|
November 26, 2001: I fucking hate my jobI fucking hate my job. I hate running around solving other peoples' problems, I hate rude customers, I hate having to answer the phone every time it rings. I hate how half the time I'm able to help people not because I know more about the product than they do but simply because I'm smarter than they are. I hate not producing anything; a satisfied customer is just a disembodied voice on the other end of the phone, it's not something you can see or touch or even simply click on. I hate how this company is perpetually, supposedly on the brink of greatness but never actually makes it. I hate how everyone is miserable and always talking about layoffs. I hate how the sales people are so sycophantic to all the customers, whilst simultaneously completely clueless about our products. I hate how our software is so fucking flaky and buggy and I have to listen to people complain about it and I have nothing to say because I KNOW THE BUGS WILL NEVER BE FIXED BECAUSE WE'RE TOO FUCKING DISORGANIZED TO FIX THEM. Did you know we were on the brink of releasing a new version of a product a week ago, and during the developer meeting that day the CTO said "Does the new release include $FEATURE?" and everyone said "No, I didn't know we were supposed to implement that" and the CTO said "Oh, we can't release it until we've implemented that." Would it be too much to ask that you could tell the fucking developers what features you want implemented!? Would that be too hard? Would that destroy the company culture? Because right now the company culture is all about releasing CRAP. And I don't know what I should do. Should I suck it up for another year until I have a baby? What if I don't get pregnant right away and I have to suck it up for two years? Or more? Can I stand that? Do I really want to go through all the stress of starting a new job, having to impress everyone, going through the learning curve? Actually, you know what? I do. A change would be good, and I'm up for the challenge of starting a new job and the stimulation of learning new things. But can I give up what I've got here? I've got a nice cushy office with green walls and a leather couch, I've got good friends who come a visit with me in my office, lax management, long lunches, a good location. I'm all settled in. That's part of the problem, of course. I need a shake up, I'm too familiar with this place, with how the company works, and thus contemptuous. But I've got it so good. I must think about how important those little perks really are. I have to point out that I wrote the above while on the phone to the most annoying customer ever. I'm that good, that I can be polite and vitriolic at the same time. I was in fine form at choir practice today; I sounded great and somehow I knew all the notes, even in the Coronation Anthems. And the Saint-Saens Christmas Oratorio is too pretty for words; I can't wait to hear it with the orchestra. The Annoying Soprano was in fine form tonight, bigass vibrato and all. If you're a soprano choral singer, you know who I mean: all choirs have one. She's the one who sings a little louder, a little longer than everyone else. The one who scowls and makes comments when other people don't get it right. The one who sings the solo bits "under her breath", just loud enough for everyone else to hear what a great singer she is. (That's only good when she's so entranced with her lovely solo that she misses the choral entry. Hee hee.) Tonight there was one part where Jerome was trying to get us to sing a five bar phrase without breathing, which I can't do because my breath control is for shit. (However, I must point out that I wasn't breathing in the really obvious place, and I was doing it subtly.) So Miss Annoying Soprano says, "under her breath", "if I can sing opera, I can sing this!" Well, la di da. A, Anyone can pay for voice lessons, that doesn't mean squat, B, singing opera isn't about not breathing very often; some of the best opera singers breath like, every other bar, the art is in making it sound convincing, and C, just because you've sung some opera doesn't mean you're any good, and it doesn't mean we're going to swoon all over you, Miss Vibrato Lady. But apart from her fantastic contribution, which wasn't nearly as annoying as I'm making it sound, it was a really good rehearsal. This concert is going to kick ass. You'll be sorry you missed it. |