Forced writing, vol. 745

Over the last few weeks, I’ve actually been in an okay rhythm of writing.  Between my new job having yet to really pick up steam, leading me to have some occasional downtime, trying to get #2 onto a modicum of a sleep schedule, and the fact that there have actually been numerous things that have piqued my interest to write about, I’ve actually felt satisfied with how much brogging I’ve been able to accomplish lately.

At this very moment however, I’m in a position where I wish to continue to ride such momentum and keep on writing, however my motivation to write is basically nonexistent today.  It’s not for lack of things that I know I could brog about, from the Royal Rumble, a Bengals vs. Rams Super Bowl, Tom Brady’s retirement, or the spoiled surprise of the Washington Redskins Commanders new team name.  Or social commentary about how despite the threat of coronavirus being no lower now than it was two years ago, people are going out and about all the time, and other sicknesses are spreading like wildfires, leading to situations like earlier this week where I had to go two straight days without a nanny, while on the clock, wrangling two kids.

No, I don’t much feel like writing right now.  And I hate to make it seem like I’m never not in a bad place, but right now I’m not in a particularly good place.  However, I’ve said it several times in the past, it’s times like this when I don’t feel like writing, is exactly when I should be writing, even if I am forcing it.  I have the capacity to do so, and short of dicking around on YouTube or doing surveys on my phone, there’s still no better way to spend available time than writing for me.

I just received confirmation from the vet that my dog is very much not a good candidate for surgery, due to the development and spread of cancer in his little body, and at (roughly) 16 years old, it’s probably best to just do whatever necessary to make his life comfortable, but for all intents and purposes, dog has cancer, who knows how much longer there’s left, but it’s probably not much.

I’ve touched on it before, but #2 has been regressing hard in terms of sleep, in spite of the training we’ve been trying to implement.  For the most part, both of my kids have been polar opposites of each other when it comes to sleeping, and for how great my oldest sleeps, #2 is an absolute nightmare when it comes to the topic of sleep.  Over the last few days, she’s been waking up multiple times in the night screaming bloody murder, and nothing short of plowing her with bottle after bottle seems to be capable of bringing her back down and getting her to sleep.  For another 54 minutes, before it all seems to repeat itself.

Mythical wife and I have been basically getting no more than an hour of sleep at a time before it repeats itself, and it might be just fatigue rate, but seriously, this shit is ruining my life right now.  I loathed teething and sleep regressions from my first go-around, but there’s nothing saying we’re not hitting both at the same time with #2, but it absolutely sucks balls, and I can’t even look forward to going to bed anymore, because of the expectation that shit will repeatedly hit the fan while asleep.

So when baby isn’t sleeping, parents aren’t sleeping, and we’re miserable and ornery and exhausted, more so than when she was a tiny newborn.  And this impacts my work life, which is actually now important now that I’m a new guy in a new place, and it’s critical that I make positive first impressions of how hardworking and reliable I am, but I haven’t really been able to, because of kid duties, and I’m concerned about having those that hired me think they got a dud, instead of the stud I know I’m capable of being when I’m normal, engaged and not distracted.

Of course, this, like most soul-sucking, sanity-testing tribulations of parenthood, will pass, but it’s just a matter of when.  It feels like a speedbump that never will end, and it’s so, so hard on a daily basis to operate in the routine I’m in.  It’s a waiting game with no definitive expected target date in sight, and frankly that’s feeling like the case with anything and everything these days.  From small shit like waiting for an email response from customer service, to waiting on some merchandise I’m interesting to drop when they said it was going to drop, to bigger things like the aforementioned wait for my daughter to get her sleep shit together so that my household can actually get some rest and improve the quality of our lives.

I am, not in a very good place right now.  I’m trying my best to keep my head above water, and trying to find happiness and small wins in the little things, like the explosion of growth and development from my first child, and the general daytime happiness and smiles from #2 at any other time outside of the night when she should be sleeping.  But when it comes to the big picture, there are a lot of things that are bogging me down, and I hope that the strings cut and they fall off sooner rather than later, because I’m just so over so much, and I need, just a little bit of time to catch my breath and not feel like I’m so underwater all the time.

I don’t want to be an emotional vampire

Since starting my new job, things haven’t been easy.  I was provided the wrong laptop from the very start, which inhibited my ability to do the core of my work functions from the onset.  My household also (likely) contracted the ‘Rona, which I’ve already said my piece about multiple times already, but I didn’t want to bring that up just when I was starting my new job, fortunately everything’s been remote still to this point.

Then, there was the bullet I realized that I had avoided from the old job with numerous of my former colleagues and reports getting axed that fucked my head up, because I’ve come to the realization that my shitty old boss knew this was coming and had been planning for this for a while, and I just so happened to have gotten out before the hammer fell, but it doesn’t change the fact that I have survivor’s guilt as well as feel like some of my old reports are accusing me of knowing it was coming and not telling them, which couldn’t be any further from the truth.

More recently, I’ve found out that my dog has cancer, and until I get an ultrasound, won’t really know the full extent of what we’re dealing with, but given the fact that he’s like 16 years old, things aren’t looking too optimistic right now.

All while my second child is still a living nightmare when it comes to sleeping, as it’s feeling nigh impossible to put her down for naps while I’m on the clock at work, and I can’t expect my nanny to handle the two under two remotely competently without compromising the care on one of them.

Needless to say, things have been pretty rough on my side, while I’m on the clock, but the difference now is that I’m the new guy at a job I’ve just started, versus being the guy on his way out of a job I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of.  My flakiness now, I give a shit about, and feel like shit that I’m being flaky, because my head’s not on straight because of all the bullshit going on and/or my youngest being a gargantuan cockblock for my ability to work, because there’s no way I can concentrate on work when she’s screaming bloody murder instead of taking a fucking nap.

My new boss is chill, and probably would be understanding to some of the shit I’m going through, seeing as she has children and dogs, and clearly isn’t the micromanager that has it out for me in the first place.  But at the same time, I don’t want to unload all this baggage when I haven’t even completed my first month with the company.

Although I’m sure I would be okay and probably get some leniency and empathy, I just don’t want to be like the emotional vampire from What We Do In the Shadows, the girl who was Colin Robinson’s office rival-then-fling, who always had some unfortunate shit happening to her, so she could siphon off the emotional energy of all the people in the office.  Because that’s what I feel like I would be, if I would make too much of my bullshit known, and I don’t want to give that off, when I’m still in the stage where I’m still making first impressions everywhere I go.

But it really does suck just how inhibited I am sometimes while I’m on the clock, because I really do want to hit the ground running and do better than I feel I’m doing now.  Ironically, as much as I don’t want to go back in to the office, I feel like my productivity has a ceiling while I’m at home, and if I really want to shine at new job, I think I’m going to eventually have to embrace the need to go back.

What I feared might happen, happened

I’m sad.  One of my former reports from my old job texted me to let me know that they, and numerous other members of my old newsprint team from my old job were all being laid off.

This is something that I figured could eventually show up on the table, but seeing as how over the last six years I was there, I never saw, or heard of anywhere in the company that did any sort of laying off, I didn’t think that it would actually happen.

It’s funny, when I had planned on leaving the company, my ego and I had hoped that it would get a modicum of respect and acknowledgment.  I’m not saying I was ever the most important cog in the machine that was my team, but I did design the work process that kept us afloat throughout the transition into the Ford Pinto of software we were forced to use.  However, when I had announced my notice of resignation, we were already in the first week of a two-week notice from one of my production counterparts, and unbeknownst to me, my other production counterpart was a week away from announcing their two-week notice.

Suddenly, I was the Stephanie Tanner middle child of resignations, doomed to be unnoticed, and worse off, I begun feeling concerned that this power vacuum that was forming due to the departure of 3 out of 4 managers on the team was going to no longer put the team in a defensive mode until they could staff back up, but now put them at risk of being potentially liquidated, and the work outsourced.

Ever since the pandemic rose and my team specifically took some lumps throughout the last two years because the print medium isn’t as agile and adaptable as digital ones, there was concern throughout the team about the security of their jobs.  I had, honestly opined that I felt that everyone was safe, solely because of the ironic fact that we all had knowledge of the aforementioned Ford Pinto of graphic design software, so it’s not like any joe-schmoe could be hired off the street to do our jobs.  And for the last two years, in spite of how much of a pain in the ass it’s been, our team had navigated the bumpy waters of pandemic retail, and come out no worse for wear at the end of it.

But now, with the Great Resignation™ hitting our team specifically and creating such gaps in the team, I can’t say that I’m surprised to see that liquidation and outsourcing has begun.  The company as a whole clearly soured on the print medium, which was my impetus for starting to look for a new job, aside from the fact that I hated the fuck out of my boss, but none of it changed the fact that I still cared about my team and that all these talented designers all deserved better than they’ve been dealt.

I do feel a little bit of guilt that there is the possibility that my departure, along with the departure of the other managers made this happen, although I have no clue to whether or not this was always on the table in the first place regardless of if we were there or not.  But when the day is over, I still have to, and I did, put myself and my family above all else, and it turns out that I dodged an extremely close bullet.

It’s just that as an empathetic person, it kills me that people that I cared about are put in this unfortunate position.  The saving grace is that they still have nearly nine weeks notice, which gives them fairly sufficient time to begin looking for new jobs, and with the cards all out on the table, it’s not like anyone has to be discreet about it.  In fact, as long as they’re not insubordinate shitbags, all my old team that’s on the block doesn’t even really have to put up the front of being friendly or overly professional anymore, because the company is still going to rely on them to put out all the scheduled advertisements all the way up to Memorial Day.

And then they get a severance package, and fortunately the timing of it will still allow all of them to partake in the company’s semi-annual profit sharing bonuses which usually take place in March.

At this point, what I’m most curious about are the future statuses of other individuals on my old team, namely my old boss.  I don’t get the impression that they’re on the block like my old reports are, and I have this pessimistic suspicion that they probably didn’t fight very hard, nor are they remotely anything close to the type who would go down with the ship.  They have another channel under their umbrella, and I’ve long known that that one was their true passion, while my team was kind of the bastard they had to manage in order to have their role.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they in fact initiated this liquidation, because often said that their life would be peaches if they could get rid of newsprint, and could focus solely on catalog.  But these are things that I’ll never know, but the result of it all is still feeling terrible for a lot of talented designers who will soon be out of a job, and not help feeling a little bit guilty for helping push the boulder over the edge.  I don’t regret anything I’ve done in regards to seeking greener pastures before the shots were fired, but I’m still allowed to feel empathy for those I used to work with who were saddled by this unfortunate development.

How today should be versus how it is

Today is my last day with *Fortune 50 company redacted*.  I’ve been here for a hair under six years, and this is the longest job I’ve ever had.  As much of a stressor and source of frustration the job had turned into over the last two years, under normal circumstances today really should be a bittersweet one, because there are still a lot of good people there, I’ve made a lot of good relationships, as I close this chapter of my career.

Instead I’m just bitter, at all the life’s circumstances that are swirling around in play right now, and I’m having a very difficult time letting go of all this anger and frustration I’m feeling. It’s tarnishing absolutely everything around in my life right now, and I’m fully aware of it and how calm people always wax poetic about how it’s never good to hold onto anger, but I can’t help it because my entire household has been compromised by one fucking person who thinks vaccination means they can resume living life like it were 2018 again and going into crowds and picking up plagues to spread unto others.

I should be excited about my new job starting up soon, but I’m not.  I haven’t even worked a day, but I’m already dreading it, because my home is still fucked with COVID, and in spite of me originally thinking I may have been asymptomatic, I’m feeling shit in my throat that is saying otherwise and I’m 99% sure I too now have dropped off the list of the undefeated but I can’t know definitively because the America is too full of stupid fucks, the disease is everywhere and I can’t get tested because all sites are slammed to oblivion and and all home tests are sold out everywhere until like 2025.

Instead of embarking on my new career path full of optimism and hope eternal, it’ll more than likely be just like a day like today: me on double duty with my girls because we can’t bring in help because of COVID and mythical wife still having to go to work because the school system is more fucked up than Heaven’s Gate and they’re more than willing to turn a blind eye to someone with a very recent exposure as long as they don’t have to go get a substitute teacher.  So I’m quadruple stressed out because I probably have the ‘Rona, I’m still on the clock with my last day of work, I’m worried for my wife, and dealing with both kids.

All because one person brought the fucking plague into my home.

I should be coasting to the finish line and feeling melancholy as I bid adieu.  I should be excited about my new job coming up. 

I should be in good spirits.

But I’m not.  I’m angry, frustrated, disappointed and disgusted.  Brain full of bile, throat full of phlegm, feeling bitter and resentful and helpless because there’s absolutely jack shit that can really be done about any of this but wait it out.Have to power through orientation and day 1 of new job while putting up a facade that everything is fine.  Have to wait out 10-14 days to hope that this Omicron bullshit works its way through my house’s residents.  Have to eventually find somewhere to test or have to pay for fucking home tests if they can even be found.

Have to keep life in fucking hold stasis for even longer, because of the conduct of someone outside my home.

Today should be a good day.  But it’s fucking not.  I can get over me getting sick, but my wife and my innocent children getting sick, is inexcusable.  It’s not fucking fair, and this is anger that I will be incapable of letting go of, for a long time. 

Among the list of reasons why I’m leaving my job, continued

I didn’t really intend on doing another post about this, but I had an idea of an analogy in mind, but I never actually got to it, because when I get into the writing zone my fingers take over, and before I knew it, I had blathered on about stocks and I didn’t feel like making some bloated mega post about it and adding this into it when I could separate it and boost my post count instead.

There’s this film on Netflix I saw a while back, called The Platform.  I believe it was a Mexican film, but it was a rather good film, and I highly recommend it to anyone looking for something fresh and unique to rehashed American cinema and doesn’t mind reading subtitles or can understand Spanish.

The film is about this, for lack of a better term, prison, that is an indeterminate number of floors, where every single floor has two people occupying them.  In the center of every single floor is a big, square shaped hole.  Every single day, a large platform descends the hole, sequentially stopping on every single floor for like two minutes.  On the platform is a massive spread of a elaborate feast, and the people on the floors ravenously stuff their faces and eat what they can before the platform descends to the next level below.

Naturally, this means those at the top of the prison have the advantage of having the most available, and cream of the crop foods available to them, and as the platform sinks lower and lower into the prison, eventually runs out of food, leading to those in the lower levels to become violent and homicidal from hunger.

Spoiler alert, here’s the kicker: the amount of food on the platform could modestly feed every single person in the entire prison, if all the people could get on the same page and agree to only eat a set amount.  However, naturally that is an impossibility when you have so many different personalities, so it’s a system perfectly designed to ensure chaos is always maintained.

So, back to the analogy: at my job, every single department has a pool of money (the platform) in which employees typically get their seemingly given, annual 2.5% cost of living wage increase, at the very minimum.  There is a nominal amount more in the pool, for deserving employees to get a little bit than 2.5%, but for the most part, these pools are set so that pretty much everyone could get their, at the very least, their cost-of-living increase, because the world is always getting more expensive, and that 2.5% goes a long way with keeping up with society.

Over the last two years, I’ve received 1.68 and 2.2% wage increases, in spite of all the contributions I’ve made to my team.  I’m not trying to inflate my contributions to the team, but I did design the exact workflow and process that kept my entire fucking team afloat for the last three years, and steered the car steady despite it being a volatile and explosive Ford Pinto, so I think I would’ve at least, deserved my fucking 2.5%.

I’d like to blame my shitty bosses for these shitty raises, but to their credit, the problem is actually those within the prison that exist higher than all of us.  They’re basically wolfing down all of the food from the platform by giving themselves and their cliquey accomplices elevated raises, and by the time the platform gets down to my level, there’s barely anything left to give me, or my subordinates.

As shitty as my wage increases have been, I’ve had to go the last two years trying to explain to my reports why they’re now getting these sub-2% raises when they’ve all been getting 2.5%+ every year before the recent ones.

The difference is, in The Platform, floor assignments change randomly every single week, and pairs could be on floor 4 one week, and then be on floor 201 the next.  At my job, those who are at the bottom of the prison usually remain there, and short of some dignity-robbing ass-kissing and joining the cliques of the company, is usually impossible to get to a higher floor to where there might be some food left on the platform.

Aside from the shitty raises, my primary reason for leaving is simply the fact that I’ve identified that within my department exists something of an inner circle of people, to where pretty much every position of power within it, is occupied by someone in it, and those not in it, don’t seem to be able to climb the ladder.  I’ve watched people who came into the company at the same time or later than me, rocket past my position in the company, and it’s not difficult to see how, based on the people they fraternize with.

I actually tried to make a move within the department, during a re-org.  I identified a position under a boss I used to work under, and I thought it would be a good fit.  However, when I learned that the interviewing would be done by several people, among them being some inner circle people, I kind of knew that my chances were dust.

In essence, I should thank the experience, because it was upon getting that rejection did it dawn on me that I should probably consider that I should be the one who needed to leave the company.  The clarity gained has been invaluable, and fuck the stocks and the shitty raises, I have succeeded at getting the fuck out of a toxic environment, and hopefully the next chapter of my career will prove to be a successful upgrade.

Among the list of reasons why I’m leaving my job

As I wind down my tenure at *Fortune 50 company redacted* I’ve actually been feeling not nearly as sentimental as I thought I might.  The constant struggling of parenthood, living in the pandemic world where the exposure has actually succeeded at getting into my home, and the lack of general farewell tour that most long-time associates of my company get have put me in a position to where I’m burning down my candle very quietly and discreetly, while the rest of my team solders forward preparing for another year of likely tumult and aggravation.

It suits me fine though, because as I’m winding down my list of things I’m trying to accomplish before I leave, one of them was to resolve the matter of my company stock that I have.  I know very little about stocks, in spite of my general fascination with the culture from movies like Boiler Room and The Wolf of Wall Street, but I figured it would be a good idea to partake in the employee stock purchasing capabilities I was privy to once I was promoted into my managerial position. 

Additionally, employees in my position are awarded vesting shares on an annual basis, to which my understanding is kind of like a loaded gun to hold at your head that only pays out once you’ve been with the company for 24-36 months, with the maturation being full at 36, but still eligible for some payout at 24.  Seeing as how I’ve been with the company for a few years, I’ve received my cut of vesting shares, and since I’m on my way out, I wanted to see just how much I’d be able to cash out, and just how much I’ll be forfeiting.

Of course, this wouldn’t be a brog post if it wasn’t some tragic failure or example of irony, and there’s little better subject of a post than things fucking up in my life, and this is a prime example of it, and feeds to the general frustration and disenchantment and serves as a reminder at just why I’m leaving this job.

Continue reading “Among the list of reasons why I’m leaving my job”

A 2021 year-end post

Looking back at all my old posts on a near-daily basis through the On This Day plug-in I use, I realize that I’ve written a whole lot of year-end posts throughout the years, which makes me feel somewhat obligated to write one for this year as well.  Initially, my thought was “fuck, ain’t nobody got time for this shit,” but then I stopped to actually think about the year 2021 as a whole, and realized that making one, really shouldn’t be that difficult.

Seeing as how in my double dad duty life, I’m typically always in search of the path of least resistance, “shouldn’t be that difficult,” pleases me.

Although plenty of things happened both in my own little bubble, as well as the rest of the world, for me, the year really can be summed up pretty succinctly as a tale of two halves.  The first half of the year was spent preparing for the birth of #2, where my job made me miserable and was sucking the life out of me.  And then literally halfway through the year, #2 arrived, embarking on the second half of the year where my job still made me miserable, but it was compounded by the ever-living difficulty of parenting two under two with insufficient help.

All while the coronavirus pandemic that plagued most of 2020, still raged on throughout the entire 2021, regardless of how stupid, arrogant and ignorant the rest of the world seemed to become because we’re all a bunch of selfish fucks who can’t understand the importance of quarantine and distancing, and have to be out in public events and crowded restaurants.  Vaccinations came into fruition, and smart people got them, but it didn’t make everyone suddenly invincible, as much as it dulled the fatality capabilities of coronavirus.  But that was good enough for everyone, and I stopped pondering which was worse between the unvaccinated and the vaccinated who thought they were bulletproof.

On that description alone, it sounds like 2021 may have sucked, and I’d be the first to admit that I did have a tremendous amount of time with dark clouds over me and inside my head.  But none of it has any bearing for the love I have for my children, no matter how hard they’ve made my life in this current juncture, and no matter how much I bitch and write pissy brog posts, they are still my happiness and the greatest things to have happened to my life along with mythical wife.

This isn’t to say that the year was entirely a wash.  It’s just pretty easy to sum up in very broad strokes, that make it sound negative.  Aside from the birth of my second child, she brought baby luck into play, and despite thinking I wouldn’t ever see it in my lifetime, the Atlanta Braves won the World Series.  I mean if that isn’t the very embodiment of baby luck, I don’t know what was, the Braves had 88 wins and had no business making the playoffs, but they did, got hot, and rode the momentum all the way to the Commissioner’s Trophy.

I also got the NXT UK Tag Team replica blet, that I’ve been waiting to come into existence for three years.  That pleased me greatly and was a good way to wind down the year.

Oh, and the new job I secured with the year winding down.  A substantial raise, elevated job title, and for the inevitable future where I have to report back into an office, a shorter commute.  Plus, it gave me the long-awaited departure from my toxic current boss, and I can’t wait to get the fuck away from her.  That shit is really fantastic news too.

But because I’m a nerd that takes general notes on the happenings that interest me, the following things also occurred in 2021:

  • Baked potato worshippers basically tried to throw a coup and invade the Capitol in Washington DC in defiance of the failed 2020 election
  • I took a UX course to try and pivot my career path
  • Got vaccinated, had it kick my ass. Got a booster later in the year, which kicked my ass again
  • Tried the Dr. Now diet from My 600 Lb. Life of eating 1,200 calories a day; I lasted a week before throwing in the towel, but still lost 3.1 lbs.
  • The housing market in America went completely bonkers, and I capitalized on it by refinancing on my house to help ourselves financially
  • Alabama won its 52nd National Championship
  • Tom Brady won his 43rd Super Bowl; but first with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers
  • The Milwaukee Bucks, yes Milwaukee Bucks, won the NBA Finals
  • My upstairs HVAC died in the middle of summer and had to be replaced, causing a very uncomfortable week in August
  • And finally, speaking of deaths, notable passings in my world included: Hank Aaron, Larry King, Screech from Saved by the Bell, Jessica Walter, New Jack, Norm Macdonald, John Madden, Betty White, and most tragically, Sonny Chiba. 

But let’s not end this post talking about deaths.  As droll and depressing some of the tone of this post might’ve read, there is absolutely no reason for me to not be optimistic about 2022.  I have a new job that pays better and gets me away from the toxic situation that shit all over my 2021, and as my girls grow and develop, life should become a little simpler, and pave the way for me to get bits of my own life back, gradually, little by little.

Those things alone carry great weight, and as long as those things can progress positively, not even the dismal state of the world’s handling of coronavirus can drag me down.  And with that, I close the brog book on 2021, and hope for nothing but the best going into year 22 of fairly consistent brogging.