August 7, 2003
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So I wonder, how many other people have had meetings at work where your boss basically told you and everyone else in the room that you’re worthless, can’t do anything right, and you’re lucky you still have jobs…
I hate my boss and my job. I’m not sure which I actually hate more. It’s a sure thing that if my boss left, I’d probably like my job a lot more, but by saying a lot more, what I really mean is, I wouldn’t feel like going home every night and summoning slobbering hoards from the Nether-reaches to invade the earth so I don’t have to go back to work the next day.
So we had this meeting the other day. I was all prepared for the usual boring reiteration of all the previous meetings I’d had to get up early and attend. But the entire hour was filled with her nonsense about how the economy is trashed right now (even though the newsletter the bank president puts out said were up another 2 mill for the quarter) and we’re lucky we don’t have a cap on raises. So we won’t be getting 5 & 6% raises anymore. It’ll be 4% or less from here on out. WTF! I just got a raise two months ago and it was 3%! What’s this 5-6% crap? They sure weren’t talking about MY raise. I don’t think I’ve ever had more than 30 or so cents added to my wage, and this time it was 23!
And basically the meeting went on like that. She gave numerous examples of other businesses where they’ve had to freeze wages or took away benefits or actually decreased wages, and then tried to play it like we should be grateful to sit in this room and be BSed like we’re senators waiting to vote on a new bill.
Then she started whining about footwear (like anyone sees our feet) and appropriate clothing. She claimed people were complaining about our end of the month Friday dress-down day (never heard anyone say a word), and that some of us were wearing sneakers or boots, or (gasp!) flip-flops. Well, I can see the point with the flip-flops; they are loud and flip-floppy, but please, some of us have foot problems. So she says with a Dr’s excuse we can wear whatever kind of shoe the Doc says. Oh? So now I’m supposed to spend $50 for a flimsy piece of paper when I could just tell them I have weak ankles and need to wear some kind of bracing shoe or boot to prevent twisting said ankles? Please! I’ll just wait till I twist my ankle at work and then it’s worker’s comp BaBY! Stupid frikkin’ bank!
And then we had donuts. Whoo! (rolls eyes)
Look when the grocery store cashier is making more than the bank teller (as per the want-ads I read EVERY Sunday), there is something decidedly wrong with the picture. I’m not saying I’m at all dishonest, but don’t you think I should be paid to STAY honest or at least accurate? Do you have any idea how much money passes through my hands every day? On a slow day, try about $10,000; on a Friday, I’ve given out as much $50,000. I’m not even counting money coming in.
Oh, and get this, at the end of the meeting, she reminds us about this free service provided by the bank as part of our benefits. Can you guess what it might be?…
A toll-free line for psychiatric help, not just for you, but the whole family! Wheeeee! I guess they figure once they’ve driven you down the road to madness you’ll take your family there for all your vacations.
