July 21, 2004
Mise-à-jour
OK, I've been meaning to write about this all week...or all month at least, but I've been so busy that I can't find the time to sit and write for any extended period. It really sucks, but it's submission work, and I love the constant busy-ness no matter how much I complain. So keep that in mind.
There's this new director in my department who is as fake as you can get. We'll call her MAC, which I know is an insult to the fabulous cosmetic company and to anyone who wears (or sells) the stuff, and I apologize, but it's fitting. She's got a face that won't die or smear or smudge or crack. It's painted on. And her hair is shellacked into place. The first time I met her she reminded me instantly of matabang kalabaw, who you may remember as being a manager from hell. MK was fake and see-through, she lied about her achievements and her abilities, she stole the credit for good work from her employees and dumped the blame for not-so-good work on her employees. She was a total hosebag. We hate her. MAC is just like that. Always changing her story to match her needs, she can't admit that she's wrong, she can't abide an underling knowing more than she does and exhibiting that knowledge. And what's worse is that, just like matabang kalabaw, she is that sickeningly sweet, fake nice. It's just gross.
Anyway, so I was sitting in the new hire orientation earlier this week listening to some of the senior management talk about their respective departments. There was one person in that group, with whom I've already had a couple of run-ins, who was just as full of bullshit as MAC is. This guy is the associate director of IT, and it's so obvious that he depends on his people knowing more than he does. Now, my former boss used to say that it's a testament to good management when the subordinates know more than the "ordinates"—and I have a hard time understanding that, but whatever—but there comes a time when the "ordinates" really ought to know of which they speak. Orientations like this one, where you're explaining what your department does, really are these times.
And I'm sitting there thinking, "How do I take these fools seriously? Or should I? OK, I shouldn't. So, how do I suffer them gladly or otherwise? Because I can't suffer fools, it's just messed up. I hate suffering fools. And I hate that plaid. What was he thinking? Did his wife dress him? Have you seen his wife? How do I learn to not get upset at having to just smile and nod?"
I know, these are relatively simple questions. You just have to do it. And I'm trying, but I still feel like a little part of me dies everytime I have to smile and nod.
I've had a slight change of plans in my travel going on next week. I was talking with soon-to-be-former boss...oh, right, he's leaving, too. I'm all, WTF, bitch? Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have taken this god forsaken job if you had told me that you were leaving! How rude. He says to come work for the company, not for the person. Bullshit! I knew he was a good boss, I knew he was supportive and educated. I knew that working for him would be cool, and I knew that I could help him with his goals. I didn't give a rat's ass about the company. I mean, I do now, but then it was just another building in Silicon Valley. So, as it happens, the department will be split up between two people, and my little group of one will be under none other than MAC herself. Bitch. I will be livid, screaming from the hills, if that wanker (can women be wankers, too?) has anything to say about my review. That makes me wither even more. No wonder I don't have sex anymore.
So, I'm talking to Muscle Man Boss about the trip, and he asks me where I'm staying. "You're what? Out where? In the sticks? You can't do that! You need to be closer to real people! You're going to be there for a week. You need access to good food...and Dupont Circle!" So he briefly explains what he does on his numerous trips to DC per year, Eagle and all, and suggests that I bite the "bullet" and just stay in the Hyatt in Bethesda. So there, you go, if you need to reach me. I kinda liked the idea of the high-speed Internet access of the Marriott in Gaithersburg, but being on the red line, a mere stone's throw from the nation's capital, seemed to be a little more tolerable. No offense to anyone who lives in Rockville/Gaithersburg, of course. I've never been there, so I can't (and won't) judge it properly until I see it for myself. That's Sunday. I hope I can smile and nod until then.
