Sick of this *!@#

I went home for the weekend and now I'm getting sick just in time for this weekend. Every time I go home I catch some kind of illness, the house is full of carrier monkeys. I always joke that it gives new meaning to the term home sick.

But if only it were merely the physical aspects that are making me sick. Mentally, I'm just as sick. Sick of putting up with all the crap I put up with. I'm sick of work. Yesterday, in the midst of my copying hell I asked Iris if it is possible to slit your wrist with paper. While I jested about my own demise, the torture that I feel is real. Now, I know that after reading this the company monitors are going to send me some literature on mental health, but they are missing the point. You can't create a disease and then try to cure it.

I can't handle their abuse of job description wording. Wording of a job description is like the second amendment, vaguely written to allow people to get away with murder. Although things are never written as vaguely as they are interpreted. No one is trying to form a militia. And projects assigned by management doesn't include performing an entirely different job. But vagueness in job description should be treated like the vagueness in the constitution; each right extends as far as the next right. This means a right goes until it infringes on another one of those rights. Translation: my job can go until the start of a new job. So, an obvious violation of this rule would be when a job you are performing is listed as an entirely different job description than your own. The minute that I am doing tasks that essentially mean that I am performing a separate job there is a huge abuse of power/job description occurring. You pay me for doing one job but you have me doing two. The fact that there is a false justification given to the abuse only compounds it. Maybe if they paid me more for doing more jobs, or even changed my title.

They talk about professionalism. They aren't professional, they are just cheap. Trying to have me fill a job that was formally occupied by a full time employee. You can't decide not fill a position because you feel as though you were overstaffed to begin with and then instead have me "help out" part-time in the position. The company doesn't get to save the cost of a full time person's salary and benefits and then not give me anything. The job position wasn't in question until the person who filled it left over a specific issue. It would be one thing if they were down sizing, but that was never a thought until she left. She would still be there, there would still be that job title.

I think it was all made worse by the fact that I was never asked but simply told of the new position. But such is life. Screwed with no satisfaction. My spirit raped and pillaged at their whim. My soul left battered and bruised by their beating of it. But hey, it is all worth it if a multi-billion dollar corporation can save what to them is like mere pennies. As long as the almighty dollar is tucked in safe in bed at night, then I can sleep easy. When the quest for the dollar destroys our civilization, when Rome falls again, I know my place in the proletariat revolution. For now I will take comfort with the fact that what I just said has earned me an FBI file. Big brother, where have you been? I've missed you, you never write back anymore. I write you all the time and you never answer, but it's ok because I take comfort in the fact that you are always watching me. Whether or not you are actually protecting me is another issue. However, no matter how alone I feel I know I'm not because I know you are always there. I'll write to you soon. In the meantime maybe you could send me some chicken soup for my sick body and my injured soul. I hear chicken soup does wonders for both.