Mushi's Thoughts

Why am I still at YSC? Why do I continue to work under these conditions?

1. Everywhere you work, there’s something crack-headed going on. People are stupid.
2. I need the income, especially with the tax bill/new mortgage application that’s about to happen.
3. I hate the idea of walking out when this job could be perfect.
4. I hate what it would do to my resume.
5. I hate admitting defeat.

Why do I want to go?

1. I complain a lot about YSC. Mostly, I’m just letting off steam so I can think straight. However, the same rants keep coming up over and over, and my efforts to make people understand the problems and fix them just aren’t working. Nobody’s listening.
2. I enjoy a challenge. I enjoy problem solving. Fixing problems bourne of others’ stupidity while having the basic tools to do my job removed from my control is not fun. It is not enjoyable. It’s non-productive, and a simple waste of time – if you think things through BEFORE implementing them, these problems should never crop up.
3. Lastly, surprisingly, I’m under-used. There’s so much bullshit in the form of fighting bad process and stupid tools that I can’t actually WRITE and as a result, I spend a lot of my time with my thumb up my ass and shrugging my shoulders. (Followed by a panic when somebody finally FIXES something and I have to make up a week’s work in a day or so.) YSC, and I, would probably be MUCH happier with a contractor in this position. More importantly, my boss should be fired.

Yay!

I couldn’t find any griffins I like, so I got griffin paw prints – two lion prints and two eagle prints. Tony at No Regrets did a fabulous job helping me mock up the design, converting parts of the prints to spirals. The tattoo is done in a red henna color – I love it. I look in the mirror and I see the front paw prints, and it makes me giggle.

Tony was so cool he even posed for tattoo pics with Barb’s Build-A-Bear. He was way cool. Gallery shots here.

Troll – the green, hairy, ugly kind, not the Usenet kind

There is a tiny man that no one can see under my desk. He is not trying to eat the billy goats gruff; he is attempting to pull my leg off at the hip without anyone noticing. I am popping ibuprofen and ignoring him. I fear that I may go in search of a machete soon, just so that I can hand him the leg and get it over with.