Friday, April 10, 2009

Thought for the what now?

This is a message I found posted near a time clock:
What the...?
As I've mentioned before, I still (perhaps foolishly) believe words should mean something. I'm not talking about "meaning" as in profundity, I'm talking about " meaning" as in forming some kind of coherent damn thought. Nonsensery (you like that one, Rupe?) like this just really pills my sweater. If the poorly expressed sentiment here means anything at all, it's "If you were any good at your job, that would be enough and you wouldn't need to bitch about your paycheck", which is, at best, highly insulting. Also, the unwritten subtext postscript would read "So stop bitching about your paycheck, bitches. Punch in already and get to work or punch out and go home, but either way, stop standing around reading stuff on company time. Bitches.", which is redundant, and also not very nice.
There are lots of things I'm really, really good at that I don't enjoy at all!
Okay, that isn't true. But only because I'm not good at anything. If I were, I assure you I would not enjoy it.
Isn't it a little odd that many of the people to whom this statement might most likely apply, the kind of people who could conceivably experience real joy in the performance of their endeavors (such as heart surgeons, professional athletes, entertainers), are people who wouldn't know what a time clock is if they ran over one with their Escalade?
BONUS RANT: Why are the devices used to document how much time employees spend at work called "time clocks"? What other kind of clock is there? I don't eat my dinner off a food plate. My computer doesn't have a typing keyboard. Things like this make me wish someone would shoot me with a bullet gun.

2 comments:

Denis A. Baldwin said...

One of my previous jobs had "enthusiasm seminars" every morning where we all got together for 2 minutes and one of the bosses would read us crap like this. After a year of that, I always wanted to shoot things with my bullet gun.

ChrisC and JonJ said...

Doesn't it make you want to put a hot poker right thru your eye?It couldn't hurt any worse than that drivel managers love to dish out.