Pickings will be slim in these parts for a bit because I’m on track to work 60-70 hours a week until the end of crush. An eleven-hour day picking grapes is le hard. It barely leaves time for laundry.
Some strange things have happened to my sleep patterns over the past few days, and I had a 36-hour bout of dehydration-induced constipation, but my blood pressure is decent for a change. Being away from the nexus of gaslighting sleaze helps. That, and being away from Starbucks for twelve hours at a stretch. Maybe more on this later, if it still seems worthwhile.
One of the Safeway lifer dogs in the area knows my bosses and has a very high opinion of them. I’m not going into details, since I try to forcibly associate only bad people with this blog, but she’s right about my bosses. They’re stellar. The unfortunate corollary is that many bosses (and many hiring managers) are incredible shitheads whose shitheadedness only really comes into focus as one steps away from the gaslight. This is one of the reasons that a society needs a healthy Jeffersonian business community: the yeoman entrepreneur is less likely to be interested in playing depraved mind games with applicants and employees because he has crops to get in pretty damn soon, or something like that.
This is not to suggest that mindfucking asshats in HR are somehow a model of Hamiltonian efficiency. They just pretend that their rat bastardy is about efficiency or due diligence or some shit. The reason they usually play their sick games in large organizations is because those are usually the ones with enough fat and enough hidden crevices for a shithead to ensconce himself. Sometimes the Jeffersonian upstarts try to follow their lead, with cringeworthy results some of which I’ve had the misfortune of experiencing.
TL;DR: There are a lot of fuckheads in HR, and maybe you have to work for one or more of them, but maybe you don’t. Hopefully that doesn’t sound like a Deep Thought from Jack Handy.
It feels unctuous to write this, but I’m starting to integrate into the Lane County community. At least it isn’t the Jackson County community. Notwithstanding whatever horseshit goes down in Eugene, Lane County has a miniscule prevalence of narcissists compared to Jackson County, home to “Our Valley,” even though KLCC runs live broadcasts of the Oregon County Fair (WTF) on account of its being “NPR for Oregonians” (eeeewwww). Anyway, I’m getting to know some people around here, and I’ve gotten a good enough lay of the land to believe that community life in the area isn’t particularly incestuous. On the other hand, I came here under better circumstances than I came to Ashland or before that to Eureka. Because as Kirk Siegler’s Hispanic Latino friends in Pueblo know, it’s all about who you know and values. And my values right now are bedtime.