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Last year: I gave up on the tree. |
As much as I enjoy my actual work, I am not exactly happy with the corporate environment. I got another sample of corporate love yesterday in the form of an e-mail from our office's head manager, reminding us that we're not supposed to use our computers for anything other than our work. In particular, he said, they were monitoring our browser usage and were finding that people were using their internet connections to listen to the radio and check sports pages, along with other sites that were, and I quote, "completely unprofessional." It reminded us that our time was the company's time, and asked us (rhetorically) what we would do if our employees were using the company's resources to surf the web.
I wanted to shriek at the patronizing tone. Then I wanted to actually answer the letter. I went so far as to print it out and hand-write my immediate response on the bottom and tape it to our office door. Later, after an attack of sanity (I don't, after all, have another job yet) I moved it to the back of the office door so only a priveleged few could see it.
But this morning I find I'm still infuriated by the whole thing. I could understand banning radio sites - they eat up an enormous amount of bandwidth. But simple surfing?
Look. Ninety-five percent of the people employed here are salaried. What that should mean is that we get paid the same no matter how many hours we work. Unfortunately, what it really means is that we get paid the same no matter how many hours of overtime we work. If I work for twelve hours in a day, I get paid for eight. But if I can get my job done in five hours... I still have to be in the office for eight.
In my mind, that's not the way salary should work. In my mind, being able to go home early should be one of the incentives to do a good job right the first time. And if a manager wants to get the most out of their employees (as of course they do) and they have an employee who's consistently doing their work quickly and going home early, then they should give that person more work - and a raise to prove their value. And if there's an employee who constantly has to work late hours to finish their jobs on time, then that's the employee's problem, isn't it? Unless they're not finishing on time, in which case they should probably be looking for another job.
But that's a different rant. My point is: we're going to be here until we get the job done. We understand what deadlines are, and we do our best to finish our jobs before the deadline. Many of us finish - and finish consistently - with a lot of time to spare. If you're not going to let us go home, the least you can do is let us amuse ourselves.
It's not like our internet service charges us per page loaded. (If it does, we need a new internet service.) It's not like deadlines aren't being met. It's not like we wouldn't find other ways of wasting time without using our browsers or even our computers. I can't tell you how many hours every day are dropped into the black hole of idle conversation in my office alone. My officemate and my supervisor each take at least an hour a day in smoke breaks between them. Why can't I surf the internet while they're out back inhaling tobacco fumes?
We're going to take breaks from our work one way or another. You can't stop it. Even if you forbade us to talk to each other, we'd sit and stare blankly into space. If work isn't being done on time, then that's something worth complaining about. But even if a person wasn't getting their work done on time because of their internet usage, I wouldn't restrict them from using it. I'd meet with them personally, suggest perhaps they spend a little more time on their work, and let them know that they aren't working to expectations. And then, if they still don't meet their deadlines: fire them.
It boils down to something I demand in a job - something the corporate environment refuses to give me: respect. They're so desperate to glean every tiny bit of effort from me that it never occurs to them that I might be more productive if I felt like I were a respected member of the community, rather than a mere cog in a machine. The corporation doesn't trust me enough to let me do my work in my own way, at my own time. It doesn't believe I can write programs if I'm dressed comfortably, sleeping late, or at home. And it certainly doesn't respect my abilities enough to pay decently or let me manage my own time.
This past weekend, I joked with Matt's grandfather: "You know that cartoon Dilbert? That's my office." It's not funny anymore.
Tonight is the office Christmas party, a patently absurd attempt on their part to build a sense of community. Except, of course, we have to pay for it. ($10 per couple, $6 per individual.) And of course, they didn't care enough to remember that it's impossible to book space and a caterer for a weekend after August in this town, so we're having it on a Thursday night. The invitation, laughably, says the party will last until 1:30 in the morning. Is the office closed tomorrow? Nope.
Of course, I'm not going to work tomorrow, because I'm having that surgery on my foot. (No entry tomorrow because of that, by the way. Unless I'm feeling especially babble-y when I get home.) If I thought our &qout;hosts" would have to stay until we all went home, I'd be tempted to wait until 1:30, just so that next year, they'll remember to make arrangements in advance. But they'll leave when they want to leave. I bet the place is deserted by 10.
Bad attitude?
Damn straight.
(The hell of it is, it's the only Christmas party I'll get to go to this year, and I really want to enjoy it. But it's time to start looking over the classifieds...)
On a more cheerful note, I actually had a productive evening. I found the last thing I wanted to get my brother and his wife on sale, and the store will even ship it for me. Then I went to the bookstore, where I found three things from my mother-in-law's list, so I got to pick and choose. While I was there, I saw a book that looked wonderfully fascinating and that, incidentally, I thought Kris would like. Then I went to Target, where I managed to get stocking stuffers for the five stockings I'm putting together, and I even managed to stay under budget! (Stocking budget is about $15 per stocking, in case you're wondering.)
Then I went home and ate dinner, then helped Matt get ready for basketball. (The refs won't let him play with his hair in just a ponytail - they say it's too long. So I have to braid it and then double the braid over and pin it close to his head. It looks stupid, but at least he doesn't have to cut his hair short.) While Matt was gone, I wrapped presents and packed boxes to be mailed. By the time Matt came home, I had packages ready to go out for my brother and his wife, Matt's mom, and Karen.
That only leaves Matt's dad - whose gift hasn't been delivered yet - and our grandparents - who are getting cookies that will be made on Sunday - left on the mailing list. (Well, we need to order something for his brother and sister, too, but we'll be having those presents shipped directly to Matt's mom.)
The only bad thing about that is that despite an hour and a half of wrapping and taping and wrapping and printing labels and wrapping some more... There's no more presents under the tree. Fewer, even, since I retrieved the one of Karen's presents that was under there to put in its box. But my little checklist is looking quite happy!
Word of the Day: glean - to gather grain with reapers; to collect little by little or with patient effort
- The Mountain of Black Glass by Tad Williams
- The Sea Hawk by Rafael Sabatini
Current Projects:
- Christmas wrapping
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