January 26, 2006

No words.

SON OF A… All right, I think I’m going to be sent back to sensitivity class again. Not that I’ve done anything yet even remotely to get a talking to, let alone sent to sensitivity class. Nope, but by the end of the month I may just explode in a ball of anger that would rival Hiroshima.

Some of you may remember reading my post about how I suck am not good at my job, according to some people. They wanted me to use these other people’s reports to track data, because it was so much better then mine. Then last Friday I went off on how I was instructed to use these reports and I thought there might be a change.

I wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the change I was expecting.

I reverted to using my system for information on Monday; everything seemed to be going better. That was until today. As soon as our morning state of the office meeting started one of the Assistant Managers announced that my counterpart from the other office came up with a great new report. It’s so great it is going to change drastically how both offices are going to be able to track data.

I was skeptical. My counterpart hasn’t had a good, original idea since she got her position. Sitting back, I was waiting to see what she had created or at least what new method she was using to retrieve data. Sitting back in my chair, bracing myself, I waited for her to start. She was nervous and barely made eye contact with anyone. She wasn’t used to being in the spotlight in these meetings, so this wasn’t unusual. She started:

“This report will allow us to track volumes. We will be able to track over all volumes, aging, how many items we lost cycle on and how many we will lose if we don’t close it today. It will also show us how many inquiries we handled on the same day we received them.”

Okay, my interest is piqued. This is sounding good, I have a report that does all that, but it’s a little labor intensive. If she’s found a faster, better way to do it, YAY ME! Anything to make my job better or easier I will gladly embrace.

Imagine the surprise on my face when she unveils her “new” report and it is the report I created and have used for 3 years. Now imagine, if you will, not only a look of shock, but also my complete and utter inability to speak a word. My counterpart is getting praise and applause, FOR MY FARKING REPORT! Then the other offices assistant manager put match to fuse. She said, “Contagion, what do you think of this report? Will you start using it right away?”

Slowly and deliberately, I pushed my chair back from the table.

Slowly I stood up, head down looking at my stack of paper work, with this “new” report right on top. Leaning on the table with clenched fists, knuckles white and veins throbbing, I look up. Making eye contact with first my counterpart, who diverted her look, and then the assistant manger, I quietly, very quietly, say, “I think this is a great report, it has its issues, but it is better then anything else that is available. The person, who created this, in my opinion, should be congratulated on all the hard work and effort to create such a report…” The assistant manager is smiling. “Will I start using this report? No. No, I will not START using this report. I can’t, it’s not possible. To start using it would mean that I’d have to stop using it again. See, I’ve been using this report, in one form or another, for three years now. I created this report 3 years ago. I’ve been bringing it to this meeting every day, except when you told me to stop a couple of weeks ago because it wasn’t good enough.”

“Now, today, when you think someone else created it, it is a good report? I’m not saying that my counterpart stole this report; you can’t steal something that was given to you. I am not even saying she is taking false credit for creating it, I honestly think you just assumed she did. Now I will blame her for not saying she didn’t create it. Right now, I think it is in my best interest if I excuse myself from this meeting.”

At that point, I grabbed my reports and left the room. I was so pissed that I didn’t raise my voice once. There was no yelling, no screaming, no swearing, I was calm and collected. I went back to my desk and sat staring at my monitor for a while. My hands where shaking in a rage… yes, a rage… so badly I couldn’t type.

I’m curious what is going to become of this, because now all the management in the office knows exactly what’s going on.

Posted by Contagion in Tales from the Work Place at January 26, 2006 12:39 PM | TrackBack

Oh, rage, I can feel it way out here! But, I think you handled it well and well enough not to be sent to sensitivity class! Sorry, hope it all gets better soon.

Posted by: ODDYBOBO at January 26, 2006 10:58 AM

Deep breaths, okay?

Posted by: Omnibus Driver at January 26, 2006 11:00 AM

Dude, that sucks. Glad you kept your cool. This should turn out interesting...

Posted by: Sarah at January 26, 2006 11:19 AM

I'm looking north for the mushroom cloud. Don't blame you one bit for being enraged.

Posted by: Raging Mom at January 26, 2006 11:47 AM

Frick'n A!!!! You handled it very well. I hope the outcome is handled as well. I still can't believe it. With you sitting in the room.

Posted by: vw bug at January 26, 2006 12:04 PM

I knew what was coming because I am very familiar with it.

I think you handled it with lots of class, better than most people would have.

I congratulate you for creating such fine reports that others want to take credit for it.

Posted by: Machelle at January 26, 2006 01:44 PM

I congratulate you for not choking the shit out of her in front of everyone.

So what happened after?

Posted by: caltechgirl at January 26, 2006 02:03 PM

Hold on, I'm headed outside to point the video camera north (from behind a lead shield, of course)...

Posted by: Ogre at January 26, 2006 02:25 PM

Dude, you are to be commended. You handled it very well. Too well. To keep this stuff inside is bad and may require the ingestion of Guinness or another dark brew...

Posted by: That 1 Guy at January 26, 2006 02:59 PM

You handled the situation perfectly! Now, deep breaths and Dark beer. That's the ticket....

Posted by: Richmond at January 26, 2006 04:05 PM

I've oh so been there. I feel for you. I ended up having to leave the job and find a new one... I got to the point I felt certain I would be unable to control myself. And given my past issues with anger, it was just best for me to do something different as this person was protected by management. Best thing I ever did. To this day I hope that son of a bitch rots in hell. To this day.

Posted by: Bou at January 26, 2006 04:26 PM

Gee, Bou, grudge much?

Posted by: caltechgirl at January 26, 2006 06:48 PM

UnFlippin' Believable. I'm pissed for you.

I'm sorry. You don't deserve this. Not one bit. And they are WRONG in the way they are treating you.

I know I'm not saying anything you don't already know but I have to say it. You are my friend. I know you - and this is wrong wrong wrong wrong.

That's it. That's all I got. Anything else would be.....well, not very pretty.

Posted by: Tammi at January 26, 2006 07:02 PM

Your restraint is to be commended. If this had been me rather than you, sensitivity training wouldn't be an issue because there wouldn't be anyone left alive to train me. Want some of my very smooth and very old Scotch?

Posted by: MathCog Idiocy at January 26, 2006 07:32 PM

You handled this soooo much better than I could have. I apparently have an issue with keeping the venom out of my voice when I'm angry and speaking.

Posted by: ktreva at January 26, 2006 08:21 PM

Dude, what every one said!

I have a really nice voodoo doll that would be perfect for your desk. All you need to do is place a yellow post it on it's hand with this Witch's name and stick lots of little needles into it. If you stick yourself with one simply smear your blood on the doll.

It doesn't do much in reality but not only will it keep them guessing, it will make them a bit wary of you and will help them watch their step.

Posted by: Michele at January 26, 2006 10:49 PM

I disagree.

Kill them.

Kill them all. Use this as an excuse to buy a hotsaw.

Stack their severed heads in a pile as a warning to all others who would steal your hard work. Festoon your department with their entrails.

You know you want to.

Posted by: Graumagus at January 28, 2006 02:07 PM