Doesn’t he understand that diversity workshops are supposed to teach you to accept each others differences and not make assumptions based on things like who has children?
I think he failed the workshop.
Was there a point to his exercise? I’m not seeing it.
I agree with Moonlitherial that he failed the workshop, but I also need to point out that his opinion may be backed up by years of experience with parents that are not near as responsible as you are. In the almost 40 years that I worked, it was always common for (usually) the women to get in late or leave early due to some kid issue, and not have to make it up, and for those without children at home to have to pick up the slack.
Perhaps things have changed since 2007, but from the sound of that guy, maybe not.
After we had been separated into groups the person running the workshop asked for strengths that the parents bring to the table. Ways to show that parents aren’t a liability, but can be an asset. Things like perspective, and ability to multitask, stuff like that was brought up. My boss had mentioned the balance thing and honestly I think it started from a good place. That she thought life outside of work was a good thing. But then she started talking about how we have more of a reason to go home than the childless.
New co-worker, I know you’re still getting accustomed to the job, but I would have a lot easier time getting accustomed to you if you stopped bathing in that ass-smelling cologne before you came to work. My sinuses are having a hard enough time as it is with the tree pollen without having to deal with your toxic aura.
One) I don’t understand why, in this day and age, anyone feels the need to FAX through a complaint form. We need to stop indulging these fuckers and tell them to send it or email it like the rest of the world.
Two) If we are going to let them send faxes, LET ME SKIN THE FUCKERS WHO CAN’T USE A FAX. I have go go through the system and print off a bunch of .TIFF files, which are huge and unweildy and take forever to open ANYWAY, only to find some dick has sent the same fax through three times, or another one has sent it through faxed upside down, or another one has somehow managed to fax their complaint form through as a solid box of black. So tempted to send letters back to these fuckers saying “YUO=FAIL AT FAXING” Possibly with a cat turd in the envelope.
Could that be their intention? “Well, they didn’t provide me with the service I so clearly deserve, so I’m going to waste their fax ink.”
Of course, that elevates them from technologically challenged to jagweeds who deserve the cat turd even more.
I’m pretty confident it’s the former rather than the latter. These are people who can’t spell their own names consistently.
“So…if the part isn’t here, does that mean we can’t test it yet?”
:smack:
My coworker just told me he wants to get our intern to go back on a project I did and ‘redo the work properly’.
I’ll own to my code not being the most elegant - he wants to move to a certain framework (that I didn’t even know existed at the time) - but it is by no means horrible. It’s still divs and floats and jQuery, not table soup from the 90s. That project took a year to do, most of the work being mine. The client is very happy with it and my boss is happy with it.
There is absolutely no fucking reason to redo this project except to be picky.
I’m not even going to get into the intern thing. I’m not a vain person, but seriously, how can anyone not take that as a jab?
“I’ll re-do YOUR work properly” (while smacking your fist into your other palm). Yeah, there’s a chance that he’s just clueless about how that came across, but I wouldn’t be thrilled to hear it, either.
Today I had an interview in a town which is quite cold by Spanish standards; it isn’t unusual for them to spend Christmas blocked by snow. One of my college classmates was from a tiny village in the area (you could address letters to her as “Friendname, Village, Province” and she’d receive them, the place is that tiny) which is 5km away from the big road, and every year she’d miss a week of classes after Christmas because those 5km hadn’t been cleared of snow.
I drove down yesterday, since the interview was earlish and it’s a 3h drive. There was dew this morning, which hadn’t evaporated 3h after sunrise (in most of Spain right now “dew” is a short word you can find in crossword puzzles). I was wearing a long-sleeved blouse and a thick, high-double-neck sailor’s-knots sweater.
Which I took off as soon as I got into the building where the interview was to take place. Those people sure do believe in heating things! I thought “man, monstro might like it here, it’s hot even by my standards!”
Warning: This rant will sound like a total exaggeration. I really, truly wish that I were using hyperbole, but this co-worker is completely, totally, supremely unsuited for her job. Or any job I can imagine.
Dear Co-worker:
Why the fuck do you have this job? And why the fuck did you come back after leaving for several months? (And, parenthetically, why the fuck did the owner hire you back? He’s known you for years. All I can figure is that you have some serious dirt on him…)
How are you unsuited to this job? Let me count the ways:
You are unpleasant to the point of rudeness - short, snippy, unhelpful. You are so paranoid that you will not keep the hotel lobby unlocked past about 5 in the afternoon. You don’t know how to operate the (world’s easiest) property management system, going so far as to (in all seriousness) blame me, in front of the affected guest when you fucked up a simple adjustment to a credit card billing. You can’t even be bothered to offer helpful information to the guests - who are, you know, financing our paychecks. A question as simple as “Where’s the nearest restaurant that’s still open?” or “How do I get to the beach from here?” is met with “I don’t know. I’m not from around here.” (No, technically, you’re not. But you have lived here almost three goddamned decades. And it’s not hard to give those directions: They both consist of “turn left.”) And whereas you at least used to handle the money and paperwork properly, now you don’t even do that. When I work after you, I have to make massive corrections, pull registration cards out of the file, double- and triple-check the cash drawer to figure out which room didn’t get posted correctly, etc.*
On a personal level, you are the singular most negative, unpleasant human being I’ve ever met, and one of the most willfully ignorant.** Even your halfway pleasant interactions are dripping with nasty little barbs and backhanded compliments - for example, your comment the other evening about my baby daughter: “She’s sure not too unpleasant for a baby who gets so spoiled by her mommy and daddy.” (Direct quote.) As near as I can tell, two of your co-workers and one of your former co-workers are your only social interactions, other than the next door neighbor who depends on you to drive her for medical treatment. And guess what? As of this morning, all three of your colleagues are pretty well done with you. I’ve tried to be pleasant, and I know you haven’t had the easiest life, but I don’t care anymore. I’ll be sorry to leave my job when we move next month, but I’m so looking forward to never having to talk to you again.
Sincerely,
Me
*I strongly suspect the early stages of some sort of dementia. And I’m very sorry about that, and wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. But whether it’s illness or sheer contrary-mindedness, she’s getting even less pleasant and competent by the day. It’s a pure pity that none of her three children even telephone her for birthdays or Mother’s Day, much less check on her health, safety, and financial well-being, but dear God, if that bitch had raised me, I’d have run away and changed my name too!
** She really, sincerely, honestly doesn’t realize that the Colbert Report is satire. Nothing will convince her otherwise.
Lacunae Matata, that story makes my blood boil. I know tons of good, hardworking, fun, intelligent, pleasant people who CANNOT FIND A JOB no matter how many resumes they send out, applications they fill out, asses they kiss. They would jump at the chance for a regular-paying gig, even part-time, and would not be miserable incompetent bastards.
The same co-worker I ranted about a couple of days ago has a little quirk that has all of us front desk ladies very confused. She always has a pair of glasses hanging from the front of her shirt, yet she never puts them on. She, instead, will pull the computer screen all the way up, lean all the way forward, and peer as hard as she can to read the text on the screen. None of us have ever seen this lady put on her glasses. Cool Night Audit Lady thinks she’s in denial about turning fifty tomorrow and doesn’t want to wear the glasses because it will show her age.
Okay, I’ve worn glasses all the time since I was eight years old. Wearing glasses doesn’t make you look old. Peering at the computer from two inches away while a pair of glasses is not even six inches from your head makes you look a bit crazy. I’m waiting for one of the guests to make a concerned comment. I know it’s coming.
Lacuna, maybe when your hotel loses oodles of business, TPTB might realize Hateful McGee isn’t a good fit? No, I didn’t think so. Good vibes on getting away from her.
Unfortunately, we seem to keep finding all of the idiots who say that they want a job, who apply for a job, and interview for a job, and are hired for a job, and then don’t show up for the job… Or, you know, idiots.
I put in my notice as soon as we signed the paperwork for our new house - over three weeks ago. Told the boss that my last day could be anywhere between the first and the eighth of June, giving one colleague enough time to take her planned vacation, and giving us plenty of time to hire and train someone in this position. So far, we’ve hired two people to replace me. One never showed, didn’t call, nothing. The second began training last weekend. She worked two nights with me, trained one night on second shift, called last night ten minutes before her training shift, telling her colleague that she was on her way to the hospital. No further communication afterwards, nor did she show up for her training tonight… Maybe the third time’s the charm. (We went through the same thing last year: We needed another part-timer behind the desk, so that our schedules could be more flexible and to cover for my maternity leave. The first two hires never showed, the third was a Mo-Ron, and the fourth was a bitch. We kept that bitch as long as we could stand her, but I came back from my maternity leave way, way soon. (As in, work through March 21, baby due on March 31, born on April 3, and she and I returned to work on April 20.)
I’m beginning to think that the secret to Bitchy McBitchPants’ job security is that she shows up, plain and simple. Or she knows where the owner has hidden the bodies.
Also, the glasses thing? Very, very odd. Does she forget that she has glasses? Or need a new prescription?
My daughter had a job working for Half Price Books for a while. After a couple of months, they promoted her and gave her a raise. She was somewhat bemused (but grateful) by this. I told her “Honey, you show up on time, every time, you’re sober, you’re ready to work, and you’re pleasant. That puts you ahead of about 90% of the usual run of employees. You’re also smart, a quick learner, and a hard worker. This makes you a very valuable employee indeed.”
And no, she’s not looking for a job now. She has an excellent job, with excellent pay.
Have you considered hiring retirees for these jobs? Okay, they probably don’t want to work full time, or long hours, period, so hire 2-3-4.
Generally speaking, they have better manners and certainly understand about work ethics better than the under 30s.
Plus, old people don’t sleep very well - they’re up anyway. 
Unfortunately, we’ve had nearly equal problems hiring older problems as hiring younger. One of the idiots who was hired to fill in while I was on maternity leave was a very, very nice 67-year-old lady. She was computer-illiterate (fixable) and flatly refused to shut up long enough to listen to the people trying to train her (unfixable.) Bitchy McBitchPants is a semi-retired 62-year-old, and her manners are atrocious. In fact, the lady I replaced in this position two years ago was then about 61 or 62, and was removed from the overnight shift because her health issues made it unwise to schedule her to work while no other employees were on site. (She was found one morning, collapsed, due to a near-fatal diabetic episode. Which is very, very bad. Of course, the fact that she was/is a chronic alcoholic with a prescription pill addiction didn’t help that situation… Not talking out of turn here, that’s her description of herself.)
I guess we’ll start over tomorrow on the hiring/training stuff. Sigh.