‘It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year’

January 31st, 2018, 4:21 AM by Goddess

Behold, my bonus …

“It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes my eyes feel sore
And whoever would’ve thought
The books that you brought
Were all I loved you for.”

— The Sundays, “Here’s Where the Story Ends”

We use the word bonus lightly. Just like, when someone else in management told a developer that an Ivy League teacher’s college — where his daughter attends — isn’t a “real school,” I might or might not have said, “Well this isn’t a real company anymore.”

But they get my snark. (There are ZERO surprises on that front. I tell them EVERYTHING and I can verify that they monitor this site like they do everything else. At least I provide entertainment.)

They let me do it. Because they also get my best. And they know it …

Look, I am smarting from one of my longtime friends being shown the door yesterday. After all the work he did to save our asses after a massive hack last week.

A hack that followed the launch of a suite of brand-new products. A suite the owner decided *I* should manage rather than the new ed director. Because:

“(Goddess) is better at her job.”

Which is fine. At least I set them up right, and will run them that way. I can/do also edit, post to the web, do the HTML layout and design for broadcast, and USE our insane new broadcasting system that I literally just learned how to use yesterday.

(We call me the “spiritual editorial director” now.)

(Did I mention the other guy takes home 50% more money and I do 200% of the work? And he got the same bonus I did?!)

If only folks were intelligent enough to comprehend this

January 29th, 2018, 8:22 PM by Goddess

250, redux

January 27th, 2018, 5:57 AM by Goddess

So imagine my surprise when, after my not-so-stellar interview at the place that assumed I make 250, they emailed.

It took me a day to get brave enough to open it.

I wasn’t surprised that it was a rejection. But, it wasn’t really a rejection. It was more like, “Loved talking with you. We want to keep the door open for when a more-senior position opens in the future.”


I wrote back what I hope was a beautiful thank-you. I’d read a funny story that had reminded me of the recruiter, and I shared it. I also said I was aware I didn’t shine as much as I could, but I really appreciated that she gave me every opportunity to try. I said of course, I would be thrilled to hear from them again someday.

They wrote back again (!) to say FWIW, don’t change a single thing about you. That they got the kind of conversation with me that they aren’t getting “amid the sea of ordinary.” And, don’t be surprised when they DO call.

This happened on the same day the company owner gave me a project he should have given my replacement. But I’m just the better choice all-around, was the reason.

So, lots of compliments yesterday. From people I respect very highly.

Nice way to end a week. Happy weekend!

The Booger, the Baker & the Big-Ass-Mess-Maker

January 25th, 2018, 5:36 AM by Goddess

I’ve been afraid that my company owner was going to bring LVP back. I already have my resignation written, in that event.

That fucker would fire me because he knows I would do my level best to treat him exactly the way he treated me. I was more loyal to him than anyone in my 40 years on this earth. And for what?

But I got a spidey-sense flash yesterday that, um, they might be picking me to help lead the charge instead.

The thing is, so did Mom (aka, Psychic Sue).

She asked what I’d do, since I have been focused on Plan B for so long. What if Plan A comes with a bigger paycheck and no LVP?

Ha ha.



Well ain’t THAT an unexpected conundrum? I mean, it’s possible. The likelihood is pretty high, actually.

But it would only work if I could fire the Booger, the Baker and the Big-Ass-Mess-Maker … and promote the women who do their work and ours. And rehire a couple others who shouldn’t be out on the street in the first place.

It would make for good blog fodder (come on, the Booger, Baker and Big-Ass-Mess-Maker? You have to love THAT). But, enh. It would have to be a big-ass NUMBER.

My luck, they’d offer to pay in Bananacoin or Dogecoin. But I’d take Ethereum!

‘There is more time than life’

January 23rd, 2018, 5:46 AM by Goddess

In the “Mexico” region of Epcot, there is a wonderful display about the Day of the Dead.

I saw this painted on a wall, and my breath caught in my throat …

It was one of those rare moments in life when you say, yes — that is the truth. There is more time than life.

I think of that as I have to coax myself into going to work. I say my gratitudes and one of them certainly is relief that they believe in me and that they pay me.

But the thing is, even though I am not exactly in possession of extra money, I have a profundity of my own. I am pretty sure they need me more than I need them right now.

It’s a powerful feeling. And one they can slap outta me right-quick with a pink slip.

This six-years-too-late empowerment helps me to be bold, for a change. To put my foot down at staying past a certain hour. To yell at the Booger Wooger Bugle Boy they named editorial director when he yells at ME for writing back to customers who have questions when I am the goddamned retention director and — oh hey — I have been corresponding with customers for 20 years buddy FUCK YOU FOR GETTING HANDED THE TITLE I EARNED MOTHERFUCKER.


Ain’t nobody got time for all this.

I spent my 30s-now-40s taking care of mom and not my social life.

I spent my 20s-then-30s-now-40s taking care of everyone else — and truth be told, I didn’t take THAT great a care of mom because I worked too hard for the almighty paycheck.

And I am under no illusion that my 40s-turned-god-willing-into-something-more isn’t going to be spent chasing more money and my tail when it comes to happiness and balance and whatnot.

You know, I was kind of excited about this new venture we’re doing. We cut out most of the overhead (dead salary weight, make no mistake) and kept the underpaid people who are the hardest workers.

For the most part, anyway — there’s still Booger-Eater and a few others who can eat more than what their snoot produces, as far as the rest of us are concerned.

And as I return to juggling 17 jobs because no one else is there to do them … and Boogie-Woogie refuses to take on the jobs I’m supposed to part with … I think, wow.

I mean, I gave up my life for LVP. AND FOR WHAT? Promises of riches and company ownership and other perks that, after five years, never came? That fucker never worked past 4 p.m. And the time leading up to 4 p.m. was filled with braggadocios stories about his arrests and $100 steaks he’s eaten and thousand-dollar wines and trips on his BFF’s yacht. Never a productive minute of supervision or coaching or a supportive word for any of us. And no bonuses/ownership/CREDIT as far as the eye could see.


I have not lived, is the point of all this. Sure, I’ve had fun. Tried to give us a good little life. But the only thing crueler than anyone I’ve ever worked for is time itself.

There’s always more than enough work to go around. And for all our complaining that “there isn’t enough time,” well, there really is. The collective we just fuck up royally when it comes to using it.

I can’t get time back. And maybe I can’t get my life back, per se, when I never really HAD one.

But, well. You know. I’m thinking it’s high time to add some life to all that time.

And this all *waves hands* ain’t the way to do it.