Tales From a Shit Job
To say I'm overqualified for my job would be like saying that Moglia has a hair or two, or is a little bit grouchy sometimes. When people (meaning co-workers) find out somehow that I'm "in school", they tend to respond with a: "Oh, how nice! Where do you go to school?", expecting me to say "Oh, Quincy Community College..." or something. When I raise an eyebrow and wryly say: "Oh, I'm finishing up my Master's degree in a program that's a cooperative between Emerson College and Tufts University...we take Professional Communication and Marketing coursework at Emerson and Medicine and Public Health classes at Tufts.", they tend to respond with an open mouth and eventually chirp something like "Well, good for you!"
Yeah. Good for ME. Now, is there any more brainless busy work I can do?
It's my job to enter all the outgoing subrogation liens (don't worry if you don't know what those are, it doesn't really matter...) and other outgoing certified mail into the database and see to it that they get to Mail Services. It's mostly liens, but sometimes checks or what have you get thrown into the mix as well.
So, a co-worker from the national department (I'm in the "local" department), comes up to me with a check that needs to go out. "I just need to make sure it gets out. Will it go out today? If it won't go out today, it needs to be locked up..." (that's standard procedure for checks, btw...) "It's very important that it be taken care of. Be very careful with it. Just so you know, it's for a hundred thousand dollars."
I sat there staring at her, completely dumbfounded. Apparently, someone had left the "A retard sits here" sign by my cubicle again. I quickly began formulating replies:
"Ok. Just so you know, your skirt is 2 sizes too small."
"Ok. Just so you know, you're going to spend the rest of your life working in that cubicle in this office until you slowly go crazy."
"Ok. Huh. A blue sweater with a brown skirt, pantyhose, AND brown socks with black shoes. What an interesting fashion statement you're making there."
"Ok. Wow, that's almost enough to pay off all the loans I have for my expensive graduate education at one of the nation's top-rated schools. Is that sweater from K-mart?"
I bit my tongue, of course. But eventually 2 more people came by to make sure I understood the grave importance of the matter. Gads, haven't these simpletons ever seen a big check before? Hayseed suburbanite fucktards.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to jump up and down with an open bottle of Hawaiian Punch.