People who don’t pay attention when they drive suck. They just do. When I go to teach my night classes during the week I drive down a street that has an island between the east- and west-bound lanes. Thus to turn left at this intersection, I have to go through two lights the one on the E/W street, and another on the N/S street. People line up on the N/S street to make their left turns, and since Dallas drivers are notoriously pushy, many of us will squeeze our cars at the end of this line between the east aand west lanes, risking having our tails out in the middle of traffic. Those people I don’t often get mad at, because, well, I do that too, sometimes. I have squeezed into line, inching very close to the car in front of me, and the lanes passing behind me had a breath of room, which, apparently, was enough.
The people I get mad at are the assholes already in that line who allow an entire car’s length between themselves and the car in front of them, while the rest of us are lining up out in the street. When this car-length space occurs, some other asshole decides his duallie fits at the end of that line, and not only can I not turn left, the entire lane behind me can’t move. They think I’m the idiot and honk at me. We all miss an entire light because of that car length. I’m not going to hang out behind the duallie and put my entire car in the N/S lanes. That would be stupid. Like the guy driving the duallie.
What possesses those people to leave an entire car-length between them and the car in front of them??? While driving I often get cut in on because I leave a generous space between myself and the idiot on the cell phone in front of me, but when it comes to stopping, what purpose does that space serve? None. Is Harvey’s car there, invisible to everybody but them? Tonight while driving at home I was first in line at the stoplight, and there was no one in the lane to my right. There was a blank-staring woman about four yards behind my rear-view, but no one in front of her. Amazing.
I have finally been hired on full-time, and the salary discussion was a bitch. I am not getting paid even half what I am worth, but shit, it’s a job, it doesn’t involve tips, and there is a comfy chair and air conditioning. And insurance. The day I started, though, I was told to renovate their website.
OK. I was told that the paltry salary I was given was excessive, that I should count my lucky stars, etc., etc. (well, not in those exact words), because of the job that I was doing. I agree, someone with a high-school degree could very well do my job, it doesn’t require an MA in English, that’s cool. But then the very day I start they add to my job duties. Cheap bastards are getting a very good deal hiring a great web designer at an admin assistant’s pay. And what can I say right now, no? Because I love designing websites. I get lost, the day shoots by, and I go home satisfied. I have something to show to the world. “Look what I did” is a part of it, as anyone in the world can see my work, and when I do something awesome, I can show off. 😀
I didn’t say anything, because I can put it on my portfolio and I still get insurance, and I enjoy it, but Jesus Christ. After I redesign it, guess what…there’s no web design work left to do. So I am still an admin assistant, at an admin assistant’s pay. That’s what I get for opening my fat mouth. ANyway, their website was an eyesore, and I fixed it, and it’s beautiful now. Not exactly fully functional yet, but far better looking tonight than it was last week. I guess when you compare my work to the work of a 10-year-old (no shit, their last website was designed by a child, and looked like it) then I rock, and I can leverage that production for a raise/position change in the future. But for now I am doing both, and knowing that tits are such a liability.
Change of subject, eh? That’s because I realized today that there are no women in power in this company. Not one. And I have noticed that they never ask a man to staple their damn papers, but in the middle of a project, I get a sheaf of papers dropped in front of me and I am asked to staple them. Like what I am doing isn’t important enough. Well, OK, maybe I can postpone the completion of my projects to staple a few papers, but it’s so cavalier. Like the way the owner came into the office the other day and asked me if I had $200 he could borrow. Yeah. Millionaire man borrowing money from me. I guess he thought it was funny, coz he laughed. Then he sent me in the drizzle to get it for him. I don’t know what it was for, and it doesn’t matter. I hate being a peon and getting peed on.