Friday, May 23, 2014

Recipe for Disaster

Now that I've made some introductions, I would like to explain a little bit about the corporate structure and political landscape to which I was subject.  To begin, Becca Bacon and Delores Umbridge both work for a company called ISL.  For lack of a better way to say this, ISL serves a corporate function for many affiliate companies.  They provide "shared services" in the areas of IT, HR, etc.  Heath Big Mac and Chicken Little both work for a company called FVT.  FVT is technically an affiliate company, but not really.  See, ISL doesn't have controlling interest.  It's split right down the middle with the original ownership, who are big fans of Heath Big Mac.  Now, the President of the Board for FVT (we'll call him Dick House) is also the President and CEO of ISL.  In addition, he's the son of the founder of ISL.  Here's the thing about Dick House, him and Chicken Little are good ol' boys.  Dick House is the reason Chicken Little was brought to FVT so Dick House would never admit that it was a mistake.

Delores Umbridge was hired at ISL around the same time I was hired at FVT.  Her role was to manage the group that oversees payroll and benefit functions for all affiliate companies.  Lots more to come on this bitch, so stay tuned. 

Now, Becca Bacon, an HR Manager at ISL was my direct supervisor, although I was employed by FVT.  FVT and ISL don't see eye to eye.  So, how can this work, you ask?  Well, it can't.  You can't be employed by one company and report to someone who works for another company when those two companies want different things, there's nothing but friction, and nobody trusts anybody.  It defies logic.  And of course, the Labor Statistic got stuck right smack in the middle of all of it.  Where else would I be?  Apparently, life just wouldn't be in balance if I wasn't being confronted by an impossible situation.  Time after time after time.

And here I must sign off for today.  When I get to thinking about impossible situations, my entire life story somehow gnaws at my finger tips and there simply isn't enough hours in the day and so I must cut myself off for now and back away from the keyboard...


Friday, May 16, 2014

Sympathy for the Devil

So, before I get into the horrific details of the last eight months of my life I think it's important to make some introductions.  Here they are, in order from least-hated to most-hated:

Please allow me to introduce Becca Bacon:  I don't hate Becca Bacon, per se, but she was a pawn in this chess game and because of her role in all this nonsense an introduction is appropriate here.

Please allow me to introduce Heath Big Mac:  Heath Big Mac is the big cheese.  Heath Big Mac is ignorant (like most men) and explosive (like some men) and he has absolutely no concept whatsoever about what it means to be a respectful professional.  I'd put him on the same level as a two year old throwing a tantrum.

Please allow me to introduce Delores Umbridge:  Yes, this evil, heartless, manipulative snake in the grass is named after the Harry Potter character we all despise.  Much the same, this bitch is equally condescending, demeaning, and terrifying.  What I mean by terrifying is that, just like the character in the book, everything she owns is pink and her office looks like a 12 year old's bedroom.  Seriously.  It's fucking scary and very unprofessional.

...and finally,

Please allow me to introduce Chicken Little:  This deranged hillbilly is the plant manager and is also the epitome of ignorance; we do not speak the same language.  To me the sky is blue, but to him, it's bright orange.  I physically hate this man and I will remember him for the rest of my life, and for nothing good.  He is so abhorrent, I couldn't possibly find the appropriate words to describe him for the purposes of this introduction, but I will attempt to at least give you some perspective.  This man is an iceberg waiting for the Titanic.  He is so unbelievably inappropriate, and one of the most ineffective leaders I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.  How one gets to this point in their career when they are the most unreasonable and illogical person on the planet is beyond me.  He runs around all day like a chicken with his head cut off (remember Chicken Little?  The sky is falling, the sky is falling! - Chicken Little did not care about facts) and accomplishes nothing except making everyone crazy because he thinks everything is an emergency.  The words accountability and consistency are not in his vocabulary.  They are foreign concepts to him.  And how is it that someone at his level is exempt from doing their job?  Apparently policy enforcement and fair and consistent treatment are not his responsibility despite the fact that he oversees the entire production management team and is responsible for all of the production in the plant.  I have never seen anything like it!  He fabricates things, plays games with people, and passes the buck.  He also micromanages to a spectacular degree (every other department except the one he should be worried about) and I'm quite certain he suffers from "reportomania".  He's very much a "quadratic formula for brownies divided by the square root of gummy bears" type of person.  Yes, that level of logic.  Guys like this idiot are generally detrimental to organizations.  To learn more, click the link below.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Micromanagement



Tuesday, May 13, 2014

By the Power of 3 x 3

It's true what they say.  Bad shit really does happen in 3's.

The Labor Statistic is back at it...again.  I got fired (excuse me, constructively discharged) last Wednesday.  It was political turpitude and it was bullshit and you will definitely hear more about it.  Silver lining:  I will now have more time to devote to this blog, especially since the available job prospects are no better than they were last year, the year before that, the year before that, and the year before that.

Then, four days later, my water heater took a shit.  Shocker.  Not only does this type of thing happen to me all the time, it always happens when I don't have a job, which is often, so I guess it makes sense.

Then, the next day I got a "fuck you" email for a job I'd applied for a few months back that I was very excited about.  I had a phone interview two weeks ago and was anxiously awaiting an invitation for an onsite interview.  I though it might be my ticket out of this God-forsaken shit hole I refer to as the black hole of death.  In fact, that's the motto of this company - "The Way Out".  Liars!  So much for the theory that hand written thank-you notes make all the difference because no one takes the time to do this one simple thing to set them apart from other candidates.  I've sent a lot of fucking thank-you notes over the years and I'm left to conclude nothing except that I must have incredibly offensive hand writing.  Luckily, there is a silver lining here, too.  My manager would have been a middle-aged man.  I'm a man-hater and I've always said that no matter where I go there's a middle-aged man making my life miserable.  Turns out this would have been no exception.

Oh, and as a cherry on top, I slipped on wet dog shit later that same day.  I suspect this was the universe's way of letting me know that it is, in fact, going to kick me when I'm down.