word from moonbase alpha

Programs.
Accessories.
Notepad.

At least there are a few gracious consistencies in life.

So I'm sitting here at ten to midnight on a Tuesday evening, a hundred miles or so from home, link-hopping through livejournals and suddenly remembering how the hours of my life got sucked away before I moved into a house without the internet. Lost, alone and on the internet, talk about your fates worse than death.

But on the subject of houses, in a strange turn of events the good doctor received a phone call on Monday to say that we were welcome to stay for another year in our current abode and that they would even do us the service of not demolishing it on top of us during that time. While this was surely a plus, the rest of Monday was unfortunately not.

The CEO of the company for which I work has always been rude and abusive. He also has what I suspect is some kind of psychological problem or mental illness which causes him to remember certain situations or circumstances differently to the way in which they occurred, if they in fact occurred at all. I would normally just write it off to poor recollection, but he believes so fanatically in these memories and has a temper that is prone to escalate suddenly (I'd often considered how such a person could be judged fit to run a business, but that's not the subject of my anecdote). Examples of such situations are where he will insist that he has asked someone to do something during a meeting, but notes, the minutes and everyone else there points to his having said he would do it himself. He contradicts reports, computer-generated data, as well as other witnesses to things who he will curse at like a sailor and call a liar to their face. It's really quite something, and would be more of a curiosity if he didn't conduct himself in such a coarse, foul-mouthed and downright loathsome fashion all of the time. The friction this causes is compounded by a habit to repeat himself constantly in discussions for blocks of time from several minutes to over an hour, where he will talk over the top of others about the same finite point. We once had fifteen staff gob-smacked as he managed to spend seventy-five minutes saying that floorstaff needed to pick up the phone if it was ringing. Again, a remarkable trait that has garnered many comments and resignations.

I tend to think that I am a reasonably tolerant person, sometimes to the borderline of apathy. But on Monday, having sat through another session of being sworn at like a whore, this time because he decided that staff under his control (whose positions are above mine in the management hierarchy) were my responsibility and that I was then to blame if they were not fulfilling the requirements of their position (I should take this chance to note that my job is to answer the phone, enter data into spreadsheets, process the mail and create reports). But the thing that was different about Monday you see, was that somewhere in between being huffed and spat at, I found that a decision had been made in the back of my mind of which I didn't know the origins, but couldn't dispute the resolve of. I went back to my desk and completed the tasks for the day that I am depended on to do, then spoke to my manager to say I was off for the day and I wouldn't be back tomorrow, or at all. This didn't come as a great shock, as I had informed them 11 days ago that I was leaving (and by agreement I am required to give two hours notice of resignation or forfeit two hours pay), and her own experiences with the fat man gave her great empathy for my choice.

It still leaves me without a solid sense of closure, and part of me curses the wasted opportunity of not instructing the CEO to forcibly insert the life-line exercise card into his anus, but that is not how I do things. I expect however that in the coming few days of sleeping late, lazy afternoons and cups of tea, that my unease about the whole thing will fade away until it becomes just another footnote in my catalog of tales.

My new dilemma is that without the monotone ritual of the work of a prole, my mind becomes distracted to greater questions of purpose and goals, which traditionally leads into a cycle of confusion and a feeling of great uncertainty.

That, and I forgot to pack my book.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.