Let's talk smack

Ever had one of those days where you imagine yourself walking into a cement wall again, and again, and again ... c'mon - don't lie. I know you know what I'm talking about.


My day began much the same as most others ... with me schmucking the sleep button roughly 4 times too many (and at 7 minutes per pop - I started at a 28 minute deficit) ... then off to the shower. Once clean, I set about the spackle & paint job that I recreate every morning and then off to work. My commute is roughly 25 minutes at a conservative 10kms over posted ... I may have pushed the envelope on that this am.

Recently, Narcissus (my boss man) decided to give me (or rather allow me to use) a company vehicle in lieu of a raise (... for the past 5 years of my devoted servitude). Now, I suppose the concept was not without merit. Having a vehicle paid for isn't all bad ... and you come off fairly good where taxes, etc are concerned. However, the style of vehicle becomes crucial in this equation. He owns three Mercedes. Very high end Mercedes - like I'm gonna say a little better than a quarter mil worth... I wasn't expecting a Lexus here - but I am management and I am his longest employee ('cause most have grabbed a clue LONG before 5 years go by and get the ef out) so I was at minimum expecting to have a say in the purchase so that it would be a functional vehicle for me. I am a mom ... with size 10 feet, I might add - I'm not little, and I have a family (as previously mentioned) as well as a 90 odd pound dog ... we had been finding the fit of our minivan on the tight side. So ... what does he go out and buy for me to drive? An effing Pontiac Wave ... sweet Mary, mother of God - what am I supposed to do with that? Had he bought me one for each foot, I might have worn them like roller skates ... seriously, folks - I really don't mean to sound quite so ungrateful, but I got groceries last night ... and you know the re-usable cloth bags that the stores are using now?? Six ... I could fit only SIX effing bags into my trunk ... no TP, no cat litter, no dogfood (I didn't buy any - 'cause I knew I would not have the room) ... hell - I didn't even buy laundry detergent for space concerns. I had both kids - so that's the back seat gone - and between my purse, my arse and my feet ... let's call the front occupied ... WTF??!! I'm going to have to do groceries over a two day span. I hate the grocery store. Never mind the fact that I might as well have my pay directly deposited there (not that I GET direct deposit) but ponder this: You move every item you purchase at least seven (often eight) times before ever considering eating it. Shelf - cart - conveyor belt - bag - cart - trunk - house - counter - cupboard/fridge/freezer/bathroom etc. EIGHT TIMES!!! Talk about waste of time and energy ... but to have to drag that over two trips - what am I? A masochist? Needless to say - I'm not overly happy about the car. Had I been allotted a budget and was able to come up with one that I chose - I could have seen that feeling like a perk ... but this? This feels like a punishment ... and if I wasn't in the financial state I am in - I would have declined to take it at all. And you know what? He is exploiting that very fact. He knows I am in a bad spot. He knows I need a vehicle. He could have bought out my van loan for me for LESS MONEY THAN THIS PIECE OF SHIT COST - like by $5K. Does that make an iota of sense to anyone out there? Every day he asks me how much I love my new car ... my inner self is sobbing way back behind memorized reruns of the Simpsons ... I hate it - I fucking hate it ... I'm black and blue from all the places I have hit my head, knees, hips, elbows ... I nearly knocked myself unconscious the other day trying to buckle my youngest's car seat. Still have an egg on my forehead from it. But ... my slightly more diplomatic outer voice simply says: it's fine... which makes him pissy because he wants me to swoon at his overwhelming generosity ... something I might have done if there was an ounce of truth behind the sentiment. Truth is, I have been a loyal and productive employee for 5 years. I have no health/dental. I have no pension, no company savings, no shares. I have NEVER gotten a raise in my salary. He has been known on many occasions to dock my pay for snow days, etc. I was promised commission 4 years ago. I was given a model/formula to follow and have been in line for a commission cheque EVERY YEAR since. I got a lap top for $1K and a $500.00 chq the very first year (which only represented half a year). He owes me well in excess of $8K (not including last year) and I've never seen a penny. When I asked him about it - he determined that since he didn't make enough profit from his other lines of business, that I somehow didn't deserve my bonus anymore. So, yeah - I am having a really tough time with the stupid effing piece of shit tin can on dinky wheels.


People wonder why I am bitter.



So, after my commute in the roller skate - I make it to work. There I am met with email after email containing unhappy news regarding files I am working. Next, I'll have me a little spat with an underwriter ... oh, no wait ... Narcissus just interrupted what I was working on so I could come in and polish his apple in front of his client ... act pleasant ... tell Mr Client how fantastic Narcissus is ... how lucky we all are, working within the hallowed halls of cock-henge ... never mind the fact that there is real work that needs to be completed on my desk, just make him look good - and I do... selling yet another ounce of my soul. Then it's back to ... what was I doing again?? Oh yes - I was picking a fight with a person who has all the power ... sounds familiar. Next I'll take seventeen calls from the same person - ew ... lunch! I'm gettin' the hell outta here. Back after lunch and another deal flies sideways ... now some fighting with a lawyer, that's always a treat.


Soon, it will be time to leave. I would feel more excited about this except the reality is that I am going to have to go BACK to the grocery store ... with both kids ... in the mini-mobile ... which puts supper behind and makes them cranky and me cranky and we'll fight all night long until either they crash, or I do.... smack .... smack .... smack ..... smack .... smack .... smack .... smack (this is me walking into the wall ...)