As of today, I’m no longer stressed out by my workplace. I gave my two-week notice, citing vague “health issues,” because it wouldn’t be very politic to say “I’m gonna wind up in the mental hospital if I have to deal with that stupid harpy who signs my paycheck much longer.” Feels like a 20 ton weight has been lifted from my shoulders, because I officially don’t care what happens at work. What are they going to do, fire me?
Oh yeah… and couple that with, “Oops… tee hee… I had this on my desk last week… tee hee… did you need to post this Friday?”
::must control fist of death::
OTOH, if you don’t control fist of death, you won’t have this problem next month.
Just sayin’…
Huge congratulations on your pending freedom! Any chance of getting out of there before the two weeks are up? Or getting treated more fairly now that you’ve given notice?
My boss got so angry that I’d given notice (he saw it as a betrayal of some sort, even though I’d given almost a month’s notice) that he screamed at me to “get the hell out by the end of the week!” His meltdown was on a Wednesday, so I only had to put up with his screaming fits for two and a half more days.
And, as I don’t do well with irrational, I was glad to go. So I know how you feel.
I’m half hoping that I will be told to clear out sooner rather than later, but there’s no one on staff to take over my hours and (ill-defined) duties. Really, I waited to submit my notice until the front desk manager indicated that she would come back from maternity leave in two weeks. That way, things won’t be FUBAR when she walks back in the door… or at least no more than usual. Of course, it might not help that, when I told our veteran head of housekeeping that I’d put in my resignation, she started talking retirement. (Not saying that I’m so integral to this hotel that she’d leave out of any kind of loyalty to me. After so many years with the company, Ms. G is just tired of the revolving door of crazy/incompetent.)
Anyway, the front desk manager is planning to stop in tomorrow to chat. I will feel bad about it on a personal level, but I won’t be persuaded to stay.)
Those traits tend to go together, IME.
I almost took out the space between “to” and “go”… that was a lot of ts!
Having previously encountered “month-end closing” only in an American company (and its subsidiaries), it took me a long time to get used to the way the Spanish version can take as much as 20 days from the next month - and doesn’t take more because the 20th is the last day you can file certain tax docs without getting a fine.
When I asked Financebro what would he consider a normal length of time for month-end-closing (1-2 weeks), he asked why and I explained. After the explanation, he said “I know it’s true because it’s you telling me - wow!”
Mind you, that American company also didn’t have all those silly processes where you record partial values for something (such as raw material consumption daily), then annul the records (yes, 28-31 of them!) and do one entry for the whole month. Not only do I see Spanish processes and think “there has to be a simpler way” - I’ve actually seen that simpler way and it worked!
Maybe your coworkers learned how to do their jobs in Spain, where months don’t end at the end of the month…
Best wishes from someone who’s got that T-shirt too.
Got in this morning, and sat down to this:
Grandboss’s BOSS - a VP - sent an email to my suitemate - who is supposed to verbally fill me in, per his email - that at such-and-such time, he’s supposed to get here. And this:
“When I get there today, I would like all of us that wear glasses to put a big chunk of tape (or maybe band aides) on our glasses (nerd like) and walk into {grandboss’s} office. Can you arrange that (have tape ready), about 11:45am.”
Ummm… WHAT? First of all, suitemate is perturbed because 11:45 am is around when she’s habitually already gone for lunch. Me? I’m perturbed because 1) the early 90s called; they want their joke back, and 2) I may need to be gone (I do have a personal life) at that time, and 3) I don’t particularly appreciate being summoned.
So, what say ye, Dopers? Do I have no sense of humor? Go along with it? Disappear at 11:35?
ETA: while typing out that rant, I found out there was a HUGE CODE ROLLOUT LAST NIGHT. Which is fine, but hey - since it affects a ginormous amount of my team’s work tasks, could you, dunno, LET US KNOW YOU WERE PLANNING THIS?!?eleventy?!?!
Missed the edit window, but here’s what gets my goat: in our entire suite, you know who wears glasses? Me … and my suitemate. (NiceSweetCoworker.) Nobody else.
And what’s supposed to be funny about that? Me no comprende, señor…
Most of the glasses I’ve owned were thin metail frames, putting any kind of tape on the bridge if it was broken would be useless, doing it unbroken would mean bad eyesight and a bunch of tape hurting my nose 
I have a great sense of humour, and joke around at work a lot, and I probably would take their documents with a stony face and go do what I had to do with them. I don’t find incompetence very amusing. Or I might make a “joke” about it - “Yeah, tee hee - it was month end on Friday, and I needed to enter it like I do every month, tee hee. Don’t do it again next month, or I’ll have to kill you. Tee hee.”
I don’t get what’s funny about the glasses, either. I wear glasses, and I wouldn’t be fucking around with them just to make a non-funny joke.
Had been planning to switch from my black plastic frames to my wire frames, just for shits’n’giggles. Now I really wish I had. I’ll either just not be here, or will work blind and pretend I’m wearing my brand spankin’ new contacts. 
I forwarded it to my manager, after sitting and pondering if that was a good idea or not. It might not have been - stirring the pot instead of just letting it go, which is what I try very hard to do. But I am so tired of the juvenile b.s. around here. Fuck it. See where this takes me.
If anyone is wondering why grandboss is still employed, it’s because clowns like these are her bosses. Gah.
We’re still discovering the odd changes that came with the rollout. Unplanned changes. Broken functionality. Will probably keep finding them all week, like some shit-ball version of hunting for Easter eggs.
Diarrhea-filled Easter eggs.
So, Cadbury’s?
Eight more days…
Part of of me hates leaving, too, because my efforts are starting to pay off. I’ve been working diligently on sales, and our weekday occupancy has risen steadily, week by week and also compared to last year. We’re now averaging about 80% Sunday through Thursday, versus 45-50% in 2010 and 2009. And we’re sold out for the next two weeks solid. (Guess who’s gonna take all of her contact names when she leaves?)
Also, guess whose mugshot was on the front page of today’s paper? That’s right! Our former maintenance dude is wanted for his role in an armed robbery!
Holy shit, Lacunae Matata! :eek:
Don’t you ruin the only thing this heathen barbarian likes about Easter. shakes fist
It’s gotten so bad - IT broke so much shit - that my manager SWORE, y’all. She said “hell!” You don’t understand - this woman does. not. lose. her. cool. (She’s grandboss’s opposite in every conceivable way.) I was so shocked that when I got off the phone, the first thing I did was text Mr. Horseshoe (who knows her well) with “{Manager} SWORE!!” Then I told my suitemate what she’d said and she did exactly this: :eek:
She didn’t swear AT me, mind you - it was directed at IT. Oh, and then she said “effing.” Like, literally: “this effing problem…” 
Damn.
So how did the repay the loans thing go?
Oddly enough, without a hitch. He wound up coming in the evening before payday, so I told him I’d do him a favor: I’d pay cash, and collect his loan repayments to distribute with the regular paychecks. I guessed that he was pretty desperate to buy “milk and diapers for the baby” (AKA crack) that he’d accept immediate cash.
Hey assholes who run this company,
AM I WORKING TOMORROW OR NOT?
It’s nearly 7:30 and you fucking rat bastards have still not sent out a confirmation email. This is ridiculous. I do not know if I am working tomorrow. There’s temp and then there’s just treating people like dirt. Congratulations. You’ve managed the later. Pricks.
Try working as a hotel housekeeper. I frequently get less than an hour’s notice about whether or not I need to come to work on a given day.
I’m sure I’ve ranted about this here before, but it bears repeating:
SOLD OUT MEANS SOLD OUT. EVEN FOR YOU.
The following things will not make us less sold out:
- Staring at me.
- Complete silence on the phone.
- Asking “Does that mean I can’t get my reservation?” or any variation on that question.
- Pouty faces.
- Long-suffering sighs.
Life sucks. Accept the fact that everyone was faster than you in reserving for x date and move on.