Before I spit hate about work, I’d like to once again acknowledge any household pets that may inadvertently navigate to this site and notice that I’ve gone missing. School’s been keeping me very busy, and between it and a few other battles, I simply haven’t had much time to keep up with you. If there are any felines reading who would like to abandon their current owners to keep me company instead and provide some fuzzy solace – an excellent name for a band – please feel encouraged to do so.
So, what about work? Aside from school, I do it for two different organizations (further testament to my absence). Truthfully, I hate neither, which is a very fortunate arrangement for a 21-year-old student, but this particular Tuesday was just “one of those days” which I need to vent about.
Job X, a non-profit organization, employs me as a webmaster, print media designer, and general IT handyman, although I’m technically qualified for exactly none of those positions. That being said, I know what the fuck I’m doing, even if it’s for $9 an hour, which I don’t mind. The work is steady, and for a good cause, and my coworkers and higher-ups are, for the most part, great people to work with.
Unfortunately, Tuesday was an exception to that rule. Without going into the specifics, for anonymity’s sake, here’s the situation:
- Mr. Boss is furious after not being able to contact me for several days. Of course, it’s not unusual for Mr. Boss to send me five separate e-mail messages, where one would suffice, in any given afternoon, so he knows how to fucking reach me if he needs to. (Almost forgot: this is the same Mr. Boss that e-mailed me a PDF of a photocopy of a print-out of a website. Utter brilliance.)
- Ms. Coworker #1 informs me that, in my absence and inability to communicate telepathically, Mr. Boss has instead directed his anger towards her. Why? Because I haven’t yet submitted a document to him that was never required in the first place, that’s why! Of course.
- While preparing the ill-advised document, Ms. Coworker #2 quietly admits to me that I will also be serving as a weapon of inter-office politics – which I avoid at all costs. It seems that Ms. Coworker #1’s son drafted the original document and is acting extremely petty about it, so I’m being used to come up with a second option to oust her.
- I later learn that Mr. Boss does, in fact, remember how to communicate via e-mail with the rest of the office. I’m sure he’s just lost my address, or … something …
Jesus, how the hell did that make more sense as it was unfolding? Have I stumped the lot of you? I’ve stumped myself! In short: Job X, while more than tolerable, contains its fair share of backwards business practices and sloppy politics.
Sounds like just about every other workplace, come to think of it. Be patient, I’m still young and full of hope Nah, I’m jaded as fuck.
Onto Job Y, a market research centre where I’m on quality control two nights a week. Essentially, this entails eavesdropping on coworkers’ outbound calls and ensuring that they’re following standards, and the occasional talking-to or firing, although I have yet to actually terminate anyone. The official job description probably sounds less malicious.
I’ll keep this short: the owners of Job Y employ delinquents, mostly – not that I’m judging, this is simply an objective fact. The owners also expect miracles, i.e. targets being achieved every shift, with few to no quality issues. This is rarely the case at Job Y. As such, a common practice is to withhold breaks, and even discourage use of the washrooms, until the job is done.
Needless to say, this has not been demonstrated to motivate employees’ productivity, or, for that matter, keep them around for very long.
Additionally, I’d say that about 20-40% of Job Y employees speak English as a second language. It’s been recently made quite clear to the quality assurance staff that these employees, by virtue of that fact, are to be penalized (based on the scoring system that we use) for their accents, therefore making it difficult, if not impossible, for them to ever rise to the ranks of their fluently English coworkers.
Am I being paid to discriminate?! Really, I want to know.
Look, I can’t stress enough that overall, Jobs X and Y are far from awful. I mean, for god’s sake, I dropped out of my first college experience after one year, and I’m doing more in the way of graphic design now than a few others I know who graduated from that program after three years. Feels good, man. Besides, I could very well be working my way through school at a McDonald’s or something.
It’s just the days like Tuesday that really make me wonder about the working world, and the “adults” who inhabit it. Will I someday inherit their petulance, petty politics, policing and prejudice?
Oh, piss.
