Never Met a German

The year is winding down finally. Not a particularly a good year and not the worst but somewhere nearly perfectly in the middle. On the pressing home front, McMann and Tate or rather, Wolf Olinz still owes me some pay and it hasn’t come through yet and I don’t think I’ll know anything about that until Tuesday, maybe when the controller, Blue Eyed Knob or the human resources director, Muscle Relaxant return to work and properly ignore my email about what is going on. Obviously I’m using surreal names for the company and for the people because I really don’t give a shit about what they think.

I spoke with Amiable Alan who misses me in the office but realizes that I did the right thing by leaving. They treated him like shit too so perhaps he’s another person planning on leaving that well of dysfunction sooner rather than later. That makes about 4 or 5 people who’ve whispered their plans to leave Wolf Olinz. I’m not naming names but they are good people, hard workers who routinely get treated like crap. I wonder if Brian Babylon, the head of the company in the UK knows about what a horror show his New York office is?

So no bonus, which was expected, whether or not I get the weeks vacation pay seems doubtful but I do believe at least one week’s salary should be coming my way since I did earn it by working for these lunk heads. I don’t know if I mentioned during the last operations meeting as I was answering a question I was asked about how I was doing something, I was talked over which lead me to continue speaking about being talked over about how ridiculous it is to answer questions that were not being heard by the questioners.

Despite my trying to tie loose ends together my actions went unnoticed and now I sit waiting for a paycheck that I know Alan had received, and I’m sure other people’s direct deposits have gone through. Me? I feel like I’m being punished. Punished for taking action for being treated and abused they way they had abused me for nine fucking months. They are quite stupid and ruthlessly paranoid. I mean, these are the people that hired a security guard to sit at the front desk all night for fear that Felicia (who’s real name is Ariane) was going to show up in the middle of the night and do some damage.

They probably did the same when I left though I left voluntarily, whereas Felicia was fired. I just want my fucking money, that is all and I will be far away from them. In one of the last morning announcements I made, I quoted the Smiths, ‘For the good life is out there somewhere/so stay on my arm you little charmer’. I didn’t add the last lines, ‘for I know my luck to well/and I’ll probably never see you again’ from ‘Hand in Glove’. Douche bags.

Now it’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. Juan and I saw ‘Brazilian Girls’ at Irving Plaza last night. They were great and a lot of fun and Juan and I had a great time saying snarky things about various people around us. Nothing too malicious, just a good natured ribbing between friends. It was a blast and I’m glad Juan enjoyed the show. The band was great and charismatic amongst the lights and smoke machines. I’d definitely see them again and I plan on asking Juan to burn me some cd’s of their stuff. I’m utterly charmed by deadpan vocals from a chanteuse in a top hat. I can be so easy.

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