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Bruce, we gave you tha keys, and THIS is what you brought home?

¿Dónde está mi dinero, las rameras?

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Thursday, September 9

One more simple analogy

Let's say I made $75K a year.

I don't, but just say I did. That's NOT enough money to buy my loyalty. That's not enough for me to forsake my family for my career. That's not enough to make my employer, good old Whipple Widgets, my lifestyle.

But 75K is nothing to sneeze at, either. I'm not going to fall out of bed and walk into another job making that kind of money. 75K pays the bills, puts a new roof over our heads, lets us buy name brand duds for the kiddos, unless I owned a doctorate degree, which I don't, you don't fuck with 75K.

Let's say that I work in a metropolitan area where traffic is a uncaring, unpredictable bitch, and say that this morning I came in at 20 after 8, when normally I should be in before 8.

My computer is on the fritz. I can't get on the mainframe to look at any of our source code. All I can do is contribute to the e-mail explosion in our company, surf the web, and write for this ever-entertaining blog.

Now, the boss is supposed to leave at 4. He usually fucks around here until 4:20. He gets in earlier than me, and he knows damn well what time I got in today. I would normally leave at 4, too. But as you know, I got in late today. He also knows that I am up shit creek without a paddle, and he probably can guess that I am actually sitting here typing in my blog.

Well, is it really going to matter one way or another if I get up to leave at 4? In truth, I'm not going to get any more done one way or another.

But WILL I leave at 4?

NO, I WILL NOT. I will wait until after the boss leaves, and even give myself a healthy cushion after that, in case he decides to get into a conversation in the lot. For I do not want to appear that I am slacking off, leaving early, putting my selfish desires to sit in front of my TV box earlier than I am entitled to. I am going to outlast the boss, so he can never say that he caught me leaving too early.

I make 75 grand a year, writing software.

Sammy Sosa makes that in an evening, for playing a kid's game.

But Tuesday night, he decided to cut work early, thus leaving us with the Great Calvin Murray to pinch hit in a Wild Card chase.

So for all you Sosa ass-licking syncophants everywhere, your guy QUIT on us!

Congratulations, you must be so proud.