Rantings of the Employed

A lot of people complain about their superiors - the latter's unreasonable tendencies and inconsiderate demands. They rant about how they are fed up with their jobs. They promise that they will definitely, definitely quit soon and look for other employment opportunities where they could spread their wings and fly and be happy and all sorts of crap.

Let me join that roster.

Yes, I hate my superiors. Don't get me wrong, though. I don't hate all of them but just a couple. And like most of dissatisfied employees (let me stress that I am not an employee, by the way), I claim to have valid reasons for my spite.

Let us discuss these superiors one by one.

Superior No. 1:Mr. Loveless North-South Pole
He calls in the wee hours of the morning and late at night to order you around. He does not have any inkling as to what "holy day of obligation", "family day", "rest day" mean. He believes that everyday must be devoted to his whims and wishes.

While it is completely valid to make someone under you to do a job or perform a task preferably within the bounds of that person's job description, that does not give the superior ultimate hold over his/her employee. Unfortunately, Mr. Loveless North-South Pole does not realize that.

He crosses every boundary available to mankind. He orders the office messenger to do personal chores for him. He does not care whether you are at the church on a Sunday (your rest day): you are to go to a particular office and guard the activities which are being done a mile or more away - and you have to do that without any telescopes or zooming contraptions at that. Once you point that measly fact out, you'd get a shout or two from him for your idiotic observation.

He makes you do everything he can think of, without regard as to what really is important and necessary. He expects you to be in two, three, or four places at the same time and if you even protest that splicing yourself will not be a very nice sight to behold, you will be treated to a scornful look and a high-pitched sermon about the important of being in two, three, four places at the same time. His word is the law. (Though it rarely ever makes sense. But that's just your opinion, so it doesn't count.)

Superior No. 2: Mr. Forgetful Breacher

Such an ordinary name for an extraordinarily forgetful man. Yes, he tends to forget things. Often. But, noticeably, he only forgets those items and details which would be beneficial to you and harmful or offensive to his cause. Yes, he wants to downplay your rights and establisheshis idea of howyour rights should be. He calls the shots. He makes your rights. He decides what is best for you. After all, he should know best, being the manager and all.

And he conveniently forgets your agreement. Yes, he is no man of his word. He denies you every point that you both have agreed upon. He denies the existence of any agreement whatsoever between the two of you. He breaches your contract by substituting his template of an agreement for the original contract. In the end, he will be thoroughly benefited. In the end, you are left clutching the remnants of your violated contract wondering what the hell happened and who the hell is this monstrous, wealthy but selfish person before you who is presently pretending you do not exist.


So these are the two monstrosities who are ruining my days and giving me cause to complain and rant and threaten to quit my work. (Oh, and they also fuel my desire to bitch-slap them to my heart's content.)

They are the reason why I do not enjoy working anymore. If not for the other inhabitants of our simple workplace, I would have done a Ruffa Gutierez. But unlike Ruffa G., I do not have the benefit of another employment offer, which will save my hide and ego.

So instead of going hungry and succumbing to mendicancy, I tolerate these vile prejudices against my persona. And I swear to myself that time will come when these monstrous superiors will kiss. my. feet.