My work day
My work day begins about three or four hours earlier than the average worker. At 6am I am at work, this is the unfortunate drawback to living on the west coast and working in the financial industry. Basically, I work in a time zone three zones away from the one I live in. I'm in a New York Time zone state of mind.
However, once I arrive at work my day consists of the same mundane tasks of every other working stiff my age. I do a few meaningless busy body tasks before settling in to the bulk of my work. Answering the phone and surfing the web. I'm being paid to be a teenager.
Another problem with the financial industry is that everyone is highly suspect, so the company intensely monitors all forms of communication and all electronic mediums. In other words, everyone please wave "hello" to the corporate monitors viewing this transaction. "Whatup G?" By G I mean government or Big Brother.
However, I have created a strategy to keep the monitors at bay. Since the handbook refers to "excessive" use of the internet as being unacceptable, I've decided to approach it from a different angle. While I spend the first four hours of the day surfing the Gap website, I wait until just before the moment the monitors are going to email me or my HR and then I make sure to check my bank account and my credit card. This, I believe, appeases them once they remember how little they are paying me. Then I proceed to Bananarepublic.com.
I know that it is "necessary" to screen employ transactions in such a corrupt industry, but it is never the big man who falls. It seems to be the little punk like me that takes the whipping. The frontline always gets shot first.
I'm so tired my body actually hurts. An older broker just gave me a cookie. It's really cute, he makes cookie every week and passes them out to the office. This week they were chocolate chip, one time he made these amazing chocolate marshmallow brownies. Yum.
The pregnant broker gave birth to a baby boy last night. It is very exciting but mostly for my own selfish reasons. I always got so nervous when she came down the stairs in front of my desk. She would almost skip when she proceed down and I've seen way too many soap operas to know that stairs and pregnant women are never a good combination. I wanted to tell her to take the elevator but I've seen way too many primetime shows to know that elevators always tend to induce labor. It got to the point where I just want to find someone who would take things up to her so she could avoid the six floor all together. But alas with the entrance of the little guy into the world, my fears have been subsided. And I don't have to worry about being forced to deliver the baby. I was certain that I would be assigned by management to attend to that task because that is the kind of project they like to justify giving me. I live in the gray area of my job description, but that is a whole other rant.
Well, back to my quasi-work. Time to mind the Gap.
However, once I arrive at work my day consists of the same mundane tasks of every other working stiff my age. I do a few meaningless busy body tasks before settling in to the bulk of my work. Answering the phone and surfing the web. I'm being paid to be a teenager.
Another problem with the financial industry is that everyone is highly suspect, so the company intensely monitors all forms of communication and all electronic mediums. In other words, everyone please wave "hello" to the corporate monitors viewing this transaction. "Whatup G?" By G I mean government or Big Brother.
However, I have created a strategy to keep the monitors at bay. Since the handbook refers to "excessive" use of the internet as being unacceptable, I've decided to approach it from a different angle. While I spend the first four hours of the day surfing the Gap website, I wait until just before the moment the monitors are going to email me or my HR and then I make sure to check my bank account and my credit card. This, I believe, appeases them once they remember how little they are paying me. Then I proceed to Bananarepublic.com.
I know that it is "necessary" to screen employ transactions in such a corrupt industry, but it is never the big man who falls. It seems to be the little punk like me that takes the whipping. The frontline always gets shot first.
I'm so tired my body actually hurts. An older broker just gave me a cookie. It's really cute, he makes cookie every week and passes them out to the office. This week they were chocolate chip, one time he made these amazing chocolate marshmallow brownies. Yum.
The pregnant broker gave birth to a baby boy last night. It is very exciting but mostly for my own selfish reasons. I always got so nervous when she came down the stairs in front of my desk. She would almost skip when she proceed down and I've seen way too many soap operas to know that stairs and pregnant women are never a good combination. I wanted to tell her to take the elevator but I've seen way too many primetime shows to know that elevators always tend to induce labor. It got to the point where I just want to find someone who would take things up to her so she could avoid the six floor all together. But alas with the entrance of the little guy into the world, my fears have been subsided. And I don't have to worry about being forced to deliver the baby. I was certain that I would be assigned by management to attend to that task because that is the kind of project they like to justify giving me. I live in the gray area of my job description, but that is a whole other rant.
Well, back to my quasi-work. Time to mind the Gap.
posted by Whit at 6:42 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home