Great news, kiddies!
It seems the powers that be have aligned the planets in such a way that my employment-related-astrological-house-whatever-the fucking-hell in my horoscope has opened wide and shone it’s blinding light upon the crevices of my weary, mortal soul.
(My apologies, I just finished watching a vampire movie and the dialogue stuck with me… *hissssssss!*)
Translation: I moved up a notch in the employment scale. Yes, puny humans! I am no longer a lowly freelancer! I have now been promoted to… err…..
Temporary employee.
Aw come on, look on the bright side, I’ll be doing the whole 40-hr, 5-days-a-week shit, and be protected from managerial abuse by some union thingy, and all that corporate shit that i still have yet to understand (don’t ask me anything about the employee manual, I haven’t even touched it). Hey! I even get a parking sticker! oh joy!
I had totally forgotten that I was offered the position months ago, when it was discussed that one of The Girls (That superpowered duo of Graphic Design Ladies, remember?) had to go on maternity leave.
I received the news in the most matter-of-fact, anti-climactic ways possible. I was summoned to the Human Resources office by their gorgeous coordinator lady (hey, I might play for the other team, but I sure can tell when a woman is fuckin’ beautiful. Who the fuck do you think runs beauty pageants? Rich old white guys? Bitter old ladies projecting their longing for eternal beauty in those young flesh vessels? Nu-uh. Flamboyant, Barbra-loving homos, that’s who.)
So she sits me down and reminds me that I was going to cover for a maternity leave, and then she says: "Well I have this contract here for you… Bla bla blah, yackity shmackity–" I stopped listening at the mention of a contract, seeing as she slid the paper my way and yammered on about reading the whole thing and acknowledging everything I was about to sign up for. She also pointed out my salary, which, unsurprisingly, was only a small notch above my salary as freelancing scum. Well, not a problem for me, the important thing is that… I’M IN!!! I’M INFILTRATING THEIR FLANKS! BECOMING A FUNCTIONAL GEAR IN THE MECHANICAL MAMMOTH THAT IS A DAILY PUBLICATION!
Well, I have been that gear from a while back, I never expected that my ideas or even my name would be printed in a newspaper as part of it. Even though I am at the very lowest branch of the hyerarchycal tree in that company, I already feel drunk with power!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!
AAAAAAAAAHAHAAHAHA!!!!!!
AAAAAAHAHA… *cough cough!!!! hack!!!*
Ahem!
Megalomaniacal outbursts aside, I’m pretty stoked. Even though, as one of my acquaintances in the seedy underground of graphic design told me, that kind of job can be a serious hindrance to your creative abilities, in the sense that your creative boundaries are drawn so close that you get desperate and feel an incredible need to transform the whole newspaper into a tribute to Dadaism. That kind of scares me a little. I CRAVE freedom, I crave it in my personal life, and it wouldn’t hurt to have some in my work life. Even though I guess the reason I like my workplace so much is because, as far as I can see, out of all the sections in the newspaper, that is one of the very few that gives it’s designers a little bit more of creative leash.
Wait a minute, to some extent… I already have that freedom!
Then what the fuck am I bitching about?
I refuse to project other people’s job-related conundrums unto me. I’m happy as an earthworm (heh), and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Yes. I fucking love my temporary, low-paying job.
Ren_ &_Stimpy-happy_happy_joy_joy.mp3
