I Raise My Middle Finger, and Take it To Greener Pastures (tm)
by Weasello

A fun and insightful dance of finger waggling and pointing accentuated with real-world-events and other dreadful things.

TOPIC: Today I am going to quit my job. I haven't done it yet, but I'm going to. I am typing this on company time.

WHO: Internet PM, my employer, no longer interests me, no longer suits my requirements of daily life, and also, sucks ass. Internet PM deserves a node on it's own. In a nutshell, Internet PM (www.internetpm.com) is a subsidiary of SexCo (www.sexco.net). Visit SexCo's website and draw your own conclusions. Or heck, form a conclusion by the name of the place.

WHAT: My current job title is "Executive Assistant." To my boss, this means "Vice President or close approximation thereof." To the rest of this world, this means "Overpaid Secretary." This is problem #1 with my job, but more on that later. I was hired to work for $25 (Canadian) per hour, as a sales person. I am now making $15 (Canadian) per hour as a "Vice President." This is problem #2. I now do all hiring, firing, sales, and accounting. I also do everything else, but not exclusively; I do have co-workers.

WHEN: As soon as I've finished this node. I will save this node, speelcheque, cheque grammzr, fix my pipe-linked squarey brackety thingies, and then go drop "da bomb."

HOW: By utilizing my middle finger, accompanying speech, and a backup letter in case I chicken out. Which I likely will, news at 11.

WHY: For pay reasons, or lack thereof technically. My paycheque was due on the 15th of April, and I still have not received it. (Today is April 18, 2002.) Job description also plays a big role, as well as working environment. My boss has a way of screaming his head off when, for some reason, his company is no longer financially sound. Meanwhile, he reaps a paycheque worth more than three times our highest paid employee - who is, by the way, in Tech Support and is not in fact the Vice President.

Oooh it gets worse than this, but I cannot divulge trade secrets - not with the 14-page non-disclosure agreement I had to sign - which, by the way, also prohibits me from working anywhere with a computer for 15 years.

CONCLUSION: It is nigh time that I Get a REAL job! Tomorrow I will be able to say that I quit my job yesterday.

"You said you should quit your job and become an inventor, or you'd torch the house."

Shut it, you!

Job satisfaction? HAH! Try job dissatisfaction. My job is a drug, but one of those bad drugs - I just don't know when to quit. I'm hopelessly addicted to money. Someday I will learn that you are not your job, and less importantly, the difference between good job and bad job.

Today, weasello. Quit your job.

That's it. I quit team sanity.