bunt sign

Mon Tuesday, February 4, 2003

Today turned into a typical Monday, full of confusion, misdirection and interruption. Too bad it was a Tuesday.

Why doesn't it ever get easier? Every time I think I have a system for getting through the work week on a smooth, straight track, out come the bumper cars. Blam! Jarred off course again.

After years of pleading, I've finally convinced Tim to get the time cards to me earlier than the very day he wants the payroll checks mailed. He keeps hiring and firing people at a rate that's hard for me to keep up with. He doesn't realize how much extra paperwork I have to do every time he decides to replace one of the cogs in his ego machine.

It's a good thing I don't work for him, because I wouldn't. I know he's abusive and demanding, because he brags about it. "I tell them if they don't like it they can leave." And so they do. It's not as if he pays them enough to make them want to stay. If they don't quit just to get away from him, they quit because someone else is willing to pay them a wage they can live on.

I'm just another cog, really. One day the company will be his, and he'll replace me with some other masochist. Meanwhile, he's willing to placate me. I've only been asking for about five years to get the time cards on Monday. Lately I've been getting them on Tuesday, which is a big improvement over Wednesday.

It's no big deal to him. Whatever day he faxes them to me, he has to take time from his busy production schedule and scribble them out in his illegible handwriting, misspelling the names of everyone he works with, newbies as well as the guys who have putting up with him for years. He could just as easily take the time to do this on Monday as Wednesday. He wants the checks mailed on Wednesday, though, so that's been the day he did it, despite my whining.

So now, Tuesday. Better, but it still gives me just one day to deal with whatever comes up at the last minute. Today the Boss decided to pursue an insurance company in Chicago for a job we did a year ago. They bonded the people who were supposed to pay us and didn't. If the bond is still any good, they should make sure we get paid, with interest.

But it's more paperwork for me, and even though this has been percolating for months and months, suddenly it's become a crisis, just because the Boss says it is. Several drafts of a letter pretty much wore me out, and also made sure that the payroll would spill over into tomorrow. But the letter got finished, and ready to send certified, return receipt requested. And the payroll will be done on time, too.

And I'm worn out, ready for an early collapse tonight.


Looking across my yard to the fields and trees beyond.

Why is it that the payroll has to be mailed out on Wednesday? There is a reason. Wednesday is the last day that guarantees the crew will receive their checks before the weekend. Tim doesn't want anything mailed earlier in the week, even if I have it done, because he's afraid they'll get drunk on Thursday night and not show up Friday. I don't know if this has ever happened, but it's how he thinks. He's the Boss's son, after all.

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Speaking of heroes, today is the ninetieth birthday of Rosa Parks, a woman whose courage and dignity made it possible for the civil rights movement to take root. She made a significant positive difference in your life and mine. Like Jackie Robinson, she was chosen for a role that would propel civilization a giant step forward.

Recent recommendations can always be found on the links page.

One year ago: Time to Stop
"If someone else makes a promise, it's up to me to see that it's kept, without any flimsy excuse like not knowing a promise had been made, or what it was. If the sun doesn't shine and the birds don't sing, I'm a failure."

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A young girl in Calcutta, barely eight years old
The flies that swarm the marketplace will see she don't get old
But don't you know she heard it on that July afternoon
She heard a man named Armstrong had walked upon the moon