Angry Readhead

If I Ever Want To Return To The World Of Corporate Retail Somebody Stop Me Please

So it hasn't escaped me that if I want my dream of owning my own bookstore to come true, I may have to return to the workforce on some level.  Knowing what I'm good at, trained for, and what gives me joy, that would probably be in some sort of retail management capacity.  To that end, once I rid myself of the corporate noose that was sapping my will to do much of anything, I signed up for the fabulous folks at Monster to email me the appropriate job openings.  At that time, I didn't really feel like updating my resume, and posting it to their site, so I figured this was my best option.  Plus it keeps me in control, which is something most good managers want, or else they wouldn't manage.  Incidentally one of the reasons I left was the company wasn't really interested in letting me control much of anything, and god forbid I tried any sort of independent thought.  So after a very humorous false start, in which I was being emailed everything with the word manager in the title (nurse manager, project manager, and everything else I was utterly unqualified for), I actually began receiving jobs that made sense.  At least ones I was qualified for.  From these exciting jobs opportunities, I have learned several things: primarily PetCo is always looking for help, secondarily most companies look for help even if they don't have any specific openings, and thirdly corporate speak still makes my skin crawl. 

You see, when I first started working for the giant corporate behemoth, heretofore known as the ubiquitous B bookstore, it wasn't that corporate.  Unfortunately, it gradually became more and more corporate, culminating in the hiring of my late GM. Only known as such as it gives me great pleasure to think of him as dead in the career sense, not in the actual sense.  This is a rather congenial fellow, but the only thing he actually brings to the table managementwise, is an uncanny ability to translate normal language into corporate bullshit.  That is assuming that corporate doublespeak is actually a management skill.  It is not.  Which leads me to question why someone who obviously had no people skills, nor the ability to organize himself, nor the capability to motivate anyone to do anything they weren't otherwise inclined to do, was hired in the first place?  This is not to mention a complete unawareness of, or intentional disregard for, professional behavior.  The only reason he could have been hired was mastering the corporate language.  Any organization that would value this stupidity is not one that I would wish to be a member of.

So after I viewed a job posting for CVS, which included the phrases: "engaged store team", "build customer loyalty", and "leading by example, showing initiative, and a sense of urgency and being results driven", I realized I couldn't do it again.  I am left to wonder, what could one possibly be driven by if it isn't results?  And also left to state unequivocally, not a single company in America gives a shit if you are results driven.  Seriously, all they care about is that you produce results.  Can you produce results without being results driven?  Absolutely.  It's just that in those cases it tends to be the people under you busting their asses so the job gets done.  One may argue that that is not you producing the results, however, this is not a distinction that many companies care about.  They just want to know that they are getting the results, not that it much matters how. 

It's a delightful double edged sword that those in charge can also hold you accountable for their inability to do their jobs.  But that is a rant for another day, and one that I have already pretty much exhausted my ability to deliver.  But that's the great thing about me, I hate injustice.  I hate it most of all when it is enacted upon my person, but I imagine I am not alone in that respect.  I, however, have a very long memory, and an almost epic ability to hold a grudge.  But that is for another time.

Until that time is upon us, I leave you with some definitions from A Dictionary of Bullshit: A Lexicon of Corporate And Office-Speak, by Diane Law (it's a British bargain version so the quotes have a few extra q's and u's but the language is far more sarcastic than the American version so it's worth it):

business plan noun

a fantasy put forward in an attempt to hoodwink one's bank manager or a venture capitalist into signing a large, essentially blank cheque.

taking ownership verb

1. receiving something one has bought-taking delivery of a new car, for example.  2. buying into something; resigning yourself to the fact that there is a new paradigm at work and you'll be held accountable whether you give credence to the latest wave of management theory gibberish or not.

urgency, a sense of noun

1. a feeling that one is rushing to achieve something. 2. the impression that one is rushing to achieve something, all quick hand movements, earnest expressions, and bluster- the appearance demanded of workers that they should seem to care. 3. walking very rapidly around the office, in an attempt to convey one's importance.

Until I am able to realize my dream, I will instead read passages from this book and chortle loudly.  Granted that will not pay the bills, but at least it will keep me warm at night.

What I've Learned Since My Last Post

Many things, but not the least of which is:

No matter how enlightened your mother seems to be, when your gay uncle discusses men's online dating sites, she will have another drink.  And you thought your Easter was entertaining.  That was almost as good as when my Pepere (that's grandfather for all you non-French Canadian folks) declared that white people didn't get enough credit for the Civil Rights Movement.  I didn't of course offer that without white folks, the movement would've hardly been necessary.  That being said, for everything white people seem to need to take credit for, I think we can let the Civil Rights movement go.  I'm cool with what we already have.

And of course there's also this: the market for an independent bookstore, is get this people, people who buy books.  I'll give anyone who can actually define book buyers a dollar.  There is little reason to attempt such a stupid task, unless one is writing a business plan.  Don't get me wrong, I understand the need and necessity of writing a business plan.  As business tools go, it seems to be one of the most important ones.  You can use it to chart direction and progress for the life of your business.  And try as I might, I doubt any bank would give me a giant pile of money, if all I did was tell them I'm wicked smaht, and I promise I'll give the money back when I'm done.  That being said, one of the reasons I truly love bookselling is that everyone buys books.  People from all different walks of life, and income strata.  I think I can probably rule the homeless out of the target market, but that's all I can say for sure.

Then there was this: the clean scrubbed youth at CVS will give you any medication, just so long as you claim to be the person it's prescribed for.  I have gone to many different pharmacies before and picked up my mother's medication.  I highly doubt at any time that it would occur to me to attempt to abuse high blood pressure medication, or high cholesterol medication.  Vicodin, on the other hand would be lovely.  All you have to do is answer to someone else's name, and be adamant about it, and voila controlled substance.  If only there was a way to prove people actually were the people they said they were.  You know, like some sort of card that had your name and a picture of you on it.  Kinda makes you wonder why 18 year olds are in charge of the opiates doesn't it? 

Someone Needs To Hold Me Accountable

Though few have ever actually tried.  And let me point out that there is a difference between being assertive and overtly aggressive.  Generally people feel they have to be aggressive with me when managing me, or they just don't manage me at all.  Have I pointed out lately how 90% of those in positions of authority shouldn't be let in charge of anything that has more free will than a ham sandwich?  I promise I am somewhat likable, but as momma once said I don't suffer fools gladly. 

Where is this post going, you ask?  Glad you asked.  I'm presently unemployed.  Don't cry for me Argentina.  Although I acted of my own free will when I decided enough was most definitely enough, if I had hung on for a little while longer, I would most likely have been laid off and received seven weeks of severance pay.  It is somewhat comforting to know that I was able to leave on my own terms and not on someone else's, however.  Someone who doesn't suffer fools gladly rarely enjoys it when fools decisions impact her life.

I promise that this is going somewhere, and although I haven't received a paycheck in over a month, my money situation is okay, and more still seems to be coming in than going out.  I have no idea how this works, other than to say, that I actually spend so little money on myself, that I've created some sort of money black hole, where money just seems to end up in my bank account.  So I have recently resigned myself to working for an idiot.  Really, if my 90% theory works out, it's almost inevitable.  Bear with me, this is actually going somewhere.  I'd just like that particular idiot to be myself.

So that is where this post is going.  Fuck it, it's time to say it, er write it.  Because if I don't, I may have some excuse to let sanity prevail, and not do it.  I may use some sort of qualifier in the sentence that lets me off the hook, or allows me an out.  That would not be okay.  I'm opening a bookstore.  It may be the life decision that ensures a lifetime of pain and suffering.  I'm okay with that.  It couldn't possibly compare to the pain and suffering associated with working for a moron.

That's where accountability comes into play.  If there isn't someone there to hold me accountable, my ADD addled brain would just as soon watch TV all day long.  Yes I know it rots my brain.  It's just that my particular brain reacts well to visual stimulation, and not a hell of a lot to much of anything else.  That coupled with the essential lack of structure presently being imposed on me by the outside world, and essentially I just drool all day, with occasional drinking thrown in for effect.  Believe me, if there's anything out there to make you take a good long look at yourself, and determine that you're still as fundamentally broken as you were half a lifetime ago, it's unemployment.  So it's taken my over a month, but I've decided to hold myself accountable, in the only way I know how; to blog.  If I'm forced to report progress to the rest of the world, despite the fact that most of the rest of the world won't necessarily care about the progress, I'll be forced to actually make progress.  It's a good theory, and it may actually pan out.  Or I may just have a propensity for fucking off that defies description.  We shall see.  And now, to the business plan.

Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

I was only sleeping.  But seriously readers, if in fact there are any readers left, or were any to begin with, I promise to return with lots of things you didn't really know you wanted to know.  That sentence is begging for some sort of punctuation, but for the life of me I have no idea where to start.  But for right now, I think I'll have another cigarette, as the brother and father should be home soon, and I need to reclaim my rightful place on the couch.  So tune in tomorrow, and I promise to have tales to excite and tantalize.  They will probably involve car repair, or at the very least cleaning my car.

Random Political Insanity

I never thought I'd be upset by advances in medical technology.  But great news kids, because of our advances in medical technology, soldiers who are blown up in the war are much more likely to survive.  There have been 20,000 people injured in the war in Iraq.  How many of them have head injuries, amputations, or anything else that makes life a lot less fun to live?  The tragedy of this war is both those survive, and those that don't.  Not to mention the men and women who survive the war, only to take their own lives when they come home.  Stupid, stupid President.  That man shouldn't be allowed to control a Little League team, let alone the fate of an entire nation.

Rest assured boys and girls, this rant is not reserved for the conservative moron in charge.  Rich Liberals are equally as stupid.  Carbon credits.  Fucking idiots.  You're going to pay money so you can pollute the Earth a little more than usual, and in exchange a giant corporation will agree to pollute the Earth just a little less.  Nice try asswipe, if you really care about the planet, it's not about preserving the status quo, it's about improvement.  You don't get to feel better just because you didn't make anything worse.  You're supposed to be making things better.  Otherwise you're just a hypocrite.  Fly in a plane with other people.  Heck fly coach.  If you want to lead the people, try experiencing what they do occasionally.  You don't have to fire maid, or driver, but for Christ's sake, there's more of us than there are of you.  We're America, not you,you hypocritical jackoffs.

Burn the flag.  Burn it all you want.  What is more important, the symbol of the rights we have as Americans, or the rights themselves?  You can not say they are equally important.  It's just a symbol.  Burning it changes nothing.  Sometimes it is the only way to truly express how hideous our country can be.  We're a country run by rich, white, morons.  There is nothing else to say about it.  Sometimes you have to take the symbol of our country and burn it, because doing that is a lot better than the giant metaphorical shit that the powers that be take on the flag each and every day.  That is the last of this politically inspired tirade.  This station now goes back to its regularly scheduled apolitical programing.

Yay Books!

It's been so long since the prospect of maybe actually sitting down and reading something without pictures has made me happy.  Well, this arrived today:

I love Robert Rankin.  Think detective noire with a live teddy bear, who drinks; a lot.  He wrote one of my favorite books of all time the Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse, which admittedly caught my eye first because of the title.  But it's messed up enough so that I really, really, liked it.  His books are a little hard to find in your local bookstore, as they are British and I think they aren't all imported.  Which reminds me of my love for Trafalgar Square Press, which is fond of importing these little British Gems.

I also got this:

The Fifth Ex Machina Graphic Novel, which is of course a comic book for snobs, by Brian K Vaughan.  I love this series.  It's about a superhero who retires and decides to go into politics.  It goes into his origins, and enemies, friends.  It's actually worth reading, but if you have to wait for all of the individual books to come out, you kinda loose track of the storyline.  The curse of anything that comes in a series.

Two days ago I got these:

Siren Promised, by Jeremy Robert Johnson.  Author of some really messed up shit like Extinction Journals, and Angel Dust Apocalypse.  The former a tale of a man who escapes the apocalypse by building a suit out of cockroaches.  This book is brilliant, and absolutely insane.  I look forward to reading this, although I confess I have left it on by desk at work.  Another press to look into, Swallow Down Press.

A book I've been waiting a long time to buy, and finally did.  It Came From Below The Belt, by Bradley Sands.  An author who actually thanked me for linking to him, and then returned the favor.  He then commented on my MySpace page.  I really doubt many other authors would have done the same.  Well Bradley, the only thing I needed to hear about your book was sentient penis.  You had me at sentient penis.  I could've ended it there, and probably should have, but I've always wanted to use the phrase sentient penis, and never before have had occasion to.  Afterbirth Books.  Look it up kids.

At Least I'm Unarmed

I've decided I need to blog more, as it's an awful shame to pay money for a blog you never use.

So here are a few random thoughts I've been having lately:  it's a good thing real hospitals are not like Grey's Anatomy, as the Doctors would spend all of their time fucking while the patients were dropping like flies.

I received my review at work the other day, and apparently I'm cynical, and tend to hide from conflict.  I hate it when people nail my personality that well.  It makes it impossible to argue.  That and I leave the review without rage, which is generally the way it goes, and more of a damn, I thought I was more mysterious sort of vibe.  I hate being an open book.  It means there are people out there who can actually see through the badass thing.  Damn it.

Which is not to say I don't actually have good things written in my review, but I tend to focus on the negative.  It's part of my charm.  At least Erica didn't review me this year.  Although everyone should have a review outside while chain smoking, and staring off into the distance.

I have been writing a lot of reviews lately, which leads me to the realization that I use too many commas.  I usually go through everything I write, and delete extraneous commas before I finish, but I seems that I have been leaving too many in.  Maybe I should read a grammar book.

Had a rather interesting conversation with my mother this evening about women my age who choose to have sex with both men and women before deciding whether to be gay or straight.  I felt like ending the conversation with, "sorry ma still not gay."  That is what one gets when one naturally hides everything from one's family.  The fam naturally assumes you're hiding something big, when generally they don't know what's going on cuz nothing's actually happening.

I slept till 7 PM today.  I guess I was tired.  I think I need a vacation.  Perhaps more than anyone ever has.

Letter of Apology to a Blog

Dear Blog,

I'm terribly sorry I've ignored you for so long.  I have to confess to being rather busy, and spending all my blogging time on MySpace.  Yes blog, I know that you give me the ability to post pictures, and sidebars, and provide me with the joy of spellcheck.  You see blog, it's not you it's me.  I started you to blog about books, and I haven't really been reading much in the past six months.  I understand that my job has beaten down a part of my soul, but I promise to let it grow back.  I promise to read books without pictures in them.  I promise to tell you all about them.  And I swear I didn't just post twice today, because I feel guilty.  And I promise to only work 80 hours this week, so we can spend more time together.  Okay 70.

This Was Too Good Not To Post

Admittedly Don Imus is one of the World's biggest jackasses, and no one deserved to lose their radio show more than he did, but doesn't he look just like Hellboy in this picture?  I took it right off the front of USA Today online, which may just be admitting to copyright infringement, but it was too good to be true.  He looks exactly like Hellboy!  That being said, if you haven't seen Hellboy, you should.  I would especially recommend the special feature of Gerald McBoing Boing.  Whew, spellcheck is gonna have a field day with that one.  Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I'll bet you dollars to donuts (mmm...donuts) that Imus gets a new show on Satellite Radio.  As a proponent of free speech, or freedom on any level, I'm okay with CBS Radio firing him, and I'm okay with a bottom feeder giving him a new show.  I just people weren't stupid, and ignorant enough to say that kinda shit.  I understand that Freedom of Speech allows people to express all sorts of differing opinions, I just wish that stupidity couldn't be characterized as an opinion.

Men Are Weird

Why are we all so fucked up?  I'm sitting there tonight, at a friends thirtieth birthday party, with her, her husband and a friend of his.  This is a male friend of his, who I've seen on several occasions.  We've sort of been doing that talking thing when we go out thing.  We're both smokers so we often have times when we're alone, and can have those moments where we're discussing things.  He does that thing where he holds doors for me, which any woman knows translates into "I want to get into your pants."   Or it could be that he's just a really nice guy.  I do like this guy.  He's sweet, and interesting in that weird artistic sorta way.  So my friend text messages me, while we're in the restaurant, that I should give him my number.  At that point you have to ask yourself, "does he want my number?"  How do you give someone your number?  On what planet do I have to be the person that makes the first move?  How does this stuff work?

I seem to be the type of person that doesn't function particularly well in situations where any tact is required.   This is one of those times.  So the aforementioned thirty year old friend gives me his number.  I now have his number.  What am I supposed to do with it?  Do I call him?  Should I call anyone?  I have the worst phone personality in the world.  Seriously.  Ask anyone who has ever had the misfortune of talking to me on the phone.  It's not pretty.

Why don't we just live in a world, where you see something pretty, hit it over the head, and drag it back to your cave?   I could do that.  But I can't give out my phone number, or call people on the phone.  What am I supposed to do, write it on the palm of his hand?  Perhaps in eyeliner.  If he's expecting that, this is gonna be the shortest relationship in the history of the world.

Plus there's that great part where he's my friend's husband's friend.  That's a mouthful.  It only means I cannot catastrophically fuck this up in the way I'm prone to with relationships.  I was much happier when I thought I'd die alone.  At least that way I didn't have to quit any of my self-destructive behavior.

That and there's work.  Yeah, we should go out.  I think I can fit you in in the 2 to 4 am slot that I usually keep open for sleeping.  Who needs sleep?  Or personal hygiene?  Those are the weapons of the weak.

If I was the last woman on the planet, and expected to make the first move, goodbye human race.