As the subject says, this has been an interesting one. Andrew got bitten by the Bohican, (for those who don’t know, “Bohican” is an acronym for “Bend Over Here It Comes Again”, signifying the monster that inhabits Convergys, seeking to get any employee, and screw them in whatever way possible, having a fond taste for the hard-working employees, and is probably in the direct employ of Human Resources, but obeys the business manager, operations manager, service level, and any other supervisor who chooses to harness its power). We were in cue as usual Wednesday night, but the supervisor in charge had an extremely low level of competence, “when is that ever a surprise), and thus didn’t realize that Andrew was in the wrong split, and consequently, wasn’t taking as many phone calls as the rest of us. So, said supervisor takes the logical course of action, and brings the matter to the attention of Andrew’s supervisor. After all, we can’t have acting supervisors being shown as incompetent, can we? As a result of the acting supervisor going to Andrew’s supervisor, Andrew was fired the next day. There were two supervisors who tried to come to his defense, but by the time they found out what was happening, crucifixion-on-the-down-low had already begun. But Andrew didn’t go like a lamb to the slaughter. When he cam back on the floor to get his stuff, he announced to every agent there that they need to watch their back, because Convergys has a knife ready for each of them too, and they have no problem sacrificing their employees in order to avoid looking idiotic, or better yet, better one man go than actually spend the time and effort to fix the system already in place. The human Resources director informed Andrew that he had two minutes to get off the floor. Andrew asked if it looked like he was dallying, and told the HRD that they could take his money away, but they weren’t getting his turkey sandwitches. The whole thing was tragic and funny at the same time. Andrew was a hard worker, and his not being there makes a difference. AFter all, when 85 percent or more of the other people there don’t work, it’s hard enough. But when yo lose a hard worker on top of that, it gets even more difficult. Andrew says he’s willing to take me back and forth to work, for which I am very appreciative. But, apparently, the Human Resources director cursed Andrew with the power of the Bohican, because when he was taking me home from work Thursday night, his radiator blew. As a result I’ll be cabbing it back and forth, and everywhere else I need to go, until further notice. very very expensive. On top of that, I was informed by my supervisor, (who happens to be the same acting supervisor from the story just told), on Friday that “we’re having a pot-luck” on Tuesday. How the hell am I supposed to provide something, and have enough for sixteen people, given the current situation? Any ideas would be appreciated, as well as overall suggestions. Everybody take care.

As the subject says, this has been an interesting one. Andrew got bitten by the Bohican, (for those who don’t know, “Bohican” is an acronym for “Bend Over Here It Comes Again”, signifying the monster that inhabits Convergys, seeking to get any employee, and screw them in whatever way possible, having a fond taste for the hard-working employees, and is probably in the direct employ of Human Resources, but obeys the business manager, operations manager, service level, and any other supervisor who chooses to harness its power). We were in cue as usual Wednesday night, but the supervisor in charge had an extremely low level of competence, “when is that ever a surprise), and thus didn’t realize that Andrew was in the wrong split, and consequently, wasn’t taking as many phone calls as the rest of us. So, said supervisor takes the logical course of action, and brings the matter to the attention of Andrew’s supervisor. After all, we can’t have acting supervisors being shown as incompetent, can we? As a result of the acting supervisor going to Andrew’s supervisor, Andrew was fired the next day. There were two supervisors who tried to come to his defense, but by the time they found out what was happening, crucifixion-on-the-down-low had already begun. But Andrew didn’t go like a lamb to the slaughter. When he cam back on the floor to get his stuff, he announced to every agent there that they need to watch their back, because Convergys has a knife ready for each of them too, and they have no problem sacrificing their employees in order to avoid looking idiotic, or better yet, better one man go than actually spend the time and effort to fix the system already in place. The human Resources director informed Andrew that he had two minutes to get off the floor. Andrew asked if it looked like he was dallying, and told the HRD that they could take his money away, but they weren’t getting his turkey sandwitches. The whole thing was tragic and funny at the same time. Andrew was a hard worker, and his not being there makes a difference. AFter all, when 85 percent or more of the other people there don’t work, it’s hard enough. But when yo lose a hard worker on top of that, it gets even more difficult. Andrew says he’s willing to take me back and forth to work, for which I am very appreciative. But, apparently, the Human Resources director cursed Andrew with the power of the Bohican, because when he was taking me home from work Thursday night, his radiator blew. As a result I’ll be cabbing it back and forth, and everywhere else I need to go, until further notice. very very expensive. On top of that, I was informed by my supervisor, (who happens to be the same acting supervisor from the story just told), on Friday that “we’re having a pot-luck” on Tuesday. How the hell am I supposed to provide something, and have enough for sixteen people, given the current situation? Any ideas would be appreciated, as well as overall suggestions. Everybody take care.

As the subject says, this has been an interesting one. Andrew got bitten by the Bohican, (for those who don’t know, “Bohican” is an acronym for “Bend Over Here It Comes Again”, signifying the monster that inhabits Convergys, seeking to get any employee, and screw them in whatever way possible, having a fond taste for the hard-working employees, and is probably in the direct employ of Human Resources, but obeys the business manager, operations manager, service level, and any other supervisor who chooses to harness its power). We were in cue as usual Wednesday night, but the supervisor in charge had an extremely low level of competence, “when is that ever a surprise), and thus didn’t realize that Andrew was in the wrong split, and consequently, wasn’t taking as many phone calls as the rest of us. So, said supervisor takes the logical course of action, and brings the matter to the attention of Andrew’s supervisor. After all, we can’t have acting supervisors being shown as incompetent, can we? As a result of the acting supervisor going to Andrew’s supervisor, Andrew was fired the next day. There were two supervisors who tried to come to his defense, but by the time they found out what was happening, crucifixion-on-the-down-low had already begun. But Andrew didn’t go like a lamb to the slaughter. When he cam back on the floor to get his stuff, he announced to every agent there that they need to watch their back, because Convergys has a knife ready for each of them too, and they have no problem sacrificing their employees in order to avoid looking idiotic, or better yet, better one man go than actually spend the time and effort to fix the system already in place. The human Resources director informed Andrew that he had two minutes to get off the floor. Andrew asked if it looked like he was dallying, and told the HRD that they could take his money away, but they weren’t getting his turkey sandwitches. The whole thing was tragic and funny at the same time. Andrew was a hard worker, and his not being there makes a difference. AFter all, when 85 percent or more of the other people there don’t work, it’s hard enough. But when yo lose a hard worker on top of that, it gets even more difficult. Andrew says he’s willing to take me back and forth to work, for which I am very appreciative. But, apparently, the Human Resources director cursed Andrew with the power of the Bohican, because when he was taking me home from work Thursday night, his radiator blew. As a result I’ll be cabbing it back and forth, and everywhere else I need to go, until further notice. very very expensive. On top of that, I was informed by my supervisor, (who happens to be the same acting supervisor from the story just told), on Friday that “we’re having a pot-luck” on Tuesday. How the hell am I supposed to provide something, and have enough for sixteen people, given the current situation? Any ideas would be appreciated, as well as overall suggestions. Everybody take care.

As the subject says, this has been an interesting one. Andrew got bitten by the Bohican, (for those who don’t know, “Bohican” is an acronym for “Bend Over Here It Comes Again”, signifying the monster that inhabits Convergys, seeking to get any employee, and screw them in whatever way possible, having a fond taste for the hard-working employees, and is probably in the direct employ of Human Resources, but obeys the business manager, operations manager, service level, and any other supervisor who chooses to harness its power). We were in cue as usual Wednesday night, but the supervisor in charge had an extremely low level of competence, “when is that ever a surprise), and thus didn’t realize that Andrew was in the wrong split, and consequently, wasn’t taking as many phone calls as the rest of us. So, said supervisor takes the logical course of action, and brings the matter to the attention of Andrew’s supervisor. After all, we can’t have acting supervisors being shown as incompetent, can we? As a result of the acting supervisor going to Andrew’s supervisor, Andrew was fired the next day. There were two supervisors who tried to come to his defense, but by the time they found out what was happening, crucifixion-on-the-down-low had already begun. But Andrew didn’t go like a lamb to the slaughter. When he cam back on the floor to get his stuff, he announced to every agent there that they need to watch their back, because Convergys has a knife ready for each of them too, and they have no problem sacrificing their employees in order to avoid looking idiotic, or better yet, better one man go than actually spend the time and effort to fix the system already in place. The human Resources director informed Andrew that he had two minutes to get off the floor. Andrew asked if it looked like he was dallying, and told the HRD that they could take his money away, but they weren’t getting his turkey sandwitches. The whole thing was tragic and funny at the same time. Andrew was a hard worker, and his not being there makes a difference. AFter all, when 85 percent or more of the other people there don’t work, it’s hard enough. But when yo lose a hard worker on top of that, it gets even more difficult. Andrew says he’s willing to take me back and forth to work, for which I am very appreciative. But, apparently, the Human Resources director cursed Andrew with the power of the Bohican, because when he was taking me home from work Thursday night, his radiator blew. As a result I’ll be cabbing it back and forth, and everywhere else I need to go, until further notice. very very expensive. On top of that, I was informed by my supervisor, (who happens to be the same acting supervisor from the story just told), on Friday that “we’re having a pot-luck” on Tuesday. How the hell am I supposed to provide something, and have enough for sixteen people, given the current situation? Any ideas would be appreciated, as well as overall suggestions. Everybody take care.

Well folks, the moment we’ve all been waiting for arrived last night at
work. It was finally my turn to leave the floor for some quiet time, except
I had to send myself away, because it was after 11:00, and there are no
supervisors on the floor at that point, or at least not any who give a shit.
Not that most of them give a shit, but, you know, it’s relative. Category
three verbal melt down, that had the potential to turn in to a break-things
situation, and would have if I hadn’t went outside to cool off, which only
slightly worked. I was still extremely pissed when I walked back in, but
levels were no longer critical. Here’s an excerpt from an email I sent last
night, which was closer to the events, and which I composed while I was
still pissed:

I got in from work a little while ago. I fucking hate that god damned job.
I hate the fact that nothing ever fucking works right around that den of
trash, and I hate the fact that half the fucking people that work there
don’t do any work, and I hate the fact that I’m getting screwed every chance
I fucking turn, along with the other people who work hard. I hate stupid,
trashy people. And I hate rude fucking idiot pharmacists who think they’re
better than everybody else, and rude fucking members, and idiotic
supervisors, and listening to the same ghetto shit every god damned day, and
headsets, and Americans who can’t speak English because they were too lazy
to finish high school and decided to go have tons of kids instead, and the
fact that they’re aren’t any better job options around here, and the
headaches, and the tention, and this shit town, and this entire fucking
region, and customer service, and Express Scripts, and Convergys, and poorly
maintained computers over which I have no control, and fat-ass former
janitors-turned-network-admins who don’t know how to do their fucking jobs,
and even if they did, wouldn’t because they’re too busy fucking agents, and
the fact that I have to continue putting up with this shit because I have to
pay my bills, at least until they decide to lay us off because they can’t
manage to get a permanent fucking contract with anybody, because upper
management can’t figure out how to run a business professionally, and the
fucking business manager brags about the drugs he does, and Hr pukes who
walk around trying to find people to fire, while totally overlooking the
people who put pharmacists on hold, and release incoming calls, and give out
wrong information, because they’re too stupid or lazy to do any real work,
and so they can finish their little talent shows because they happen to be
the right skin color. I’d like to kick something, or break something right
now. I’d kick a hole in the wall, but I don’t have the wherewithal to fix
it, and that would be really irresponsible. I should be asleep, but I’m too
pissed off. And I have to do this all over again tomorrow, and wednesday,
and Thursday. By the time Friday gets here, I will have worked nine days
straight, with no overtime pay. It’s one thing if you decide to do that
because you want the extra money, but for them to do it, and then pay you
the same rates is re-god-damned-diculous. Fuck them. Our supervisors get
unlimited paid-time-off, unlimmited sick days, and most of them don’t even
do any fucking work. Fuck them too. People better be glad I’m not world
fucking dictator. Otherwise, the state of california would be turned in to
a camp for all the stupid people to be segregated from the rest of society.
People who don’t bathe, or who bathe in cheap perfume and/or cologne, would
go to the same place.

Well folks, the moment we’ve all been waiting for arrived last night at
work. It was finally my turn to leave the floor for some quiet time, except
I had to send myself away, because it was after 11:00, and there are no
supervisors on the floor at that point, or at least not any who give a shit.
Not that most of them give a shit, but, you know, it’s relative. Category
three verbal melt down, that had the potential to turn in to a break-things
situation, and would have if I hadn’t went outside to cool off, which only
slightly worked. I was still extremely pissed when I walked back in, but
levels were no longer critical. Here’s an excerpt from an email I sent last
night, which was closer to the events, and which I composed while I was
still pissed:

I got in from work a little while ago. I fucking hate that god damned job.
I hate the fact that nothing ever fucking works right around that den of
trash, and I hate the fact that half the fucking people that work there
don’t do any work, and I hate the fact that I’m getting screwed every chance
I fucking turn, along with the other people who work hard. I hate stupid,
trashy people. And I hate rude fucking idiot pharmacists who think they’re
better than everybody else, and rude fucking members, and idiotic
supervisors, and listening to the same ghetto shit every god damned day, and
headsets, and Americans who can’t speak English because they were too lazy
to finish high school and decided to go have tons of kids instead, and the
fact that they’re aren’t any better job options around here, and the
headaches, and the tention, and this shit town, and this entire fucking
region, and customer service, and Express Scripts, and Convergys, and poorly
maintained computers over which I have no control, and fat-ass former
janitors-turned-network-admins who don’t know how to do their fucking jobs,
and even if they did, wouldn’t because they’re too busy fucking agents, and
the fact that I have to continue putting up with this shit because I have to
pay my bills, at least until they decide to lay us off because they can’t
manage to get a permanent fucking contract with anybody, because upper
management can’t figure out how to run a business professionally, and the
fucking business manager brags about the drugs he does, and Hr pukes who
walk around trying to find people to fire, while totally overlooking the
people who put pharmacists on hold, and release incoming calls, and give out
wrong information, because they’re too stupid or lazy to do any real work,
and so they can finish their little talent shows because they happen to be
the right skin color. I’d like to kick something, or break something right
now. I’d kick a hole in the wall, but I don’t have the wherewithal to fix
it, and that would be really irresponsible. I should be asleep, but I’m too
pissed off. And I have to do this all over again tomorrow, and wednesday,
and Thursday. By the time Friday gets here, I will have worked nine days
straight, with no overtime pay. It’s one thing if you decide to do that
because you want the extra money, but for them to do it, and then pay you
the same rates is re-god-damned-diculous. Fuck them. Our supervisors get
unlimited paid-time-off, unlimmited sick days, and most of them don’t even
do any fucking work. Fuck them too. People better be glad I’m not world
fucking dictator. Otherwise, the state of california would be turned in to
a camp for all the stupid people to be segregated from the rest of society.
People who don’t bathe, or who bathe in cheap perfume and/or cologne, would
go to the same place.