Damn I am in a rut. I was going through old flashes because I wanted to send something to someone to cheer them up. Yeah, no. Most of my fiction, long, short, medium length, unfinished, whatever length or width; is dark or sad or dark and sad, or snarky which is kinda like witty only meaner.
So, I’m doing the whole trying to write daily thing again no matter how ugly or banal (hmmm, I’ve been working with that word, it might be the least poetic word in the English language. If I was going to give banal a makeover I’d pronounce it b’anal. Just saying. See? Almost witty but meaner.)
And since I have absolutely nothing going on this is going to be another entry, or at least a paragraph or two about stupid shows I watch on my computer. Um, I brought a very nice surround system, including a heavy ass sub woofer, across the country in my Jeep, let’s call it one tenth of my personal belongings from three decades in Oregon. I travelled across the rockies and the great plains with it. When I got here I got a deal on a fifty inch plasma. In the living room there is a great home entertainment system. My dad was too demented to ever quite notice and neither of my parents could manage the simple remote. Around three in the afternoon I turn on judge Judy for my mom. Me I watch TV on my computer.
Huh. That was a shitty paragraph. Let’s just get on with the shitty show.
So I was watching some dumb comedy that was a suggestion from Netflix because I had watched this other dumb show, a British comedy. British sit coms have come a long way. When I lived in England the BBC still had a stranglehold on, well, everything, and British TV was like toast with butter. Toast without butter that had been left on a south facing window sill for three days and sprinkled with a bit of sand and seasoned sawdust. Now British Comedy is almost as crass as American comedy only better written. The stupid show that I kind of like that the other was recommended from was called Scrotal Recall. Clever. Crass.
So the stupid American sitcom which has a name, I’m sure, had this episode about a guy asking his boss for a raise at a bar b que because his wife was making four bucks a week more than he was. It dawned on me that I have never been in that situation in my life. Ever. My first steady job was as a paperboy. A Raise wasn’t an option, I got tips because I was good and because people are polite here. My second through fifth jobs (most concurrent) which we will simplfy by just calling it one, was a grill cook at this low budget steak house that hired mostly minors because a law in Michigan that was supposed to support layoffs in the auto industry said you didn’t have to pay minors the same wages (minimum wage) as adults. The raises came almost up to regular minimum wage and so if you still worked for them after turning eighteen you’d be making minimum wage as a bonus.
During college my most steady gig was work study at a day care. My wages were part of my grants and scholarships, so it wasn’t a question of merit, I got paid based on how much was allocated to work study.
For the following fifteen years I worked for the State of Oregon, salaried. In every job I had with the State there was a six month performance review and a standard increase in pay. You had to really fuck up to get a poor review and, I suspect, even if you did fuck up and were on a probationary period, you’d still get your pay increase.
After that I was in Sales, commissioned sales. I assume every boss in every part of the world who has employees who are commissioned says the exact same thing whenever an employee asks for a raise; Sell more. I never asked for a raise in Sales, I almost always sold more. I did, however, remind management from time to time when harassed about taking a break that my pay was based on my selling so unless everyone else on the salesfloor was dead I was doing them a favor by taking a break. With all due humility, most sales managers had the good sense to let me whatever the hell I wanted. They got reviewed on my performance and with me happy they looked good.
Huh, didn’t plan on that tangent, but it’s true and understated. My point is I’ve never asked a boss for a raise, ever. I know it’s been a standard storyline in sit coms since time immemorial, I just can’t relate. My folks were professors, tenured, raises aren’t applicable. People I’ve been close to in my life who could have possibly had to ask for a raise, well, if they did they never talked to me about it. I think if I ever had to do that I’d go balls out and be ready to accept the consequences, e.g. I’m worth more and if you can’t see that I’m going to a company that can. I mean I guess it would depend on my personal relationship with boss, not the intent, just the language. I wouldn’t ever do that as an idle threat and I’d never do that just to see what happens, but, again, I’ve never had a job that worked like that, where there was a person who could change my rate of pay on a personal whim.
Promotions, yes, but shit even with promotions I knew I was going to get and the interview committee knew I was going to get, it still had to go through all the pomp and circumstance and several other suckers had to get interviewed and weeks gone by, even for promotions I was already underfilling they still had to send out all the paperwork and shit. For the most part promotions are not raises; they are more paperwork and responsibility for very similar pay and they suck. With both the state and sales I turned down chances at promotions. I think it’s damn cynical that there is a phrase in American English ‘Peter Principal’ and the entire work force though loathing the concept strives for it. Um, in case I’m way out of touch or you are, the peter principle is, paraphrased, Rising to the level of incompetence. Most every one of my bosses and yours plateaued at the level of their incompetence at just the level of your immediate supervisor, or, they had the good sense to refuse being promoted and liked the job they had. Think really hard about how many bosses you’ve had that were 1) Happy with their job and 2) competent at it. A bit scary no?
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