I’ve had a few asshole bosses, but I think yours wins, Dr. Girlfriend! :eek:
Holy cow!!! Bosses like that are why people go postal.
I agree with everyone else, document, document, document and when you walk…go straight to the unemployment office and file a claim. I’m sending wishes that your dream job happen in a few days.
A lot of tears, and a lot of bitching to you guys and my boyfriend. It’s probably a good thing I’m not a drinker. 
Thanks again for all the good wishes, it helps to know that others don’t think I’m crazy for walking away from that place.
The funny thing is, the first few months were fine. Something happened over the summer that turned the boss into a raging monster. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.
How old is bosshole, Doc? I’m thinking that if he ever asks for divorce (it doesn’t seem like she intends to, ever), she’ll have enough ammo to leave him looking like the quintessential colander, the one from which all other colanders are nothing but projections in this physical world…
Only on the 'Dope would the Platonic ideal be invoked to discuss a divorce. 
And somehow it always comes back to colanders.
That’s just grate.
Hey, having Philosophy as compulsory in 11th grade and History of Philosophy in 12th had to be good for something (I’m from the “Engineering Track”)
More of a strain, I’d say.
I sieve what you did there.
Goddamn.
Go to restroom this morning. Wash hands. Try to leave. Guy at other sink positions himself in front of open door and slowly dries his hands. Throws paper towels in trash. Grabs more, continues drying. I look at him and clear my throat. He throws those away (2-3 at a time) and grabs A THIRD FUCKING ROUND OF PAPER TOWELS. I close door slightly so I can get between him and door and walk out.
Go into restroom this afternoon. Wash hands and go to leave. SAME ASSHOLE walks around corner and pulls the same stunt.
Seriously, you stupid parasitic jackass. 1> NO ONE ON EARTH needs three rounds of 2-3 paper towels each time to dry their hands. 2> WAKE THE FUCK UP and notice that there are other people on the planet and that you’re blocking the exit. Especially when I glare at you and clear my throat after having held the door open and being unable to go through it for better than 10 seconds. What the fuck do you think I’m doing, anyway?
I swear to god if he does it again I am going to deliberately place my hand on his chest, slowly (gently, I promise) push him backwards and say “Would you mind if I used this door?”
Agree that he’s a jerk. But is there something wrong with saying “Excuse me, can I go through that door, please?”. No, you shouldn’t have to, but it beats just standing there clearing your throat. And you know that if you touch him in the men’s room it will not go well for you in HR.
I am both sorry and happy that I don’t have any bad workplace stories for everyone’s entertainment. Work is actually pretty good right now. My boss gave me a very nice note in my Christmas card, and a basket of fruit. The Project from Heck is settling down to manageable proportions. I had a business trip to Houston last week which was only mildly depressing (but the hotel was nice). I’ve spent the last 10 years working in a business which has lost money every year, and finally it looks like we may be in the black this year (but don’t tell anyone, especially the unions, it’s confidential).
So all in all, I got nothin’.
Roddy
Not sure exactly, late 50s-early 60s I’d say. I was talking with his wife a few weeks ago and she just came right out and said that people ask her all the time why she doesn’t leave him. She says she really doesn’t know why she stays. She’s a sweet lady, not a mean bone in her body. She deserves so much better!
I got the giggles picturing the boss as a colander. Thanks for that!
I think my new coworkers have some boundary issues. First day of a new job, of course you can have my cell number in case one of us is late or… I don’t know, whatever. But now I get texts on evenings and weekends about crap that has nothing to do with work. Social stuff, like we’re picking apples do you want us to get you some? Or I think it’s gonna snow! Or…check out this funny link! Sometimes it’s office gossip, which isn’t any more interesting to me than the apples. I haven’t responded to any of them, and I have made it clear with my words that I don’t appreciate that kind of stuff at all, but it just keeps happening.
Recently I made the mistake of mentioning that I was doing a 5K, and by the next day …yep, the whole office had signed up too! Woo! We’re a team!
Today the water dude came in to change the bottle and one of them started telling him all about me. Where I moved from, what I think about the place and the people. A whole history manufactured from one offhand comment I made a month ago.
They spend a good portion of the day sharing their feelings, and often cry right there in the office, during meetings.
Help. Please help. It’s like taking a bath with a toaster. Every single day.
I got…
For a long time, I used to think that when there was a possibility I saw and which other people did not list when planning ahead, it was because they had discarded it as irrelevant or unimportant. About ten years ago I discovered that no, it was because they hadn’t thought about it. Turns out that most people are linear planners by nature and I’m a natural-born contingency planner. I’m the queen of contingencies. I’m used to being able to answer any questions about a process with the number of the page in the manual (manual I wrote) where said answer can be found.
But I’m in a project where
the processes were defined by other people,
based on incomplete information,
in some cases, on false information,
my coworkers are all of the Machus Hispanicus My Dickus Is Longer Than Yours variety - they think that “we should just kill everybody who speaks Basque” is a funny joke, and that I don’t bite my tongue around them. Maybe I should stop biting it. Maybe next time someone says that Berlusconi is da shit because he fucked a 16yo illegal immigrant prostitute and that this is the best thing that could happen to any girl, I should ask those who have daughters whether they have already chosen the 70+yos who will do their daughters in a few years or they plan on asking for the girls’ input… all this tongue-biting leads to me not being at my best.
And the clients’ people have zero interest in getting things done, zero pride in doing things right, they will not talk to their coworkers about “department interface” issues along the lines of “hey, I appear to be ‘missing’ 100 tons of raw material, mind doing the reception?” until I grab them and bring them over, and they are doing things which I had never thought possible. They’re doing things which three people with a combined experience of 20 years working on Production can not figure out how the fuck they’ve done it. And I’m supposed to get this “fixed” while trying to avoid butcherin to shreds a language I barely speak, because none of them speak English beyond “one beer please” and “the toilet?”; Spanish, not even that.
They’re doing things I had never ever considered. And they have two manuals (the one I wrote in word, the one a French consultant who was hired to be present during training and help “interpret” wrote in power point) which they do not crack open unless I say “what does the manual say about this task?” Bloody hell, I’ve had people who hadn’t touched a computer in their lives, people I sent home to their wives with Valentines they’d made in MSPaint, who were not this creative at fucking up! Once they learned that you grab the mouse with your whole hand, they did things right, and if they were told to do something they didn’t know how to do they asked for help. These guys don’t know what the fuck they’re doing but they also don’t see any problem in having 100 missing tons of raw material.
When I was doing the “knowledge transfer” to the guy from support (there’s another rant there, the woman who was supposed to take it is on medical leave, her replacement was MIA for three different appointments, I ended up explaining it all to their boss, who was ready to hang the replacement on the wall by spitting nails at him), I had to explain several times that “while the company’s policies call for every manual to be in either Spanish or English, and the official manuals are, the courses were in French and the course documentation is in French, because only one of the people involved speaks enough English to ask for ‘a beer, tap, and a diet coke’”… “well, they happen to be French, and they’re the equivalent of tradeschool graduates. How many Spanish tradeschool graduates do you know who speakee English? In these departments there’s only two college graduates, and only one of them was involved in training, the other one sent his second-in-command”… “right, French only. No, this was known before the team came.”… “It’s actually in the blueprinting documents”… “No, they do not speak English…”
I don’t have much advice, but I do have sympathy - that would drive me out of my frickin’ mind. I’m not a terribly private person, but my co-workers only get what I’m willing to give.
Can someone explain the colander thing?
I can’t remember the exact details, but in an old thread, there was a comment about how posh someone was for owning a colander. Or maybe more than one colander. Everyone then chimed in with boasts about their colander collections, and a meme was born…
Too late to edit - the colander thing started here.
Dunkelheit, I dunno about the colander meme (haven’t seen it) [ETA: Ah, I see Cinnamon Imp has posted a link, I must read up on it], but in this case, I suspect that the colander is simply a metaphor for the number of holes bosshole would have in him if the information his wife could use in a divorce case to prove he’s an abusive asshole were actual bullets she shot him up with.
ETA: In a number of the Bugs Bunny cartoons, characters that had been shot at would often take a drink of water right afterward, and the water would simply pour out the holes left behind (that had been invisible prior to the drink), looking just like the water pouring out of a colander used to drain spaghetti or the like would.