Good Riddance

I didn't sleep well last night, my legs are incredibly sore (sans shoes I hobble like an old woman with bow legs, hawt), and I'm bored already. This does not bode well for today.

Sure its Hump Day and I should be thrilled that I'm almost on the other side of this week.

But mostly I'm disgruntled that I work here, my bus was rerouted again (construction this time), and my city is starting to fill up with irritatingly chipper Olympic volunteers.

Only one good thing is going to come of these Olympics and they call it the Heineken Holland House. During my unpaid week off, I will be drinking there, dressed in orange, doing my best to get on some kind of camera that will transmit my image to Amsterdam someway. Should be amusing. I think I even feel a little bit of excitement about it, which is weird since it has to do with the Olympics.

But let's not get too ahead of ourselves. That's still 3 weeks away. And in the meantime here I am, tired, sore and cranky.

I bet you are all wondering how my pizza reward went off eh? Oh man it was amazing. All that pizza, all that bonding, the feeling of being appreciated warming the very cockles of my heart. Nothing could be better.

Except sticking white hot needles in my eyes.

First of all, way to let me know that the pizza had arrived guys. I really appreciated the heads up. By the time I realized that everyone had left for pizza all the good pizzas were gone and I was left with some kind of nasty pepperoni concoction, cheese and something with a meatball. They couldn't just let us eat the pizza either, they had to make a little speech about teamwork and stuff. I would fill you in on more of the speech details but a) I wasn't listening and b) if I had remembered, would you really care? Exactly.

Now, this "reward" was for our department and one other department for all the work we did on this project to get everything caught up. So why was the accounting department digging in? Did they contribute? No? They didn't? That's what I thought- move along accounting department. You already get to more or less set your own hours and wear jeans when you want to, now you want free pizza? Sit down.

Finally- if they thought that I was going to spend my lunch hour, my precious hour of non-work time, sitting in the lunch room with supervisors and managers pretending to laugh at heinous jokes, or lapsing into work-time stories--they were sadly mistaken. I took pizza, and then I left. I'm not repeating a potluck or birthday cake situation. I don't want to bond with the "team", I want to leave it.

While we're on the subject, how is pizza a reward? A free pizza is something that excites first graders. An appropriate work reward in my mind would be a raise. Or time off. Maybe give us a Friday afternoon off. No? Course not. That would actually be appreciated and we might start to have some faith in the powers that be. They just don't seem to understand the concept that happy employees are productive employees. They are more of the school that if you keep them down, keep cracking that whip, you have control. And when you have control, things get done.

Wrong.

But enjoy running the department into the ground while you try and get a handle on this technique.

As far as I can tell the only good thing about this week is that John is away for almost all of it. Good riddance.