Random bout of self-pity ahead. Even I am ashamed of it. Please, skip to the next post. I insist!!!

Had a revelation somewhere around 4 a.m. when I realized that my car truly is in danger of being repo’d. I checked my bank account and have exactly enough for one and a half payments, so I attempted to call GMAC and their TruePay office, which doesn’t open till 7. So I am waiting. And breaking out in hives.

I brought a ton of work home last night, but I couldn’t look at it. Surprise. The office was cold and miserable yesterday, and I was too busy shivering and drinking my coffee/hot chocolate concoctions and feelin’ hungry, as I’d forgotten to eat all day. Oh well. As I can only afford Ramen noodles at this point, I wasn’t missing much. 🙂 The high point to my day was an extensive IM conversation, during which time I worked on my stories and did an interview. And I also created a mini social club for some of my interviewees, hooking them up with each other because of their mutual interests. I swear, could anyone appreciate the nuances of my job? Our members get such a bonus from me — what will they do when I leave? 🙂

And then it kinda slapped me hard in the face this morning, as I am dealing with my now-daily migraine and “I don’t WANNA go to school!” petulance. They are still breathing down my neck about stuff at work, and I can appreciate their apprehension. Fine. But y’know, I have problems too. I have volunteer work that is being neglected, bills that aren’t being paid, friends who haven’t heard from me, etc. Shan and I had a long discussion last night about how we are missing out on what’s important — that we have no time or energy for building relationships with those who are special to us — that our work lives should be flexible and fun. She’s so into this One Minute Millionaire stuff, but it makes several good points, not the least of which is that you need to make enough money *right now* to prepay your life, so that when a family issue comes up (or maybe just a great three-week trip to a tropical island, your pick), you have the money to pay for your life while you are gone. And then, you would only *really* have to work to pay for the extras in life, as your basic living expenses are in the bank already.

At Two Strikes, when I was super-busy and then too tired to deal with anyone, I could always be counted on to send a gift or pick somebody up for lunch or dinner. Money didn’t solve my problems, but it helped. A lot. Even on those nights when I’d leave at 10 p.m. or so, I’d call Fat Head’s and order a Sweet MB or a South Shore Steak & Egg to go. These days, I come home and hope that I bought something when I did have a few bucks, because otherwise, it’s cat food. And Maddie doesn’t like to share. Trust me. 🙂 Now if only her catnip (i.e., kitty pot) could be so effective on me. …

At any rate, my hottest point with work right now is that I had to tap-dance to save this job, and financially it has never been and never will be worth my while. Nor are they worth wasting my talents on, for much longer. I’ll see them through the next few issues, but so help me if I have to train a superior. They had asked me, the day I had to fight for this job, what I would do if someone were hired over me. I told them that isn’t going to happen, so I refuse to go there in my mind. And while I was pleased with my assertive answer, well, those people are just strange and probably didn’t appreciate my boldness (as the Town Crier informed everyone in the office that they think I’m a steamroller and that I need to mind my place in the bowels of the organization — that fucking bitch). Fuck ’em — I was being honest. Like I told Shan, what would they have said if, in response to, “Would you stay here if you didn’t get the promotion?”, I’d said, “Would YOU?!?!”

I would imagine that this was the attitude that made HRP at the old job refer to me as “Cavalier.” Many readers have asked the origins of this nickname, and that’s where it came from. HRP had My Hero address my “cavalier attitude,” at which time I told him that I’d officially been called every “C” word in the book, after hearing that one. 🙂 He couldn’t suppress a smile, and since then, it became a recurring joke among the minority of Two Strikes staff members who looked like me.

So, I am quite used to employers thinking I’m a wild child. That’s OK. But to have idiots like the Town Crier saying this shit about me is unacceptable — why are the execs confiding in her? Why not tell me instead?

It’s simple, really. They’re afraid of the Shans and Dawns of the organization (okay, just the two of us). They don’t appreciate talent and vision and passion. They want to keep the place medicated. They want to do monthly potlucks and casual Fridays and generate “warm, fuzzy” feelings. They don’t want to see that association illuminate its own field. They don’t understand their market and they don’t let people who know the market to speak on their behalf.

Shan and her dad and I, as a team, could turn that money pit into a profit center in one year’s time, probably less. The running joke is that if someone would follow us around with notebooks, listen to our ideas and scribble them down, they’d make millions on the books they could publish. But noooo, we have to sit like good little drones and tap-dance so that we can pay our rent or mortgage each month. And here I thought employers LIKED independent thought.

The team is off-balance. They’re a bunch of hems, from the “Cheese” book. They fear change and insist on retaining the status quo. And the thing with “dream teams” is that you need each personality type. You need fire and change on one hand, and logic and respect for the existing system on the other hand. And you’ve got to have passion from all players. And like Shan pointed out, the fire and change is not at the top, but among the steerage, where it doesn’t belong. And when those of us with fire and passion and vision give up on them, well, they’ll be stuck with Solitaire and Town Crier and everyone else who lacks the innovation gene. And then, they will never survive.

But I don’t care if they go under. Shit, when that happens, Shan and I will be sunning ourselves on a white sandy beach, drinking umbrella drinks and admiring cabana boys. …

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