Stirring The Pot

So, since the incident I've been on light doodie.
Basically I'm reviewing the rules and regulations of this wonderful place I work, and letting them know if I find something wrong.
About three days in, I did.
Not so much a discrepancy, but a concern.
We sell items that people aren't supposed to have.
A good two page report to the upper-crust and the next day I'm called into the bosses office to get chewed out about "reviewing" rules and regs "...not stating [my] opinion on what [I] think is wrong with them!"
Okay.
I took THAT well.
I'll just do what I do and not let anyone know when I think something is wrong.
Seems like this is a case for T-Shirt Hell.

Anyway, today I'm flipping thought the R&R and find something very disturbing.
Bettering yourself is not required, but definitely encouraged.
However, it seems as though, where I work, we have a little rule where if you choose to better yourself, and you fail, you will be fired.
Not you can, not you may, you will be subject to disciplinary actions (found via R&R) which are termination.

Let me break this down to you.
Not because I feel that you're dumb and need the explanation, but for those of you who follow along already know, this is the kind of thing I do.

Bob works at Disneyland (a respected name in Disney Entertainment) as Pluto.
Bob wants to be a main character such as Mickey Mouse.
(On a side note, if you sing through, M.I.C.-K.E.Y. but replace mouse with moose, it still sounds the same, only funnier... M.O.O.S.E. Mickey Moose, Mickey Moose...)
Now Bob goes through Mouse training and does just fine, but fails his mouse test.
To be fair, Disneyland gives Bob another chance at his mouse test anytime within 90 days of his original mouse testing, but he fails that too.
Now Disneyland fires Bob.
Not keeps him at Pluto status, not gives him more time to work on his mouse test.
FIRES him.
However, if Bob would have gone through, and failed, the duck [Donald] test, Bob could still be Pluto.

There is no difference in pay for being Pluto, or Donald, or Mickey, just an extra notch in the cap.

The only real difference is if Bob wants to be a greeter.
But once again, Bob can be a greeter as Donald, and not get fired for failing.
Mickey is a different story though.

We're punishing people for trying to better themselves, if they shoot to high and fail.

Anyway, I got my big wooden spoon and decided to address this with the higher echelon with my handy dandy letter writing skills.

So tomorrow, I figure I'll be making yet another trip in to see the big boss.
(Showing you where I work will have to do, I can't find a name tag.)


Don't let 'em getcha!
V.V.

My Most Humble Appologise

I know some of you have gotten used to coming here and reading a little something something, But you haven't been able to do that.

Since that accident, I haven't written much.
I blame it on the meds.
By the time I get home, after my light doodie, I'm so medicated up that I can't think straight enough to speak, let alone type.
I stare at the wall waiting for the right word to pop into my head.
But I'm Route 66 and all the words I need are on the Freeway, cruising by my lonely brain, completely unaware that it's even there for them to be serviced.

Anyway, I'll do better soon.

Until then, don't let em' getcha.

V.V.

Check Out This Sheeightt!!

I've been out for a minute, as most of you know.
I was injured in the line of doodie.
In the event that you would be interested, you can copy this x-ray and enlarge it.
You'll find the tip of my finger to be broken off and "severely misplaced."
Actually, this is after they put the pin in (obviously) so it isn't misplaced anymore.
I don't really know what they said misplaced anyway, I knew where it was the whole time.
Still in my finger.
Trying to come out where my fingernail should be.
The tip is actually what pushed the nail up in the first place.
It was pretty disgusting looking, and a bled like a, well...
*What has two legs and bleeds profusely? Half a cat.*
... I guess like a stuck pig. (No pun intended.)

Anyway, so this happened on day one(1), and by day three (3) I saw a "specialist" and had this nifty pin in my finger.

On a slightly related note, one day two (2) I got a different kind of nifty new pin.
This wicked-cool Zebra pen (Zebra F-701) that has a grip similar to a socket wrench.
(Maybe that's why I like it so much.)

So my "specialist" turns out to be a plastic surgeon/hand specialist.
He informs me he would have put the nail back on (coulda told me THAT sooner) and I might be able to return to work as a hand model for QVC, but it'll take about a year.
Since I injured myself not at QVC (on a renegade 9 carat topaz two finger pimp ring) but at my regular job, I don't have to pay for this hand and breasticle doctor, which makes me happy.
Of course, I can't really go to work, even when I go to work, and I can't model anymore genuine artificial emerald colored pea-gravel stones in an aluminum foil wrap gently and gracefully placed around the wrist (Much like a bracelet.) but it's still like having time off.

It's been giving me plenty of time to think about other things, like posts that need to be written, and other neat-o things.

Tonight, however, it's 545 a.m. and I'm going to bed.
I have many rules and regulations to go over tomorrow

Don't let me getcha. : )

V.V.