Sometimes work is just so stultifyingly work, I can’t stand it.

Part of this week has been spent on a fun carousel of deflection. One of the folks here essentially hates me. That’s probably an irrational overstatement, but it bears inherent truth. So, you make somebody cry during some important meeting once and suddenly you’re a wildcard. Yeah, whatever, she was just looking for an excuse to cry.

Seriously, though, this one chick of academia goes to absurd lengths to absolve another administrator, and invariably the excess plate of blame ends up sliding down my shirt and into my lap. One of these days instead of a reasoned and well thought out email response, I’m just going to write:

OK, let me just get this straight. I was over here minding my own business, while you forgot to tell your employee something important about her salary, like your inability to pay it. Now, since I was not prescient enough to create a policy and stack of forms in the event that you would decide to do Pontius Pilate proud and shirk all responsibility, I’m the douchebag. Oh, OK, now that we have that straight here’s what I’m going to do for you to fix it…

I guess it’s not so much that I have to go around fixing broken shit, because frankly that’s part of the gig. It’s the fun, fun, fun to be had when first I have to suffer through another session of “MY GOD, HOW COULD SUCH A THING HAPPEN?” while the crowd is chanting “Crucify her! Crucify her!”

Oh, sorry, got a little messianic complex thing going on right there. The actual point is more Ramonesian:

From “Halfway to Sanity”

I’m Not Jesus
Don’t wear a crown of thorns
Got no holes in my head
Don’t accuse me of that crime
Don’t hang me up to dry

It’s not me
It’s not me
It’s not me

Don’t wanna die for your sins
Got no special powers
Sacrifice and sacrilege
Hey man, I wanna live

I’m not Jesus I can’t heal you

Taste my blood
It doesn’t taste like wine
Can’t you see
This cross isn’t mine
Judas must die
For what he has done
Satan’s watching
With his gun

It’s not me
It’s not me
It’s not me

Father, Son and Holy Ghost
Say your prayers-it’s your only hope
Twelve apostles can’t help you now
I’ll be back to stake my ground

Don’t wear a crown of thorns
Got no holes in my head
Don’t accuse me of that crime
Don’t hang me up to dry