EDITORS NOTE: There has been some disagreement as to just how much of an asshole my supervisor really is. At one point I nearly dismantled the blog, and had taken his name down from the grudge candidate list. The four month war I was waging has instead been archived, if you want to read some truly funny shit, find the archive. (there's a link to it in here somewhere)
I am returning to this workblog, but it will no longer be all about the asshole. I've reformatted so to speak. And as always with the pages on this site, this workblog is for "entertainment purposes only", part fact, part fiction, places and names have been changed, and mutated somewhat.
THE LAST ENTRY: 10Aug06
Q: What did you do after the layoff?
A: Went home and watched the Football Hall of Fame Parade.
That's right, I wasn't paranoid, I saw it coming for the last 3 weeks or so, (it's further down the blog). I asked about taking off after I finished my actual work, which there wasn't much of this morning, 7000 pepperonies to punch. The Notorious Mr Asshole said no of course, or I would've missed my layoff.
They made quite a production out of it. First Asshole comes to me around 2:30 tells me I have to go see the Lawn Gnome Prime Minister, (formerly known as The Big Mole).
Mr Nigel of the Supreme Beings, Supervisor of the Sundried Tomato Okuma Bore Machines fell right in step, and together they marched me up to the 12th floor, past the Observation Deck and into the PM's office. He laid a speech on me and told me how bad he felt having to let me go like this. And then lets me in a round about way know that he'd rather have fired me. I quote, "I feel better firing somebody than laying them off" but made sure to let me know that I did nothing wrong and was a good worker, OK.
Then back down to the lobby past Mercy The Manatee's desk and down the frieght elevator to the subterrainian level where Human Resources and the Lady of the Tower Corpus, for my final paycheck and exit survey.
Having the escort made me feel like I was being released from jail. Company policy they tell me. Bullshit, Vance the Neikro just came by to visit, and told me 3 others got cut, but they didn't get the escort. Motherfuckers thought I was going to nut up and punch a hole in the Prime Ministers little head and put a rusty axe to my Supervisor, I actually dont blame them. But how can I be mad when I am finally shed of the Asshole, and the ultra super secret 2 year probation. It's like a breath of fresh life. I would really like to thank all those who were involved in the decision to lay me off, Salvation Army General Major Whitehead included.
There is a slight undercurrent of stress with the layoff, but when they closed United Statistics Manufacturing (my previous employment in
Dayton) I was working again within 2 or 3 weeks.
Hopefully I'll get the max benifit amount with the unemployment safety net until I'm workining again.
Needless to say, this is the end of The Supervisor is still an Asshole workblog, it will however be archived for future generations to enjoy, as it was fun writing about what I hated. Sometimes I think there's some kind of payoff for me somewhere when it comes to confrontational situations with an outside agency.
So the blog is officialy shut down, but do not fear for lack of a Blog, the official Looking for Work Blog's link will soon appear on the index if you should be so inclined for further amusment.
"The Blog is Dead...LONG LIVE THE BLOG."
Editors Note: The Official Looking for Work Blog will start right after the Threat Therapy Journal is completed next week. The Journal is located on a different server at our sister site,
thisisnotathreat.com.
We can link to them, but they are not allow to link to us.
Weekly Recap for July, 31 thru Aug 03, 2006. As told from a Thursday's perspective.
Wednesday I paid myself and took off four hours early again, (did it last week too). I'm killin my vacation hours. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Perhaps there is a layoff lurking.
I drafted up a large bomb Mon, (or was it Tues.) night after work.
I'll be posting it on our sister site, thisisnotathreat.com in a week or two, gotta see what my therapist says first. This little nugget is downright fissionable and somebody's gonna get radiation burns.
Finally dumped the contaminated parmesan media from the number 4 roto-finisher Monday. Two fuckin drums of it right into the non-hazardous materials dumpster in the parking lot next to the nitrogen and ammonia tanks.
Adeus.
"Many of our core items are made fresh. Our chicken, eggplant and veal parmesan are all made fresh daily. Our lasagna is made fresh every day. We take great pride in making everything fresh."
July, 27 2006
The Asswipe Asshole Supervisor catches me coming in from outside yesterday. Havin' a smoke with Niekro I was. The son of a bitch didn't see me smokin but he might as well have. Second verbal warning, I'm quittin (smoking) anyway. Target Date: 06Aug07 (Check this day in history.)
Gemini White of the Undead, (formerly known as The White Night Stalker) Got a taste of the sweeping and mopping regiment, he ran out of orders for the powdered metal donut presses. But now for a little something more interesting.
The New Man from Uncle may not appear to be his pudgy Tom Bosley self. We spoke in passing this morning. The man is definately of Middle eastern descent. A straight up little Arab. And this guy is rebuilding the new sinter oven? The oven that we fill with hydrogen? I'm not really wanting to be there when they crank that thing up anyway, regardless if the oven tech is part of a terrorist suicide sleeper cell. I don't like being around that oven period.
I'ts always a three day weekend out here. Later Comrades.
"Alles klar mit der neutron bomb." German Folk Saying
July, 25 2006
The New Man from Uncle finally came back to work on the sinter oven. The little Tom Bosely lookalike and his helper Redneck Rampage got quite the treatment again from Devil Dog 6 (formerly known as, Red on the Head like a Dick on a Dog Day Afternoon). No pepperoni orders, not enough other toppings to keep the Roto-Finishers and abraders busy for more than 4 hours. I'm getting so sick of cleaning the floors and machines, I'd find a spot and chill. The best place is up against the wall behind the abraders next to the bay doors, line of sight to the corner mirrors so I can see the Asshole Supervisor, lest he see me.
At least there was a little work generated by the sinter oven fiasco. All the ceramic oven bricks had to be cleared out. The fuckin Man from Uncle and Redneck Rampage need their space to work. It's ok though, kept me busy for about an hour and a half and two pallets.
No matter how you slice it, it was a long 10 hours today. Hell, I left 6 hours early yesterday (monday)for lack of work, but I don't have enough vacation hours to keep payin myself. Works been slow since before my suspension.
Perhaps a layoff? Or perhaps they are just waiting for the opportunity to fire me so they won't have to pay the unemployment I would get from a layoff.
Hopefully I'm just paranoid and things will pick up, especially when they get the new sinter oven back up.
A paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on.
William S. Burroughs
July, 20 2006
Not much happening of interest last week or the past couple of days.
But today is another story.
There's an uneasy truce between my supervisor the Asshole, and myself. He likes to insult, well he better be prepared for a snappy comeback. He didn't used to like it when I'd strike back, (especially at the lunch truck, it's all in the Four Month War Archival)
But today almost got ugly. Vance the Niekro replaced the scrap bin (tare 242) with a new one. This new bin had a very old and dead rabbit plastered to the bottom of it. I wondered aloud why my Asshole Supervisor didn't finish his lunch. Of course he hears this, get a load of his reply, "That's your wife".
Ok to talk about me but I can't let just anyone talk like that about my wife and I don't give a fuck who you are, but
I didn't say anything to him. I'm giving him two more times to say something derogatory about my wife before I lay in on his entire family, including his wife .
And if it bothers him,
well,
I was looking for a job when I found this one. (In addition, I probably wouldn't mind maintaining a less adversarial workblog either)
Well it didn't get to that, After last break he was giving me some "helpful" harrassment with the Parmesan Roto-finisher when out of the blue, he apologizes for makin' the crack about my wife.
I couldn't fuckin' believe it.
And he even apologized again, two or three sentences later.
Fuckin' Amazing.
I am impressed that he is indeed human, but as an immediate supervisor, he's still far more of an asshole than I would care to work for.
And I say that with all due respect
"I HUMAN, I ASSHOLE"
Hey Arabs, Jews, STOP YOUR FUCKIN' BULLSHIT WITH THE ROCKETS AND BOMBS OVER THERE.
July 05-06, 2006
These two days have been awesome, The Bastard Asshole Supervisor, Mr Smelly Sasquatch has taken two days vacation. Peace and quiet envelopes me, (if you don't count the pounding of the pepperoni press I operate). I only punched 25,000 over the last two days. And with my new prescription safety glasses, I don't stamp the numbers too deep and risk pulverizing another compound. I dont talk to his partner the Flaming Claven about anything anymore either as he's got a big round mouth, and uses it to please the Big Mole.
Before the Asshole left, he tells me that all I'll be in charge of while he's gone is "sweeping and mopping."
Fuck him.
My co-worker, Richard Ramierez look-a-like Night Stalker let his coolant tanks overflow, I gave him a modicum of shit over it.
GOT COOLANT?
I had to re-mop a section near the new sinter oven because Red Devil Dog 6 was scared that the New Man from Uncle might slip and fall on the coolant slick that seeped out overnight.
This new overpaid tech looks more like a chubby little zombie vampyre and the dead ringer for Richie Cunningham's dad.
A two day work week.
And now on to my three day weekend
Four tens is the shit.
Peace in the Pacific Northwest.
No date
It's time to start talking about the fucking hydrogen bomb I work at. Let me explain. We make our own hydrogen out of ammonia, and there is some kind of nitrogen process involved, I'm not really sure, but all I know is that if there is a leak, and it is somehow ignited, we will all go quick, and so will the city I live in, supposedly, I'm not a fucking scientist here. Or am I?
The Facility is giving everyone Monday off, (with pay) along with the 4th, (for all my global readers, the fourth of July is when the United States fought for it's freedom from the British Tea-Baggers). Perhaps that will give the immediate enviornment time enough to soak up the surplus Pb puree.
Aquaman ran by my area today, I often wonder how long he stays in his isolation pool before he is called into action.
The Old Man from Uncle parks his jag right next to the hydrogen bomb. The company is paying this fucker 800 dollars a day, plus expenses, to get the new sinter oven up and running. I'm pretty sure the thing won't blow up while he's here. He would'nt park his jag right next to the tanks otherwise.
Hasta.
June 20 through 29, 2006. The last two weeks.
On the first day back from my three week absence, (suspension)
only three or four people came up to me and said, "glad to see you back." All the rest of my immediate co-workers acted like I was invisible. They're all so much better than me anyway.
I could've been fired, but for some reason I was allowed to come back to work, oh yeah, I've got to attend counselling at 35 bucks a session, I'll know just how many sessions after the first one and according to the paperwork, they have me slated for 11 weeks, and to top it off I'm on ultra super strict probation for two years to upholding the highest employee standards. I must really love this job. Past employees just quit. My friends at work wondered why I just didn't quit.
This week the wildfires did not reach our plant. The nitrogen and hydrogen tanks would've made quite an explosion.
We all still have jobs.
Aquaman finally spoke to me yesterday, a hot job of Pb 82 mushroom parts (atomic mass 207.2)needed to be pushed through to final inspection, customer order. I was the only person that could get it done.
Aquaman hasn't spoken since then, (fuck that albino) but the walrus did hand me the dispatch sheets.
The Giant Mole reamed me out over an order that a customer returned while I was "on vacation", (what happened to final inspection, arent they the last line of defense?) I've ordered some prescription safety glasses because of this. It won't happen again.
The asshole is still his jolly old self, insulting me whenever he gets the chance. And being on this fucking probation, I can't let him get the better of me lest I be charged with insubordination, and that would be it.
