So this morning, about 11:30 AM, just as me & Brett were getting ready to head out for our usual Sunday brunch over at Scramblers, I got a call from my workplace — oh my god, the call traffic was higher than they expected, and they needed me to get on the phones for overtime.
Thank Gods for our habit of screening all calls via the answering machine. Nope, I didn’t pick up, didn’t answer — sorry, workplace, I was out all day Sunday, because, like, remember, it’s my day OFF.
My particular home-base center is closed on Sundays, so I know that the folks that work in-house weren’t going to get that call. Only the work-at-home folks.
I laugh in your collective face, Workplace From Hell. Fuck off. You’ve never done a single thing to encourage me or anyone else to do any more than the bare minimum; you’re a singularly ungrateful company. All I get from you & your managers have been complaints and gripes and no support, no matter that my CUSTOMERS are grateful for the help & service I give — no matter that ever other company I’ve ever worked for has praised my work & abilities & service. Even the "reward" program you DO offer is laughable (wow, colored lanyards, and even THEN the folks in charge of the program are so far behind and so lackadaisical about it that you’re lucky if you obtain your lanyard months after the fact).
Me, my policy towards overtime is simple: forget it. I don’t do it, period. You need more work done, hire more workers. I don’t buy the corporate bullshit of doing more with less — that violates all rules of energy, nature, and physics. I work to live. I do not live to work. The job is stressful enough without you bastards eating into my relaxation time.
So instead, I’m at my favorite coffee shop hangout, writing and relaxing, and tonight I’ll be doing the Warcraft thing.
Across The Shadows 