Chick Fight

I realize that I haven't posted in forever and why is a post for another day.

Today is all about the chick fight I want to get into with the bitch in our main office.

We don't have an HR person. Instead we have the VP of Money and the Bitch of Payroll. I have walked a very fine line with the Bitch of Payroll for a long ass time. I kiss her ass and pretend that I don't think she fucked something up everytime I ask her to fix my guy's paychecks. I talk sweetly to her and kiss her ginormous ass and everytime I'm at the main office I devote 30 minutes to listening to her tell me ALL about her life.

Yesterday I had a migraine from hell. I mean can't-lift-your-head-off-the-pillow-the-husbands-voice-is-needles-through-your-skull-the-light-from-the-crack-in-the-closet-door-is-a-knife-through-your-closed-eyes-and-fuck-dealing-with-children-because-everytime-you-think-about-getting-up-the-world-spins-and-you-vomit migraine. And our company has this beautiful policy of "no doctor's note no pay" for sick days. It makes me want to bring a note from my mommy as well. (In fact if I ever won the lottery that's what I'd do. I'd take a sick day and come back to work with a note from my mommy instead of the doctor and when they bitched about that I'd bring a doctor's note with no diagnosis on it and tell them how fucking ILLEGAL they are being by making me have a diagnosis on my sick note from my mommy doctor.)
Anyway. So yesterday as I was contemplating how much I shouldn't be driving to go to the doctor I thought that maybe there was a form that I could turn in from a doctor saying that I have been diagnosed with migraines and might miss work from time to time for them and maybe that would count as my doctors note. So in my foggy head it seemed like a good idea to call and ask the Bitch of Payroll. Notsomuch.

I won't lie to you and say that I was pleasant. I was in pain. But I did apologize to her several times for my waspishness, and she said "Oh don't worry about it, I get migraines too!!" and then she told me that I could a) go to the doctor and bring back a note b)not go to the doctor and ask Red-neck Boss if I could use a vacation day (which I need for Bean's surgery) or c) not get paid.

And we got off the phone and she immediately called Anal Boss to complain because I called her.

So today I got pulled into Red-neck Boss's office to ask me about my phone call with the Bitch of Payroll.

Seriously?!?!? Payroll is a people centric job. If you cannot talk to people without getting your panties in a wad YOU SHOULD NOT DO IT.

I think maybe I should file a complaint because the Bitch of Payroll said hello to me last week and that's not following the chain of command. She needs to tell the VP of Money to tell Anal Boss to tell Red-neck Boss that she said hello.

And this is why I hate working with women.

I Probably Would Have a Brilliant Name for This Post, but I'm Brain-dead

You may have noticed that I haven't done any original posts this week. Not to say that I copied them, because I didn't, but they were all directed in some way.

That's because I'm brain-dead, for no particular reason.

But I have had this post that doesn't really make any sense in mind for a while, so I thought I'd go ahead and run with it.

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Are you one of those women?? You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones who never have a wardrobe malfunction (of the Janet Jackson variety or of the I-really-thought-these-socks-matched variety) and whose hair is always exactly in place and whose make-up looks fantastic all day long.

I am not.

I frequently look like a zombie after lunch, with my eyeshadow melting downward to make the circles uder my eyes appear darker than they really are, and my mascara making little marks on my eyelids and my T-zone greasy and nasty.
I've tried reapplying before I eat, it doesn't help.

Often my hair does not cooperate with me and looks like I stuck a finger in an electrical socket.

And regularly I get to work only to look in the mirror in the womens' restroom and think "This outfit looked fine from my mirror..".


I don't get it. I'm probably the most girly of all of my close friends. I take time in the mornings to look presentable. So why is it that I don't??

And I really don't understand how those women do it.

Is it something you're born with??

Do you have to be taught??

Is it a confidence driven illusion or is it real??

I'm at a loss. Maybe one of you can enlighten me.

Rack Application

So when a male boss decides he's going to hire someone, he gathers all the resumes together and he goes to interview the applicants and if all the applicants are also males then he chooses the best qualified applicant. But if one or more of them happens to be female then he chooses the best qualified applicant with the best looking rack, whether he knows that's what he's doing or not.

When a female boss decides she's going to hire someone, she gathers all the resumes together and interviews the applicants and then decides who out of the best qualified would be the best fit personality wise within the company regardless of what rack they do or do not have.


The problem with all of this is two pronged 1)as many women can attest, hot women know they are hot, and are drama prone and irritating and 2)unfortunately, most of us have male bosses, (or at least I've usually had male bosses). So the best way to counter the inherent stupidity of men in the "Rack Application Process" is to have a trustworthy female assistant who can look at the male boss and say "Really, her rack was not impressive enough to make up for the amount of drama she's going to cause in the office. Go with #3."


Obviously I have experience here. And fortunately after a bit of trial and a lot of error (and a whole lot of "I told you so" from me), my bosses finally decided to listen to me a little when it came to hiring someone new.


Last time it worked out awesome - they got Bean. We'll see if they like the guy I picked this time. Of course if he turns it down & they go with the one I wasn't sure about then I still have a little room to "I told you so", and then we all win.