Thursday, June 29, 2006

Quitting And So Forth

So if anyone cares, I quit that job I obtained a couple of weeks ago. Here is the accompanying story:

At the end of the day, I receive the job offer, which I promptly accept. At this point, I’d like to point out that everyone working in this place is quite young. Someone tells me that the average age is around 25, so I would be one of the younger people there. I welcome the possibility of a younger working crowd, at each of my previous jobs, there was always a dearth of young people. So I’m thinking, the pay will be dope, and there’ll be people my own age to hang out with after work and whatnot. Everything is looking up.

On my first day, I’m just chilling in the lobby, waiting for someone. So I make small talk with the receptionist. I ask her about the atmosphere, the hours, and all of that. (Yes, I did ask about these things during the interview, but that’s also the ideal time to lie about it.) So the receptionist tells me she’s only been there for about a month. So I ask if she knew anything from the previous person. Apparently, she was only there for three months. This catches my attention.

I meet up with Ivory*. This is the person who conducted my second round interview with this place, and so has been charged with my orientation, training, and all of that madness. She was nice enough during the interview. Not particularly charismatic, just a normal person. She did have one of the flattest voices I’ve ever heard though. (Full discretion: I have a pretty flat voice, but from what I understand, it serves to enhance my sense of humor.) When I say that, I’m excluding situations where someone is purposely taking on a flat affectation. Her conversational tone was flat like Kansas. I don’t usually find myself annoyed by affectation, but when I find myself disliking the person, I tend to start focusing on these things.

From the beginning there was one thing that annoyed the hell of out of me. Ivory would say “and so forth” and the end of every other sentence out of her mouth, even when there was nothing that could be continued. For example, I could say: When I went too the zoo, I saw many animals, including lions, tigers, bears, and so forth. Clearly, the “and so forth” means that the list can continue along the theme of the previous items, namely animals at the zoo. She, however, would say things like this: We’ll meet up for lunch in the parking lot and so forth. What does that mean?! That makes no sense! And so forth?! There is no way to possibly go forth from that statement! It made me quite angry, but I held it in.

I’m not hating things in the beginning. (When I say “beginning,” I’m referring to the first hour.) It’s pretty much what I expect: getting introduced to people, shown where the bathrooms are, taught the general layout of the place. Ivory does show me the bathroom, telling me it’s where to go when I “need to go to the bathroom and so forth.” That “and so forth” creeped me out. What does that constitute? The first things I thought of were illicit co-worker sex in the bathrooms and doing lines off of the toilet seats. Two activities which I have no desire to pursue, but I digress.

My hatred has already been planted with the voice and the constant “and so forths,” it is watered and fertilized by a pen. This is what the bitch does: she takes a pen, throws it into the air, and tries to catch it. I take this as her little habit. Many of my friends twirl pens in fanciful ways. Personally, I like to play with a Zippo. Most people have something of this nature going on: restless legs, jingling change, any sort of nervous habit really. I accept this part of people. Also, most people do things with at least a little bit of style, especially when their habits depend upon an object. Not this creature. She would clumsily hurl this pen into the air, then attempt to catch it much like a toddler would: executing a clapping type motion where the pen would haphazardly end up between her hands. Unfortunately for me, this only happened about 50% of the time. Here lies my greatest problem: Bitch cannot catch.

So now you’re thinking: Why does any of this matter? You’re no star outfielder. I don’t see the Yankees scouting your ass. Who cares if she can catch? To that, I say: It matters when I have to pick up her pen every three minutes. So, for 10 hours, I’m picking up her goddamned pen. Can you even begin to imagine the rage slowly building up inside of me? And this was not done out of some sick compulsion on my part. The first one or two times? Yes. The subsequent thousand times? No. I was ordered to pick it up. Each time I did, I felt my soul crumbling away. It’s one thing to be 26 on a power trip, it’s another to beg me to stab you in the eye with a pen. I understand that she was placed in a position where she was in charge of me and responsible for anything I might do, but that does not make me her personal whipping post. Bitch was supposed to be teaching me, instead we're playing fetch. Fuck Ivory.

At this point, I’m thinking to myself: I need to get up out of this place. Craziness abounds. But the money is making me apprehensive. It is crazy money, so crazy that it should be committed. Crazier than Whitney’s imaginary lovechild with Michael. (Can you even begin to grasp the craziness that would come from that union?) But something happens which seals the deal in my mind. Part of this job is the fact that everyone pretty much takes lunch around three. This is four hours too late in my opinion, and I consider this as part of the reason for my annoyance. Hunger messes with my head.

So we go to lunch and decide on a nearby Subway. It’s me, Ivory, and the Big Boss. So we’re watching our lunches get made. Meats are being heated, vegetable being chosen, et cetera. The guy behind the counter proceeds to spread mayonnaise on Big Boss’s bread for a chicken sub. This is an honest mistake. Most people take mayo on this subway, and while he forgot to ask if he wanted it, it’s not really a big deal. There’s more bread available for replacement. Big Boss is not having any of this. He proceeds to yell at the subway man and demands to talk to the manager, all while threatening to have him fired.

At this point, I already have my subway, which is delicious. Seeing all of this posturing and acting like a complete asshole creates a sort of out of body experience for me. I’m asking myself: Do I really work for these people? This bitch that can’t catch who doesn’t understand the meaning of “and so forth” and this asshole who can’t tolerate the slightest (easily corrected) mistake? And I realize: I DO work for these horrible people. I need to get up out of here.

An important fact to know is that the office generally doesn’t open until 9:30-10:00 AM. This works in my favor for my method of leaving. I call the office at 7:15 in the morning. No one is there and I get sent to voicemail. Excellent. I proceed to leave this message:

Hi, it’s me. Um…I don’t think this job is for me. If you need me to fill out any sort of paper work or send you anything, just let me know. But I won’t be coming in. [10 second pause] Ever. Bye. Oh it’s Cathe –

At that point I had gone over the time limit for voicemail and was cut off, but I assumed they realized it was me. In addition to this, when I was in the process of screening all my calls, Ivory called five thousand billion times trying to talk to me. I did not return any of these beckonings from hell. I don’t think it was selfish, as speaking with her could have prompted one of two possibilities: her getting stabbed in the eye with a pen, or stabbing myself in the eye with a pen. It's a very elementary form of self-control, but it is self-control nonetheless.

So I am unemployed for the time being. I don’t particularly mind it, as I do have a good amount saved up from my previous job and I have not been forced to kill either myself or Ivory. Money in the bank + no crimes committed = OK with me. I haven’t been wallowing in self-pity/inordinate amounts of laziness though, and I have had a couple of job interviews. I’m alright with how everything turned out. At least I wasn’t at that hellish job for too long, and everyone showed their true colors very quickly. It makes for a good story in the long run, which is a win by my standards.

* Names have been changed to protect the annoying.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Super Random Tuesday #6

Yes, I know. I missed last Tuesday. But I do have a good reason, which is: I was lazy. Conceivably, I had things to write about, seeing as I quit my job after about two days. That could be considered to be random, but that's subjective. So we're all just going to have to accept this explanation of last weeks lack of randomness as random enough for this Tuesday. Get over it.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Gangsta AZNs: The Sequal

Before I begin, I would like to differentiate between AZNs and Asians. AZNs are the ones who think they’re “down.” They think every thought that runs through their heads is significant, and that their life experiences (i.e. saving money to make their car wack) is unique. They are the ones that believe stupidity makes you cool, that ignorance makes you leader of the pack. These people need to die.

You can always tell when a website is run by an AZN. If, for some reason, you are unable to tell when an AZN (not an Asian) is running a website, here are some tell-tale signs:

1. The user name has an excessive number of x’s and o’s surrounding it. This is quite common among AZNs, as their utter lack of creativity causes them to all want the same user names. This leads to variations which involve the use of x’s and o’s, aka hugs and kisses. For example, the name AZNPrideRiceBoy is already taken. So the stupid child creates the user name XoXAZNPrideRiceBoyXoX. There is no need to copy each other’s names. It makes things quite confusing in the long run.

GenericScreenName: Yo, what’s up?
XoXAZNPrideRiceBoyXoX: wHo DiS iZ?!
GenericScreenName: My bad. I was trying to talk to XoXoAZNPrideRiceBoyXoXo.

Clearly, this is bad planning on the part of AZNs everywhere. We’re supposed to be smarter than this people! Stop making the rest of us look bad just so you can fail at looking cool.

2. ThE WeBsYtE iN kWeStIoN iZ cOmPlEtElY lAKiNg In PrOpEr GrAmMaR, SpElLiNg, aNd PuNcTuAtIoN. While I will imitate the horrible typing, I refuse to use poor grammar, so you’ll just have to imagine it. The same people that get straight As in school are somehow unable to write a coherent sentence online. WHY?! Are you ashamed that you know English better than white people? Do you like the stereotype of Asians being unable to speak English? I need to know that answer to this question. Honestly, it keeps me up at night, seething with hatred.

3. The site is unnecessarily complex. There are 20 separate images (badly) photoshopped together, and displayed in monochrome. Frames are placed within frames, making it impossible to comfortably scroll down, much less explore the contents of the site. Also, there’s a trail of stars/flags/cars/something retarded trailing my cursor everywhere it goes. What is the point of that? Do you want to hurt me? Is that it? Besides the visual torture, there is always some horrible song playing in the background. It could be the latest Kpop hit. It could be the latest Jay-Z joint. In any case, musical backgrounds are annoying, especially when there is no way to turn it off. The page looks like a high school web development textbook threw up.

4. There are unsolicited offers of hooking up with members of the opposite sex. This occurs mostly on sites such as Asian Avenue or Xanga, which are the ultimate locations for AZN holleration. A common line is:

yO! iF uR a BaNgiN GuRlZ u NeEd To HoLlA TcHa BoY! hIt Me Up At XoXAZNPrideRiceBoyXoX. u KnOw U wAnNa B wIt Me!!!! (hAwT gUrLz OnLi)

Who would find that attractive? I can just imagine the swooning throngs of girls (aka GuRlZ) thinking, “He’s so sexy! Even though it seems as though his Shift key is broken, I would love to get with him! I love a man who can’t spell!”

These are just a few indications that a website is run by and AZN. While there are more, these are the most prevalent. Take heed when surfing the web, as you may get sucked into their vortexes of ignorance and ineffective posturing. When at work, avoid these at all costs, as sudden blasts of music will alert your boss to your activities, which do not actually involve work of any kind. In the worst case scenario, AZN websites will get you fired. Never forget that.

And remember, flame them as often as you can. Nothing is funnier than a 16 year old AZN threatening to “pOp a CaP in uR AsS” for leaving negative comments on his site.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Gangsta AZNs

I've always been confused by the fake-me-out gangster asian, or AZN, as they like to be called. The most pressing question, in my eyes, is where did the pressure come from to act like this? In my experience, asians pretty much grow up with other asians. Yeah, you have the occasional non-asian thrown in the mix. And then the random half and half kids. But really, there's no real pressure to act like a thug. As far as I can see it, this pressure is self-imposed. I can just imagine it:

There's an Asian kid sitting at home at his desk, which is strewn with books on advanced calculus and theoretical physics. He's wearing a too-small polo shirt, high waters, and has a pocket protector while staring at his latest test. "DAMMIT! I got another A on an exam! My street cred is going down the toilet! I gotta do something." An hour later, he's got an oversized throwback jersey on with a matching cap, giant jeans, and some fake blinged necklace. "Yo, homeslice! What's good?!"

What the fuck? And you know that this kid went around trying to intimidate people (i.e. other stupid Asian boys), which caused them to act in the same manner. It's the pyramid scheme from hell. I'm not talking about any sort of urban style. I'm completely down the the urban-ism. It's the downright fake ghetto-ness of these people. Don't be ashamed of your parents' success. Take advantage of that; that's what they're there for.

Stop acting like something you aren't. You have a 4 story house, and your parents are doctors. You do not have street cred to begin with. You have no viable means of creating street cred or anything of that nature. Cut that shit out. (Before I cut you.)

Sidenote: I rate that kid as an asshole.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Super Random Tuesday #5

The Bane of Our Nation

Cowlicks are a problem. All over the country, cows are licking our children! This must be stopped. Who knows what sort of creatures live in their mouths, which are then transfered to our youth. This is unacceptable. Please, write to your congressmen, your govorners, anyone who can change this disturbing trend. The future of our children depends on it.

Really though, just get a better haircut. Handle that.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Let's not and say we did.

No Touching Allowed

"Let's touch base."

I hate this phrase. Why do you want to touch base with me? This is not appropriate work conversation. We just work together, we're not friends, why would I let you touch my base? It's really much too forward. I have friends that I've known for years, and they've never even seen my base, much less touched it. All these people at work keep asking to touch it. It's gross. Can't you at least try to get to know me a little bit first? Like, "Hey, how are ya? Wanna get some lunch? Wanna touch base later?" Of course, I'd say no, but at least there's an effort made.

Please stop asking to touch my base, it freaks me out.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Super Random Tuesday #4

While going through mailing lists/member lists at work the other day, I came across the name "Carmen SanDiego." Aside from the fact that this is an unfortunate name, this was one of my favorite shows as a kid, not the random cartoons, but the gameshow, Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?. It was this that instilled in me a love for yelling at stupid gameshow contestants:


At this point, I would start screaming incoherently, sometimes I was even able to reach a point where only dogs could hear me. It's a wonder I never burst a blood vessel. It was during this time that I first found the need to call someone a cocksucker. In retrospect, that's quite inappropriate, as all the contestants were children and should not be anywhere near a cock, but that's a totally different topic.

I think this is a good time to point out that I had the highest scores in my eighth grade geography classes in which the tests consisted of blank maps and we had to name each country. I would have owned those stupid children that couldn't find Ghana to save their lives. After I owned them they would have been sold, as their stupidity would undoubtedly annoy the crap out of me sooner or later (most likely sooner). I seem to have stumbled on to a very sensitive subject, what with the buying and selling of children, so let's just end this here on a good note:

Do it Rockapella!

On the Way Out

The quantity of my entries may take a downward turn as I have obtained a new job. Yes, the days of making sure the copier/printer is warm are over. That is, unless they lied to me at the new job, but we'll find out about that soon enough. Thursday will be my last day here in this particular circle of hell. I'm exaggerating of course, it's not so much a circle as a sector of a circle. There are plenty of nice people that I get along with. The problem is that one director who I keep bitching about and the actual work involved. I've never been at such a loss for mental stimulation (resulting in this blog). I really think that my mother's womb was more stimulating.

The new job is with an advertising/promotional company in Virginia. Basically, it's a managerial fast-track type position where they expect me to be a manager within 6-8 months. Since I feel as though I've essentially wasted my time while at my current job, I will be focused on three things during this time: working, eating, and sleeping. I refuse to take more than 6 months to reach manager. Since it's all merit based, that's entirely possible.

Perhaps you're asking yourself (especially if you know me): Why the need to speed through the program? Can't you just chillax at your new job? The answer is no. The first 2-3 months will be hell, but will be made worth it once I reach Assistant Manager followed by Manager. Is it really worth it? YES. When they first described the program, I too was apprehensive - and then they told me the salary for these positions. Those numbers alone are worth obscene amounts of work for a few months. Aside from numbers, I just had good timing for looking for a new job as it's sort of a limited time offer. Because the company is growing at a seemingly obscene rate, they need managers ready to go in various cities where they're opening new offices. How else can you reach that position/salary within a company that quickly?

So that's the new job situation. While it is an excellent escape from my little piece of hell, it's also an escape from my larger chunk of hell, also known as my parent's house. I'm looking at moving out around August. So we'll see what happens.