It has been brought to my attention that I am the most important person in my office. A VIP, if you will. I have skills that no one else possesses and these skills cannot be taught. My innate abilities, or rather the idea of no longer having access to them, make supervisors tremble. I am the Great and Powerful OZ!
The story: For the last several months, I've been working 10:30 to 7 four days a week. Not ideal, right? There are some perks: I miss most of the traffic, I get to sleep in (except Thursdays), and, and, I guess that's about it. In any event, on Monday I was told that I was getting a welcome sked change; 9-5:30. Sure, the traffic is a bit heavier in the AM and I don't get to sleep as late, but I also get home a bit after 6 instead of at 7:30. It would be nice to be able to make plans on any given night of the week - plans that start before 8 pm.
I had two days of pseudo-normality. However, when I got in today, promptly at 9, my supervisor walked up to me and said, "You're not going to like what I have to say." Evidently, she got some flak for changing my schedule. She was told that I have certain duties in the evenings. So wow! Who knew doing voicemail retrievals was such a complex endeavor? I wasn't aware that all the other people in my office were complete morons and unable to master the basic functions of phone usage. I don't even fucking bill for the time I spend doing VM. I would love to tell my client about all the other duties I perform while on their dime.
Yes, it's nice knowing that people at work find me competent, but honestly, the work is NOT difficult. It's hard to feel indispensable when a chimp, with minimal training, could do a passable job of it. Here's hoping that the Inquirer's Mega Job section will have something for me. My dad is right (dammit!), I should add this to the list of incentives to find a new job.
No comments:
Post a Comment