more Dilbertian bullshit

Bad way to start a Monday: A meeting.

Even worse way to start a Monday: Going to the meeting and finding out that they’re discontinuing the alternative work arrangement.

Not sure what I’m talking about? Let’s take a trip in the Wayback Machine!

Several years ago, the Cube Farm decided to offer an alternative work arrangement: every other week, you could get an extra day off, and work 10-hour shifts the rest of the week. Not everyone wanted this, and they didn’t have to take it. I, of course, jumped at the opportunity. Every other Monday OFF? Um, yes, please!

And lo, didst I frolic. I went to the mall when practically no one else was there! I logged marathon reading sessions on Big Brown! I got errands done! I napped! I went to matinees and joyously slung my legs over the empty seat in front of me! I mean, sure, those 10-hour days were painful, but it was well worth it to me.

But apparently the Cube Farm didn’t realize that California has a little law about alternative work arrangements: if one person takes it, everybody has to take it…and on the same day, no less. Somehow this little detail slipped through the cracks, until some astute person (WHO I HATE) noticed it and brought it to the bigwigs’ attention.

To add to the fun, they’re also tweaking our schedules. The managers for our department listed all the shifts that need to be covered, and told us to figure it out among ourselves. Bitches be wiggin’, because practically everyone wants the 8AM-4:30PM shift. Fortunately, nobody wants the 9:30AM-6PM shift except me, so odds are good that I’ll get it. I like going to bed at 1AM and getting up at 8:30. I’m a night owl. If they try to put me in the 7AM-3:30PM shift, well…let’s just say I’ll be spending a lot of time on Monster, and hopefully my new place of employment won’t consider this piece of crapitude to be fine art:





This “inspirational” poster hangs a mere twenty feet from my cube. I apologize for the shitty photo quality, but in case you can’t tell what it is, it’s an (inexplicably) wet ladybug perched on top of what is either a yellow crayon or a tightly furled flower or the tip of Big Bird’s dick, I dunno. Underneath, it says “PURPOSE: You’ll never know what you can achieve until you try.”

Hey, you know what I can achieve? Give me a hundred bucks and I’ll go to World Market and pick out a picture that doesn’t make me want to THROW IT THROUGH THE FUCKING WINDOW. Okay? How’s that for inspiration, pal? Are you inspired? Huh? How about now?

Jesus, I’m cranky. I need a Vosges Gianduja bar and a nap, stat!

---

I don’t watch a whole lot of TV, but earlier this summer, during a book drought, I began watching reruns of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. It’s not fantastic or anything, but I enjoy it, and I really like Christopher Meloni, who plays Elliot Stabler, and Mariska Hargitay, who plays Olivia Benson.

Perhaps I like her a bit too much.

The other night, I was sprawled out on Big Brown, watching as Stabler and Benson tried to coax information out of a young girl who didn’t want to talk about her molestation. Stabler, sensing she might be more forthcoming if a man wasn’t around, wisely walked away. The girl burst into tears, and Benson enveloped her in a hug.

And I was jealous!

No, not because this poor kid had been the victim of a diaper sniper, of course; I was jealous that she got to put her face in Benson’s bosom.

Her pillowy, pillowy bosom.

Don’t get me wrong; Mariska Hargitay is not a turnable, even though I think she’s insanely gorgeous. But goddamn if I don’t want her to cradle me against that glorious chest. I bet it smells like rainbows and cotton candy.

Mariska, I need a hug. Please call me.