Alicia posted a comment the other day about how corporate America has no desire to recognize its worker bees as individuals, as people with different needs even in identical situations. I was talking about divvying up break time in that case. Now I have another point to make.
My job is boring. The hardest part about it is not falling asleep or continually questioning the worth of even DOING this job. It's largely meaningless and only caters to the elite fuckwads who buy expensive jewelry to begin with--and break it. So what do I do to fight the narcolepsy? I read funny shit on the Internet. Or at least I DID.
I was into a ritual of scouring SomethingAwful.com and many blogs throughout the day, getting my regular dose of stay-awake brain stimulant in necessary intervals. I did it when I wasn't using the computer screen for anything else, and I was stuffing paperwork into baggies, which makes up about 50% of my day. I can read and stuff at the same time. Just ask my ex.
This was all fine and good until I moved over to Receiving from my cushy gig in Repairs. I didn't choose the move; it was asked of me, and I'm friends with some people in both departments, so it didn't seem any better in one place or the other. Apparently the head guy for Receiving is all about not using the Internet at work, even for doing my timesheet, which is something I HAVE to do every Friday before I leave. I don't have a choice, but I can still get in trouble for it. Right.
So this guy spies me reading a little something on the web while stuffing, and reports it to my immediate supe, who quells my happiness post-haste. He didn't like doing it, and he totally understands my plight to cut a swath through the boredom and monotony, but it's out of his hands, and if I get caught again, it's his ass. I like Tom, so I'm not going to get him in trouble. As a result, though, my productivity has plummeted. Good thinking, corporate ass-clown! Now you pay me the same amount to do LESS! It's also a good feeling to have to take a big dump at work since
a) the bathrooms where I work are really nice, and
b) I'm getting paid to stay in there as long as I want.
Who's gonna argue with a man who is shitting violently? When faced with the alternative of me shitting right in my chair (don't try me; I'll do it), I think one choice is clearly more desirable. And less messy.