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Wednesday, April 6, 2005

Itís too bad Iím so tired, because if I ever wanted to rant about my job, this would be the day. I donít have that much energy, so Iíll just tell you what happened. It probably wonít sound like much, so maybe a rant isnít even indicated.

It started with one of those phone calls from Tim this morning, one of those calls that starts, ďDo you have time to answer a few questions?Ē His questions always lead me in circles. Some of it is trying to decipher what heís asking, and the rest is trying to figure out what kind of answer he wants.

ďHow much time do you put in on the kennel paperwork?Ē I donít exactly keep track, so I guessed. A couple of hours a week to pay bills. A couple of hours twice a month to do payroll. Four or five hours to help with the billing. Plus an odd hour here and there for miscellaneous documents and forms. Finally I came out and asked him, ďWhere are you going with this?Ē

It turns out the Boss has been telling him that Iím overworked. Now, I havenít exactly complained about being overworked, although I havenít exactly denied it, either. I donít have twice as much work to do since we bought the kennel, and the construction company isnít suffering because of the work I do for the new business. I assured him of all those facts, but he wasnít finished.

ďWhat about the stuff Julie asks you to do?Ē Heís always trying to get me to say something negative about Julie, because he doesnít get along with her. I will not let him put me in the position of saying anything bad about her, so I always choose my words carefully when the subject comes up. I told him that if it werenít for Julieís help, I really would have twice as much to do. She doesnít cost me any time; she saves me time. She doesnít ask me to do something extra; I ask her.

He got very quiet. ďI guess Iíll talk to you later.Ē So I guess I won the argument, if thatís what it was. But it never pays to get into a discussion like that. Tim is the Bossís son and will inherit the business. Heís an equal partner in the kennel. He has way more pull than Julie. I just donít like to be bullied into telling him what he wants to hear, unless itís the truth. When he wants to hear a validation of his fictional version of the real world, I canít bring myself to play along.

4 April 2005

Scattered clouds.

Did I go to the Boss and tell him Tim was harassing me again? Of course not. The whole conversation took about twenty minutes out of my morning, much less time than I wasted faxing all those pages to a machine that was receiving but not printing. I spent most of the day trying to send faxes to the Boss. My machine told me they were going through. Late in the afternoon I got a call asking where all those pages were, and I just about lost it. They were supposed to call me back when they had the machine operational again. Iím still waiting.

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I read the results of the American Idol ďliveĒ elimination show online before it was even broadcast here on the west coast tonight, and yet I watched it anyway. If only Iíd known the results of the Giants-Dodgers game before it started, I could have saved myself three hours of agony.

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"He also knows I keep a journal, and he's online every day, but he doesn't quite get the concept."

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