Being Productive

So we got this email in the office last week that basically told us two things. First, we’re not being productive enough. Second, the company is under budget for the year so we’re not getting raises this year. Well, we might get a raise if the company can make up what we’re down in budget. No one’s holding their breath. The solution to that...are you ready...work more hours, at the same pay so that we’ll be more productive.

Then we had a meeting to hear about all this that’s going on and it started with the big wig in HR telling us that the company is putting out as much or more than last year with 33 less employees, yet we’re not productive. Hold on, that doesn’t make sense to me. So we’re doing as much or more with less and we’re not productive? Sounds to me like what we’re doing is 2+2=5 but what the company is telling us is that what we’re doing is 2+2=3.

Previously we’ve worked a 36.5 hour work week, which has been great, don’t get me wrong. Now, to be more productive, we’ll be working a 40 hour work week (not counting lunch breaks). But to make us feel all warm and fuzzy, the company is instituting flex time, of a sort. It’s not a full flex, so I couldn’t work 10 hours Monday through Thursday and take off Friday, but I could work 6-3 instead of 8-5 or a variation there abouts, as long as the deparment is covered from 10-2. All this and no merit increases, so I don’t get my measly 3% this year when the cost of everything is climbing.

This announcement came on Friday and takes effect today. Since we got this email, I don’t think my productivity has improved that much. I also don’t think it’s a good idea to make the staff all disgruntled and what not.

With the family to support, and no raise, that’s going to hurt. Now I could take some more hours at the library, but then that’s less time at home, and I’m already not home to see my son two nights a week and gone all day Saturday as well. Plus I think my lovely, beautiful, deadly wife would kill me (the insurance payoff just might be worth it). What’s a guy to do? I know, I’ll start selling organs on the black market!

That’s about it for my good news. How about the rest of you?

Since Everyone Else is Doing it

I figured I'd do it too. This wordle thing is pretty neat. Here's mine from the latest story to be sent for submission "Killing Time on a Friday Night"

And It's Off

I just emailed my latest story to The Escapist and we'll see what happens there. They're having a fiction issue in September, and I figured why not go for it. I had a story that was mostly done and within their word limit (only 2,000) words. So I polished that off and I think it's good. Special thanks to fellow UCFer Vince for the comments and a new take on the ending. I really think that made it work better. I've decided to post the story after the cut. Now it's gone and I have no control over it. I've said it before and I'll say it again, in the words of Ned Flanders, 'God speed little doodle.'

Monday Monotany Madness: Mr. Softee

Mr. Softee

Mr. Softee is a crafty fellow. His one goal in life is to dish out soft serve to the people of the world. His specialty is chocolate. He is such a crafty fellow that he continues to dish out soft serve, long after you don't want any more. He presents it in such a way that is impossible to refuse. Eventually, you get to the point where the mere scent of more chocolate soft serve will make you want to wretch. The only solution is to clean it up quickly and hope that you can contain him before he tries to give you more.

Funtastic Friday Follies: Grubbin

Grubbin

The first time the guys asked Jack to “go grubbin” he couldn’t believe it. He was walking through the hall on the way to fourth period, when Chet asked him. Jack stammered out a surprised yes, and Chet told him where to meet everyone after school.

Jack was dumbfounded. He had heard the cool kids talking about grubbin before, but he never thought they would ask him to come along. Maybe it was his recognition from the school for almost single-handedly winning the district’s Super Scholastic Competition, maybe it was one of his articles in the school’s paper (his expose on the history of the school’s oldest rivalry had been on the front page), maybe one of the cool kids found out his dad was a big wig at one of the country’s top video game companies.

He flushed with pride and couldn’t sit still until the end of the day when he was to meet everyone just off campus. At 3:30 the bell rang and a very excited and anxious Jack crammed his books in his bag and then walked to the 7/11 down the street. Sure enough, not ten minutes after he got there, just long enough for Jack to think this might have just been a prank, Chet and his buddies, Chris and Tom, pulled up in his cherry red convertible. The top was down and the music blaring. Chet whipped the car around to where Jack was standing and waved him in.

Chris and Tom sat in the back, and each gave Jack a hearty slap on the back when he sat down.

“You ever been grubbin before,” Tom asked.

Jack shook his head and they were off. They drove past the town limits and out into the hilly and forested countryside. When they pulled off into a forest preserve, Chet turned the music down. At the same time, Tom and Chris quieted down as well.

“We don’t want to attract any attention,” Chet said. “You know grubbin isn’t exactly legal.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I know.”

“You’re cool right,” Chris said. “We don’t want you to go snitching or anything.”

“He’s cool,” Chet said.

They parked the car and got out, and then Chet led them off into the woods. When they came to a large rotting log he held up his hands and they stopped.

“This is were the prime grubs are,” he said.

Then he reached into the log and pulled out a handful of fat, wriggling grubs and some partially rotten wood. He picked out one from the group, the fattest, and blew the wood particles off of it. Then, with a brief look to the others, he slurped it into his mouth and began to chew. Within moments the enzymes in the grub were taking effect and he began to chuckle at nothing. Chris and Tom didn’t wait, but dug into the log themselves. Jack was still hesitating and so Chet blew off a grub and tossed it to him.

“Go on, eat it.”

Jack looked at the white, writing thing in his hands and then popped it into his mouth before he could think twice. He bit down hard, and the bitter juices flooded his mouth. He nearly gagged, but then he swallowed the fluid and could feel its effects take hold. Colors were brighter, the world seemed to swim, and suddenly everything was funny. He took another, and another, and soon he was in a euphoric stupor. That was when the others snuck off, unnoticed. Some time later, Jack looked up and found them gone. He went looking for them, and when he stumbled out of the woods Chet’s car was no longer in the parking lot. Instead was a police cruiser.

“Son,” said the burly police officer. “Have you been grubbing?”

“N-no sir,” he said, and wiped grub juice from his chin. Then he took another step and nearly fell over.

“I think you’re going to have to come with me. Grubbing is a serious offense.”

And with that, Jack was loaded into the cruiser and taken away.

I'm Boned

Picked up from Random Michelle, the Animal Attack survival test. Watch out Racoons, you're number's up! Anything else, well, lets just say 'may the best vertibrate win.' Except, apparently, when it comes to alligators.

Brought To You By Adult Toy

Reading Test

There might be times when you say to yourself, hey, the combination of my eyeballs and my brain are pretty good at reading and comprehending stuff. In fact, they're reading this blog post right now. What if they were good at reading other stuff too? Say, a 1,200 word story that I'm just about done with but looking for a critique before I send it off with all of my hopes and whatnot heaped up on its little shoulder.

So yeah, I've got this little story that I want to send out for an open submission, but I don't want to bug the people at work, my wife isn't going to give me much of a critique, blah blah blah. I'd like to get a fresh perspective from a new/different audience.

I'm going for funny with this one, which I'm told I do reasonably well. If you're intested, (it's short, so it wont take a lot of time) let me know and I can email it to you or something.