The Divergence

Today I got to experience the unique feeling of working at a company that is undergoing a highly secretive, long drawn-out layoff.

How do you make someone neurotic?

You tell them you’re going to cut about 300 jobs randomly, evenly distributed throughout the company, and that it will happen “sometime within the next 4 to 6 weeks.”

It doesn’t take long for the rumor mill to start to grinding out all kinds of wonderful little nuggets of half-truths and misheard conversational snippets. The days go by, the weeks go by, and the anxiety slowly grows as you realize that they really aren’t going to discriminate with this layoff, that your own ass is equally on the line with everyone else’s. Then the first person is cut, and all kinds of armchair labor astrology starts in. “What was it about X that got him laid off?” And “Oh shit, if they’re willing to get rid of X, then everyone really is a target!” And “Why did they lay off X on this day? Are they going to drag it out over the next couple of weeks? Why didn’t they do everyone?” And other dark portentious mindtraps.

Finally with time you learn that your department is doing the layoffs on a given day. And then you stare at that day on your calendar and think of the bills you still have to pay, the debt you still owe, and all the contingency plans (or the lack thereof) you’ve formulated. You dust off your resume when you should be working. You think about what things you could potentially give up in order to make ends meet. You even talk to people at other places and fish around for other possible openings… just in case. Even as the day draws near, you see people you know in other departments getting the axe–people with families, people with mortgages, people with the same fucking obligations that you have. And they’re gone. Poof. As if nothing they ever did mattered or amounted to anything.

The neuroticism is enhanced by the lack of sleep that will begin to manifest as the day approaches. The night before? Might as well fucking forget it. There’s nothing like experiencing life-changing events while tripping through a sleep deprivation delerium. At some point it’s almost farcical, and all you can do is laugh at the futility of it all, and at your own weakness for investing so much effort and worry into something that is ultimately out of your control.

And then, the appointed day. And you stare at the clock and you drop by and visit your colleagues and you are so fucking worried that the day is a total wash, and you can’t possibly hope to get anything done. Then the names start to trickle in. “Oh, I knew her…” and “Oh holy shit, didn’t see that one coming,” and so on, at a snail’s pace, as the HR Angel of Death and the various members of management make their rounds through the ranks, through the buildings, culling those deemed expendable based on some arbitrary criterion derived in a boardroom by pompous assholes and statisticians somewhere.

(There were no statisticians or managers laid off today.)

Then you hear of a bunch of names… old people, young people, men, women, lifetime employees and new hires. No rhyme or reason. No discernable common thread between them, other than their loss in this game of capitalistic Russian roulette.

Today I was spared. Ginger got the axe. She now joins Luke in the “friends who were canned” club.

I hate this.

Divergence Day

Wednesday will determine whether I continue my employment at my current place, or get shown the door. The HR Russian Roulette game known as the “reduction in force” is in effect tomorrow, so I may or may not be an employed man by this time tomorrow. Either way, it is a fork in the road of my destiny, and I have no say as to which path I will head down.

Adventures at Work: Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Pain in the Ass

The following is a transcript of an actual IM conversation I had this week at work with Ginger, a.k.a. the love child of Reese Witherspoon and Roseanne Barr.

Ginger: so I watched a good movie last night

Josh: Schindler’s List?

G: PS I Love You

J: oh, close enough, they’re pretty similar

G: I cried thru most of it

J: see? similar

G: I didn’t cry during Schindler’s List

J: …

J: …

J: …

J: you really *are* going to make babies for the master race

G: whatever

J: have you seen Ol Yeller?

G: yes, and I cried at the end, my parents wouldn’t let me watch the end until years later though

J: unbelievable

J: you care more about the death of one dog than six million people

J: i’m speechless

It is for this reason that I have taken to calling Ginger “Brunhilda” instead.

No Beatings Yet

Well, so far I have managed to elude those people who want to use blunt force trauma upside my skull. Which is always good. Of course, the fact that I stayed out of work today might have something to do with it…

A pretty fortuitous time to get sick, if I do say so myself.

Granted, I’m not really as paranoid as I might have initially led you to believe. The initial thought of complete strangers reacting negatively to such damning news can be overwhelming. And I’m sure there are many who will have no reaction at all, and maybe a few who actually react positively… but the parking lot at work is a sea of McCain-Palin stickers and W’04 stickers and other such adornments that, shall we say, do not instill in me any hope of finding understanding and tolerance among my coworkers.

I do not and I refuse to lie about my true nature… but (until now) I have not volunteered any information to lead anyone to believe one thing or the other. It has absolutely no bearing on my workplace performance; I realize this, and any sane and rational human being will realize this. I just happen to know that sanity and rationality are sadly lacking amongst the people that I work with.

I know I need a new job. I fucking know already. But there is no magical place where one is insulated from bigots. This is the reality faced by anyone belonging to any kind of minority.

Embracing the Tits

So, after having presented a very reverse-homophobic situation to my readers, you have gotten together in classic Family Feud style to come up with an answer that’s on the board.

For all the marbles, show me: Embrace the tits!

So I went out for a drink with Ginger. Just a friendly drink, and just because I had a hankering for a Blue Moon. It ended up being one of the most costly Blue Moons I’d ever had. For you see, Ginger definitely had a plan this evening. When Ginger intermittently put her hands on me, and intermittently flirted with me, and conceded that she liked me (yes, in that way), the scenario I’d been afraid of–of this coquetteish young thing falling for me–was proven out.

“I don’t care if you don’t think of me as a friend,” she said. “I think of you as one, and I like you. And when you leave work, I’ll be glad to see you go, because I know you’ll finally be happy.”

Oh God.

She was all doe-eyed and trying to build a bridge to my cold and callused heart and all that, so I downed the rest of the Blue Moon and turned to look at her. (It was one of the few times that evening I could stand to even lay my eyes on her, as I could tell where this runaway train was bound.)

“Ginger, you seem like an intelligent young woman,” I said.

“Well, I am,” she replied, “I made good grades in school. I’m quite intelligent I would say, and see… no one ever acknowledges my intelligence!“

Good God, it’s worse than I thought. I realized, perhaps too late, that by being a jerk to Ginger, I’d really been turning her on, because I had forgotten about that truism that I once knew so well: girls love jerks, not nice guys.

I pulled out my wallet and sighed. “Right. Well, I want to show you something.” I opened my wallet and held it in front of her, with my tried-and-true classic picture of Asa right there in front. “Now, you are an intelligent young woman, and I’m sure you could think of many plausible explanations as to why this picture is in the front of my wallet. But, I think you probably know the most likely explanation.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Oh….”

“Yep.” I returned my wallet to my pocket. “Surely you had a suspicion.”

“Nope. Never even occurred to me.” She put her arm around me.

*sighhhhhhhhhh*

---

She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone… but I find it hard to believe she won’t tell someone at work. She just volunteers too damn much to anyone within earshot. She is the first person whom I work with who knows about it. My career is on the line now… because I had to halt her advances before it got any more awkward than it already had… because I agreed to be social to her… because I took your advice. Now I fucking have to be nice to her or she’ll fucking blackmail me and shit, and when word gets out to the wrong person I’ll get beaten half to death with a tire iron in the parking lot at work.

See, the only thing that comes from embracing tits is getting hit with a tire iron.

Pure Arrghghhbvbllllerrhbbggghhhh

I have a female problem. Namely, too many females are all up in my grill, in some of the most obnoxious ways possible. Ginger absolutely fucking refuses to take a hint, and she keeps coming by my cubicle with suction-cup toys and bouncy rubber balls to annoy me/get my attention. All this, despite the fact I told her that vaginas resemble the mouth of The Predator. Her response? “No they don’t. I should know, I’ve had an ‘experience’ with a girl before.” As if that’s supposed to entice me or something. Even if I had the slightest interest in females, the detailed description of how you contracted conjunctivitis in a tanning bed, as well as all the skeezy things you’ve done with fraternities and shit, would have pretty much reduced all romantic interest to some negative quantity. Goddamn.

So, in addition to her, I have Luke’s current “friend who’s a girl but isn’t a girlfriend” throwing herself on me. Now, she knows I’m exclusively gay, so I think she enjoys tossing her funbags around in my general presence just to see my horrified expression, but she has been fucking all over me lately and it’s incredibly annoying. I mean, I guess it’s good she’s all comfortable around me and shit, but damn. I don’t want a girl “accidentally” falling into my lap and shit. Seriously. I probably just need to stop reacting; my shuddering and shrieks of “ugh, I don’t want to see that” always elicit laughter from both her and Luke. According to her, I am the only gay she knows who doesn’t like breasts. I find it hard to believe that the majority of my fey brethren are fond of the mammaries–or am I mistaken?

I need some girl repellant–I DON’T WANT COOTIES DAMNIT

The Turn-Down

“So, do you think you’ll be able to go to Knoxville to watch fireworks this weekend?”

Oh God. Well, here goes nothing.

“Actually Ginger, I don’t think I’m up to a trip to Knoxville.”

“Awwwwww.”

“Plus, it’s my aunt’s 50th birthday and we’re having a party for her this weekend.”

“Well, I can see how you’d want to stick around for that.”

Was this sarcasm? Bitterness from rejection? What hath I wrought?

“Yeah…”

“So, what about that drink? Still want to go after work and get something this evening?”

O_o

o_O

God… there’s no way this is going to not make me sound like an asshole.

“Well, as a general rule of thumb, I don’t go out and do social things with coworkers, except on rare occasions.”

“Oh I like to do social things, get to know my coworkers better… it makes work more fun.”

“When I first started here, I realized this job wasn’t ideal for me, and that I’d eventually leave this place. As such, I’ve tried to maintain my distance from all my coworkers. Hell, I didn’t even start hanging out with Luke until he got fired.”

“I see.”

“It’s nothing personal, I just know that when I do leave, the hardest part will be leaving all the people.”

“Well I’m probably going to be leaving eventually too, but that’s not going to stop me from making friends. I’m new to this area and don’t know a lot of people and I’m just trying to make some friends.”

“Friends are good.”

“Well… ok. Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

---

God, I am a horrible man. I started to go over to her cubicle several times and apologize to her for being a jerk, but I kept pulling myself away. I was actually feeling quite guilty as I left work yesterday… but I know it was something that had to be done. She was getting too close, and my career and my personal safety were in danger.

Yep, I Need a New Job…

Saturday I worked 6 hours, including my commute to and from work, which is 40 minutes one way.

Sunday I worked about 4 hours, starting at 1:30am and then continuing at random intervals throughout the day as I kept getting called despite the fact that I wasn’t on call, and the problems they were calling on weren’t my responsibility to fix.

Yesterday I worked 13 hours, not including my commute.

I think a new job is in order.

Prudent Discretion or Emotional Vampirism?

I should have known that making myself a beautiful person would lead me to the kind of situation I now find myself in.

The young lady at work who has an interest in me has caused me a great deal of concern. On the one hand, I am quite flattered by her attention; it means that I really am an attractive individual after all. Having spent years tortured with self-loathing, self-doubt, and a lot of other crap like that, it’s nice to have an ego boost for a change. On the other hand, it is definitely a one-sided deal, and I have absolutely no interest in her or her girl junk, so I feel that by not sharing my fagulosity with her, I am being disingenuous and possibly leading her on. I have gone out with her a couple of times (once with Luke, once just me and her), and I’ve tried to as subtly as possible express my disinterest in kick-starting any sort of sumthin-sumthin with her, but she doesn’t seem to be getting the hint. Her prodigious consumption of alcohol and her lack of an internal monologue do not help matters at all.

I am concerned that I may only be spending time with her to leech off of her interest in me, like some sort of horrible, horrible emotional vampirism. I’ve debated coming out to her; to date, no one at work knows about me, and I am afraid her aforementioned lack of internal monologue would put my queer ass at risk, in an environment that I know is homophobic. I really don’t know how to handle this situation in a way that will keep all parties from being hurt and/or put at risk.

ADVICE PLEASE…

An Early-Life Crisis

Well, it seems the corporation for which I work is gearing up to move me to a new area… against my will. I have withstood a slew of indignities since I started 2.5 years ago, but it feels like this will be the straw that breaks the camel’s lovely lady lumps. As such, I have been doing a lot of soul-searching, trying to decide what it is I want to do with my life, and I need your help.

I think deep down, I am a good person. I have a strong desire to do something good with my life and help people. I’ve considered something like counseling, but I don’t know. My gut tells me that I do not want to spend my life in information technology; such a job is ultimately pointless, and what sort of legacy will I leave behind? I don’t want people to look at my life years from now and say “Oh, Josh sure did know a lot about that one system… you know… with the operating system they don’t use anymore…” I want people to say “Now that Josh, he was a good person. He was there for me when no one else was. He really opened my eyes and helped me see things from a perspective I hadn’t considered before. I’ll always remember the impact he had on me.”

Every day I am writing my own epitaph; my words and deeds are my autobiography. My life is a precious and valuable gift from the universe, incredibly unlikely in a cosmological sense, and I do not feel such a gift should be squandered by allowing others to have me do things I find at best unfulfilling and at worst repugnant.

I want to help others. Tell me… how can I best do that?