Only when I drop the Ebola filled vials outside of the sterile room.
The sterile room is probably pretty clean so I’d say it’s better to drop them outside of it.
I would give my right tit for a competent payroll clerk/staff accountant. Scratch that. A payroll clerk with a shred of professionalism. Or sense of urgency. But then, why worry about being any of those things, having any of those things when there is absolutely no fucking consequence for you? Why should you give a shit when no one is holding you accountable? Must be nice.
Oh, and management? You make it clear to the rest of us that you don’t much care about the problems she causes. When you don’t hold her accountable, you send a clear message to your management team that she is more important. That’s a real great message to send to the rest of your managers and staff who DO work hard and care. Shrug your shoulders and blow off all the times your people have told you how frustrating she is, how she is an active roadblock to getting things done, how she won’t take responsibility for her lackidasical BS. You would think YOU would care about how this makes you look to your people, but apparently she’s even more important than whether or not your own team respects you or knows they can count on you to resolve problems on their behalf. I imagine your management team has given up trying to get you to do something about her. After today, I will, too.
Also, a few pages back I vented about how my boss said he would raise the issue of how our mammograms are processed under our health plan. He said he would address it when we came up for renewal and then claimed he forgot. (The long and the short of it is that a mammogram costs $200 and not the $25 our insurance provider states in our materials.)
So, I have to bring it up to our broker (we don’t have an HR department; our broker handles the renewal process). They go and ask our provider, they say sure! We can get rid of the facilities exception and you’ll get your mammograms for twenty-five bucks! Yay!
Broker announces to us all that the mammogram policy will be changed! Hooray! Aren’t we awesome!
Except, no. Apparently, neither my boss nor our broker thought to fucking ask if this change would affect our grandfathered status under the ACA.
Guess what? IT DOES.
(I read the paper. I would have thought to ask. I would have assumed the people responsible for our health benefits would have, too, but no. I’m thinking of a word… it starts with “in” and ends in “competent”.)
So, after much fanfare (We’re providing you this benefit because we’re awesome! We’re going to ignore the fact that we knew it was a problem for years and ignored it! We aren’t going to mention that it was an employee - not management - that pressed us to ask about getting it changed! We’re awesome! Yay!), turns out that, no, we aren’t going to change our plan. Because it would mean we’d be “re-rated” (read: lose our grandfathered status) and would result in an “increase in premiums” (because we’d lost our grandathered status and under the law we can’t increase our premiums more than 2% but we’re crossing our fingers hoping none of you dumbshits knows about the new law). So, because we care about you and we’re awesome! mammograms will remain subject to a facilities exception and therefore you will pay 20% co-insurance for them.
IOW, you will pay $200 bucks for a mammogram. Or you can drive hundreds of miles to find a facility that contractually is allowed to bill it as in-office. Yay! We’re aweome!! We care about you! We’re going to spin this as a benefit to you when it’s not! Yay!!!
** goes on to post about mammograms **
:dubious:
Har!
Accidental Irony is one of my best talents. It ranks up there with giving good blow jobs.
Whoa! You do accidental irony and good blow jobs?
I think I love you. 
Yes, it is truly a spectacular combo. 
How YOU doing?
(could not resist)
Nothing personal, but blow jobs from someone named Carol the Impaler makes me nervous.
That’s the element of danger, my friend. 
Dear HR/Administrative Assistant,
Just because you are the owner/president’s wife does not give you the right to be a complete bitch. Well, maybe it does since I am told you wear the pants in the family and will be “employed” at the company until it goes broke or one of you dies.
Since I am now insured by Medicare, being old, and also am covered by my husband’s insurance, I offered to let the company drop me from the insurance rolls, asking only that you split the savings with me. I happen to know from independent research, and from asking the company accountant, exactly how much you pay per month for my insurance premium. The amount you offered is not half. It’s more like a quarter. And then you lied and said it was half. When I politely questioned you further, as in “That’s interesting, I would have thought it was more than that,” you got hostile and defensive. I would have called you out further but I didn’t want to get the accountant in trouble. Bitch. Liar. So keep paying the premium, then. This way I’m not out a dime of medical payments because of my triple coverage.
But that’s OK – it reduces the amount of notice I give you when I decide to retire. I won’t feel sorry for you and your cowardly husband when you suddenly don’t have the advantage of my considerable skills and talents. Even though I know that at least two others of our small office staff are looking for work and you will be left soon with two people other than yourselves to run the place.
I’m the best customer service person you ever had. I work hard, don’t goof off, and finish what I start. I’m the one the boss comes to when written communication has to be done right. I’m also the one who voluntarily fixed your malfunctioning web site when work was slow, rather than just websurfing. But you wouldn’t know that because you only show up about once a week for a half hour, unless you need to use the company computer system to tally up your bratty child’s Girl Scout cookie sales.
Oh, and that dye job is horrible. It makes you look old.
Why oh why do bosses seem to have a blind spot when it comes to people?
I once posted a sign outside my office: “This Company’s Most Valuable Assets Go Home Every Night”. CEO didn’t get it — thought it was a sign advocating getting out of work earlier.
I can’t tell you how happy I was to give 3 days notice (tried to give 2 weeks’, honest, but bosslady was in a bad mood and told me to clear out immediately). And they hired two people to replace me, but promptly fired them when they couldn’t do what I did. [Nelson Muntz] Ha, Ha! [/Nelson Muntz]
I vote for regular updates, including Boss Stories and your accelerated timeline to Leave The Bitchy BossWife High and Dry.
And I’d like to hear more about what you did that two people couldn’t do, and what the company did after the found out that two people weren’t enough to do all that you did.
C’mon, digs, you’ve been listening to stories for a while here. It’s your turn to share!
Ooh, you sure? My kids would warn you: I’m good at long stories (with a maximum of anecdotage… and a minimum of ‘pointage’).
Well, ok, middle-length story: I was a Creative Supervisor at an ad agency, working for a clueless b-word. She’d fired most of the Graphics Dept (we’d gone from 7 down to 2, and were still doing almost the same work). So I was putting in 60-80 hrs a week… and that’s BILLABLE TIME (anything not charged to a client, like fixing the graphics computers/printers, was above that).
Well, I had two little kids, and I realized that I’d never get to know them if I didn’t do something drastic. So when the chance to teach came up, I jumped at it.
But, the school dragged their feet so I didn’t actually get the offer until three days before classes started. Well, I’d always believed I should give two weeks’ notice, but I didn’t want the students to start without a teacher. So I waited a couple of hours til everyone agreed that Bosslady was in her usual bad mood.
Walked into her office, told her I’d gotten an offer but that I’d stay for two weeks. “Are you kidding?” she snapped, **“You’ve betrayed me. You don’t get to stay for two weeks, or even two hours! Get out now.” **
I did a mental “Yes!” fist pump, but I reminded her of the dozen or so jobs that I could wrap up. Jobs that were running late, that clients were waiting for (and I was doing the illustrations on half of them, so it’d be hard to just get someone else to finish 'em up).
(ok, I’m really sounding full of myself here… guess my self-esteem’s better than I’d thought. It sure wasn’t when I worked for Bitchiboss.)
Whoa… come to think of it, she never did say “Ok, stay until Friday and Git’r Done”… I just kept coming to work for the next three days… and whistled while I worked.
I’ll stop for now… but if anyone wants more Bitchiboss stories, or hear WHY some of those Artsy Fartsy Types were fired, well, you can see that it doesn’t take a lot of prodding.
(And to think I’ve been lurking here since the late 90s, and not telling any of my own stories… this is fun. Just wish I’d had a Tony the Shredder Rat-level story to share with you)
Hurray for Morgyn, you got digs to talk…now make him talk more 
Now that SG is gone we need digs and **Dr. G’s **stories!
My very mini rant. My intern takes notes and carefully follows all the steps. She talks to herself while she is checking off each step. She has a thing about the locks, so she checks them constantly. That’s good, the doors are heavy and the locks are sticky, but she doesn’t really need to go and check them three times after we have already locked the place down. I really don’t care, we are leaving and I spend that last 15 minutes doing other silly stuff…it just seems a waste of her time.
I did have to have a talk with her about worrying about her speed. She is compairing herself to me and thats not fair to her. I’ve been driving my desk and handtruck for over 5 years, she has only started. Of course she won’t learn everything at once. She tries so hard and really wants to get the perm part time slot that I will recommend her for.
My second job…the reason I work my first job. I went to adoptions today. One of my homeland terrorists (foster kittens) got adopted. That was a good thing and I think it was a good match.
I had to turn a college student down. Cats that get adopted to students tend to get left when they graduate and move away. It was much easier to tell the guy no because one of his first questions was “I want a cat for my room, what shampoo do you suggest and how often should I wash it?”
Not a bad start, but you now have to tell us about the two people they hired to do the job you’d been doing, and how long they lasted, and why they were fired.
Plus the stories of the 4 who got fired before you left.
And why on earth you went in for 3 days when you didn’t have to. You didn’t owe them anything, and SHE certainly didn’t deserve it.
Plus, you know, whether the firm survived or whether someone figured out that She Had To Go.
Plus how much fun you started having with your kids.
And flatlined, you still have to keep us up to date on SG. Has the retirement party happened yet? Has he gotten his truck fixed? Has he moved his camper? Have you gotten the HR lady drunk enough to spill the beans, or has anyone gotten any scuttlebutt?
It’s too bad Tony is such a mess; he’d probably do SG’s job faster and better than SG ever did (admittedly, not hard to do, but I think Tony would be doing his best to do the job, instead of doing his best to avoid the work), and he might have gotten health insurance out of it that would let him get treated. Alas. It’s not a good world for someone with a good heart and a fucked up head. Is it organic or the result of injury?
Promises to never give digs beer again. Look at him, not posting, just hanging out with his kids and having a real life. Shameful!!!
SG’s retirement party will be at the end of Feb due to retirement stuff. Nobody at HR will say a word about SG except to say that he’s on PTO because he needs to burn it up before he retires. (we can only get paid for 400 hours, making him burn the extra up is legal)
My intern, who seems a little OCD, noticed that the forks in the break room all have dots of hooker red nail polish on the backside. She was outraged when I told her why I had done it and promptly made a count of all the clutlery.
(sorry, my last homeland terrorist is helping me with this…the fluffy black one who looks like he’s Max from the land of the wild things)
So…to continue…nobody will steal anything from the break area while my intern is on duty.
Ya think?
Seriously, I’m happy for you that you’ve been able to replace SG with someone who’s likely to actually be an asset. Just go ahead and tell her that she’s got the recommendation.
How in the world did a man that ol’ and po’ manage to accumulate so much more than 20 weeks of paid time off? Or is he not going to be on PTO until the “retirement”?