Could I come out and meet him? Let's see...I'm on day four of my workout clothes and I've just run two miles. I'm one of those women who sweats like a fucking musk ox, and these clothes were already pretty exciting when I put them on. At this point, those visible funk waves emanating from my person are mile markers counting down the distance to the Heart O' Funkytown - population: my shorts. No, I can't come and meet this guy in the next five minutes.
I take a shower and go back to my desk to be greeted by a phone call saying that this guy is still here and wants to see me. I peruse his resume on my way to the conference room, and it reads like my Dad's. He's worked for a lot of companies in some fairly highly-placed positions, he's owned his own business. And now he wants to come here? Who's zoomin' who?
I talked to him for nearly 45 minutes. He's an interesting guy and we had a good chat, but there's no way in hell he'd be happy doing the grunt work of technical writing. Not going to happen. And I'm a little annoyed that I ended up taking the hour that it took to talk to him and write up my report of that talk, because I had been told unequivocally that we are not hiring another tech writer.
Apparently, because the last qualified person wanted more than we were willing to pay, we don't need one. So, I'm doing that person's work. And my own. And that of another woman who left because her project got cut but now we're ressurrecting it. And meanwhile our software writer is doing the work of another tech writer who got fired a year ago. And some new stuff that's come up in hardware.
In the meantime, they've made a complete ninny the head of one of the groups, and he persists in talking to me like I'm retarded. Before he got promoted, we were friends and we joked and talked and he was a great guy. The sudden bump in responsibility leaves him thinking that he's gotten smarter, more competent and better-liked as well, but alas, it's all in his mind. He went from harmless likeable peon to obnoxious asshole. His stuff does not get very high priority. Call me petty, but they don't even pay me enough to do my actual job, let alone deal with that sort of thing.
The nice thing is that I will have very little to miss once I finish this book and get the hell out. There are three or four people I'll miss greatly (two of whom live close anyway) and the gym is always a good thing. But not worth this shit.
I'm telling you, this is starting to grate on me like nobody's biz.