On pointless paperwork
It began with a two-week (I think it’s two weeks) push to make my department “more productive” and find out “where our time is being spent” (why we aren’t finishing all work that is turned in every damn day in 7.5 hours regardless of extenuating circumstances such as breathing, an occasional break or - wait for it - being creative). That where the tracking sheets came in to play. I actually crumpled one up in front of the person who distributed them and said pointless paperwork wasn’t in my job description. The look I received from that was priceless - apparently it was what everyone else was thinking.
But being a good little drone, I have since followed suit and sloppily filled out the pointless bullshit. It’s just another distraction that, in the end, takes away from what I am actually paid to do. I could much more easily sum up where my time goes in the course of a day without filling out a rolling log of what I’m doing every minute of my workday. In a couple of short sentences I am constantly responding to emails, fixing the sloppy and unexcusable designs of others and holding everyone else’s hands because they don’t know how to do certain tasks.
I know that this latest edict comes under the prodding of a certain higher-up but would it kill my department’s manager to grow a fucking spine and go to bat for us JUST THIS ONCE? Apparently it would as my department’s manager is simply mailing it in and passing the buck as this person shows on a daily basis that they are incompetent, in far over their head and afraid of face to face confrontation. I can’t wait until my little one-on-one meeting this week or next week. Hell, with the way my department’s manager deals with stuff, it will get pushed off and never happen because there’s a chance of confrontation and having to answer questions from me.
It makes me want to call in sick for the rest of the week and see how long it is until someone freaks out because they can’t figure out how I do what I do. I’m sadistic that way - I love to see other flop around like a fish out of water because it’s the sweetest form of revenge.
Or maybe one tiny thing, a work log, pushed me so far over the edge that there’s no chance of saving me. This must be why people move to the woods of Montana and fall off the proverbial radar.
