Sit, Kneel, Sit
2.22.8
O, what a terrible week! Terrible enough even to warrant the Shakespearean spelling of the word, "Oh." (Note that this is appropriate not because Shakespeare wrote masterful tragedies or anything, but because his continued popularity in the world of literature is a tragedy.)
As last Thursday rolled around, things were pretty good for the most part. Sure, I was still getting used to the news that Autumn was suddenly jobless, but otherwise I was ready for: A kick-ass Anti-Valentine's Day party, my second anniversary with Autumn, and the glorious four-day weekend that was to encompass both events.
It all went rather well to begin with. The party was a great success...perhaps the best AVD so far. Friday was a nice day, too; we sat around for most of it just nursing our hangovers, and watching TV (I am suddenly reminded, however, that this day was not without it's imperfections, as I had somehow managed to pull an ass muscle during some sexual activity that night). Saturday started off enjoyably, as well. We had invited Charlie and Adam over for an evening of Monopoly and, of course, more drinking. After our guests had left for the night, and Autumn and I had retreated to bed, the awfulness began.
I awoke in the middle of the night to a vague rumbling in my stomach. I tried to ignore the sensation for as long as possible, but eventually the silent gurgle became a cacophony of bodily noises unlike anything I was used to hearing. It grew louder still before forcing me out of bed. I bolted to the bathroom, took a seat, and unleashed a symphony of sound and liquid.
From that point on, I was a grandfather clock, faithfully announcing each new hour with its own special serenade. It got worse, though. A couple of hours into this dance, I suddenly had a new problem. It seemed that other parts of me wanted to join the chorus as well.
Now the game became "Sit, Kneel, Sit." Each time I went in to sit, I found that I would also have to kneel. A couple of times I even found myself in the embarrassing situation of having to sit and kneel at the same time. The first instance of this came by surprise, and ended disastrously. I ended up sitting all over the floor while I knelt. From then on, I learned to simply kneel into the bathtub next to me to avoid a repeat of that situation.
Around 5 in the morning, I could no longer take it. I was in enough pain that I just wanted to be taken to the hospital. By this point, Autumn had already left the bedroom for quieter quarters. I yelled for her, but in my weakened state my voice couldn't carry to the couch. I yelled again and again, but to no avail.
I had almost given up, and had decided to simply lie on the floor crying, when I suddenly had one last wind. I closed my eyes, clenched my fist, and let loose a bellow of monstrous proportions. I could barely even recognize my own voice. Finally, I heard Autumn coming through the darkness, calling to me with a terribly worried voice. I must have made her think I was dying, which then made me feel bad. This, of course, sent me into a drunken-style fit of crying and apologizing.
After much cajoling, Autumn finally convinced me to actually go to the hospital (which had no longer seemed like such a good idea after having time to think about it). She handed me a small wastebasket, and I dizzily half-stepped all the way to the car. During the ride there, my view was comprised of overhead power lines and the occasional yellow light whizzing by above us. I remember repeatedly asking Autumn to drive the speed limit, and she kept on telling me that she was. I still don't know if I believe her, though.
When we arrived at the hospital, Autumn found a spot, and placed the car into park which, of course, meant that the car continued to roll as I tried to exit. "Damnit...it's been doing this recently," she informed me. Great! Another problem...this time of the car variety.
We went in, and for the next several hours I was filled with fluids and several types of medication. By the time I was done with my 3rd bag of fluid, I was very happy that Autumn had taken me to the hospital. (The hospital itself, by the way, was very competently run, and I would recommend it to anyone in the area with emergency care needs.)
Sitting in that hospital room was how Autumn and I began our second anniversary...
An interesting side note: Also on this morning, one of the three unforgivable people in my life was reading about himself on my site. He even left a comment talking about how sorry he is for what he did to Autumn and I. Obviously, he is inconsequential. I just find his timing to be ironic enough to warrant mention.
Anyway...we already knew that her current job situation was going to postpone our original anniversary dinner at Fleming's, but now it seemed that our backup plan of The Cheesecake Factory would be a wash, too. That night, all I ate was a cracker, a piece of banana, and a lot of really expensive water.
The sickness continued on for days (I still don't feel completely well, actually). Following doctor's orders, I took an extra day off from work. This, of course, pissed me off intensely. I had thought that I had beaten the "2/19 curse," but here I was again.
Oh well...
On Wednesday, I finally returned to work, where the crap-fest continued.
See, the thing you have to remember about my job is that it kind of sucks. One of my main functions each day is to teach basic things to some of the stupidest people alive. Essentially, when one of these morons fucks something up, it's up to me to explain to them that they have fucked up, and to give them the appropriate solution. The problem with stupid people, though, is that they don't realize that they're stupid...and they really don't like to be told that they're wrong (especially not "sales driven, results oriented" stupid people).
Unfortunately, this was the week during which all of my favorite idiots would decide to just fuck everything up completely. This led to a lot of frustration on my part, which was only compounded by the fact that these assholes kept deciding to confront my suggestions with sheer hostility. At least three separate people sent snarky responses to me...one in particular even attacking me several times with bold 20-point font in an inaccuracy-ridden e-mail that proved just how little she actually knew about anything.
But I digress. We all know how much I hate stupidity, so needless to say...I was irritated to no end.
Of course, my workweek also isn't complete until the company itself fucks me over somehow, and this week was apparently "buy one get one free." The first incident occurred when the extra day off I had taken earned me one "occurrence point" on the dehumanized "no fault" attendance system we use. For the uninitiated...ten "occurrence points" in a year basically means that you can will be terminated.
Now, I'm not worried about hitting 10 points. That's not the issue. The problem was that given the notice I gave, and per the definitions laid out by corporate policy, my absence qualified as a planned one. Since it was not "unplanned," then no points should have been accrued at all.
When I discovered that the point had indeed been added, and that there was seemingly nothing I could do about it, I just flipped out completely. I stormed off to lunch, and was gloom and doom for the entire last half of the day. It even got to the point where my boss yelled at me, just because I was starting to piss him off.
In retrospect, the attendance point wasn't really that big of a deal. It was just the principle of the matter that bothered me, and after a whole week of bad news, it was also the straw that broke the camel's back.
By the time the final piece of bad news came at the end of my shift today, I was too worn out to do anything but laugh. This was when our reviews finally showed up, along with their associated raises. Now, I go to work every day and bust my ass. I deal with complete morons, and other various bullshit. I do everything I can to be the best employee I can be. I was the recipient of a stellar review this year. Because of all this, I expect a decent raise.
Like everything else the company touches, though, my raise was dehumanized, run through a computer, and turned into a number. This number was an insult. In fact, it was so low that for the first time ever I'm working on something for the "comment" section before I give it back for processing. It starts like this: "According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, 'The Consumer Price Index [in January of 2008] was 4.3 percent higher than in January 2007.' The proposed raise, therefore, fails to even keep up with the cost of living."
It's still a work in progress, but rest assured, it will be done by 8:30 am, Monday morning.
