{"id":1268,"date":"2006-06-19T23:03:11","date_gmt":"2006-06-20T06:03:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dee-rob.com\/wordpress\/index.php\/2006\/06\/1268\/"},"modified":"2021-03-19T00:36:20","modified_gmt":"2021-03-19T00:36:20","slug":"1268","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dee-rob.com\/wp\/1268\/","title":{"rendered":"Should have a title"},"content":{"rendered":"

In honor of it being just about the two-year anniversary of the life that prompted the sketch that prompted the post below called “Soundtrack, and inspired by “Freemblap” and his comment about kowtowing to the man, here’s a link to the post that started it all.<\/a><\/p>\n

For the record, and keeping the whole debate alive and honest and shit, here’s a couple of things to note. I wrote that little bit of creative bullshit in March ’04. I got spoken to late June ’04 (a date I will remember always here in the land of the free and brave, ‘cuz my flag-waving July 4th weekend was interrupted by the second psych eval). Yeah, baby, three months later, you know, like long enough for shit to change, you got your clear and present danger heating up.<\/p>\n

Point two in the whole debate is told in the sketch. I was interviewed alone by little miss zero tolerance and allowed to go back to my office to get my stuff. Yeah, um, just yeah.<\/p>\n

It’s a cake eating too kind of dilemma. I was a freak, or I was not a freak. You just don’t fucking let a violent loon go get her stuff with an admonition “Ah, don’t talk to anyone, OK?”<\/p>\n

Oh, and after working there through seven years, um, I would’ve thought someone would know me. As my lawyer put it, in all his years of pulling employee records for various and sundry disagreements and disputes, my file was shockingly stellar and spotless. The signs weren’t there.<\/p>\n

Dunno, maybe I’m dwelling today, because at the new place, the place that came at the end of the snowball spinning ride that started two years ago, there was a summer shindig kind of thing going on. Food. Because, fucking yeah, everything about this job plays out in food. And, some wine and beer. Shit, I hadn’t had an ice cold beer in many months.<\/p>\n

Anyway, it reminded me of the fabled beer hours from circa 1989, when I first started working in the non-profit world. I was in my 20s, as were a huge assload of others at the job, and there just wasn’t anything wrong in drinking the free beer and talking to folks. I did my job well enough to go from temp to perm and ultimately like triple or quadruple my salary in 5 years’ time, and until the director starting banging my co-workers, all was groovy. I just didn’t spend a lot of time looking over my shoulder or worrying if I was going to lose my job. (Well, again, until the director’s indiscriminate banging began.)<\/p>\n

I never felt that relaxed in my last job and may never again. It’s fucking hard after being fucked with for so long, and it pisses me off.<\/p>\n

For about a minute, I was all chill in the new job, thinking, “it’s going to be alright,” and cracked a second beer.<\/p>\n