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No that is not the U.N. People. As in United Nations. It has more in common with un-person as defined by Mr. Orwell in his book 1984 than some diplomatic snake pit in New York City.
No, the un-people the Desk is referring to work up here on the Second Floor of another Snake Pit.
The Desk and its co-worker have moved 'up yonder' to the domain of whoever it is we actually work for now. We have heard several names tossed around as to who is really and truly holding the bag we are in now, and none of them mean anything to the Desk. If it even looks like it Might be a Boss, say 'Yes Ma'am' / 'No Sir' and make tracks the other way as fast as possible.
The Desk is not the 'People Person' of its two-man day job, that is the co-worker's role in the scenario. He IS a people person. 'RJ' as we shall call him here, laughs with them, listens to their stories, tells his own stories, and suffers the fools with the patience worthy a Saint. While the Desk has been known to post a sign over its desk that says:
So when RJ noticed that the people on the second floor don't speak when you say 'good morning', they don't smile when you spout off 'Happy Holidays' or some such sentiment, and they even go to some lengths to avoid eye contact, the Desk had to investigate. It made a couple of tours of the floor, and went out of its way to run into people and speak to them. He said they were: Un-friendly, Un-speaking, Un-happy, Un-welcoming, Un--- a few other things.
Guess what?
Either everybody up here is having a simultaneous toothache and a Category Four Hemorrhoid Storm, or they are genuinely unfriendly to the point of perhaps being clinically xenophobic. And there is an outside chance some of them may even be a borderline sociopath.
What would turn a group of professionals into an outfit reminiscent of those 'eyes down mumbling to oneself tooth grindingly paranoid peasant from the Middle Ages when the Prince walks by' people so consumed with fear and loathing they can't even enjoy a fresh donut?
Perhaps being lied to about your job security, or lack thereof, from one day to the next.
Perhaps being told nothing you have done for your entire career is worth a damn and you'd better get good at saying 'Thank you for shopping at Walmart'.
Perhaps being micromanaged to the extent of having to account for every phone call, email, fax, and memo in or out every day, and if there is a discrepancy, you are essentially audited within a paperclip's breadth of your job, if not your life.
Perhaps it is being invited to the office Christmas party and having to use your own lunch hour (and vacation time if you run over an hour) for the privilege of paying nearly twenty bucks a head to rub elbows with the same people telling you to look for another job.
Perhaps it is the Bosses running around looking for ways to make more work for each other and everybody else to justify their existence so they can keep their job doing all the above.
Face it. This place is no longer someplace to be if you want to be happy in your job.
The Joy of Life here is long gone. Melancholy is the order of the day. Don't be friendly with anybody you might have to spit on tomorrow. Routine is both a comfort and curse. But any change is to be regarded as a threat to be avoided or met with resistance and maybe even open hostility if need be. Even the dust stirred up by the passing of the Circus Parade of Excitement At Work has settled and fossilized in place. A stampede of drooling werewolves ringing Salvation Army Bells while a UFO landed on the roof to disgorge a battalion of Elvis Clones to whitewash the building inside and out wouldn't even be noticed as long as they properly signed in at the front desk and got their 'VISITOR' badge.
Why is the Desk still here?
Well, it's not by choice. It is still firing off an average of one application a week, and has had two outside interviews and one 'almost but not quite' job offer. It has floated a test balloon of going back to working for itself, and would, except right now it has to have family health insurance. And it is actively looking for a publisher for any of several novels it has written and wrung through at least one proofreading and editing. So it ain't still here for lack of trying.
Why is the Desk's co-worker RJ still here?
Well, it's not really by choice either. He has sent out apps and has made some noise about going back into the military full time. But he's also the eternal optimist and about half believes that there may be a chance that we could move into the new department.
The Desk has some thoughts on those chances... but this is a Family Oriented Website.
That's enough, the Desk has to go grind its teeth at some of the UN-people.
-30-
By popular demand. The Day We All Got Fired!
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