Turning my ills into art

I am Cubicle Jones, a nondescript office drone, stuck in a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad job. I'd just quit, but that means I don't get unemployment. I am the most miserable I have ever been and feel like I may never trust another job again to treat me well, recognize me for the valuable person I am, appreciate the effort I put in...

Yes, it's true. I am in an abusive relationship with my job.

But, as I mentioned, I can't afford to quit. I also can't afford to go to therapy because the stellar health insurance offered by my company doesn't cover it. So it's kind of like wanting to find a new romantic partner because the one I'm with should be in prison, but everyone else is married. They could just take me in/find me a temp job, but they just don't have the room/aren't hiring. But they're really sorry, so hang in there!

When I took this job, I was desperate to get work - as many of us have been in the past few years - and didn't do the proper research beforehand. Had I exercised a bit more discretion and better judgement (the way I do with lovers), I would have found out that I was about to take a job at a company that was actually scamming people, ripping them off hundreds, thousands of dollars a pop. The pay is bad, the commute is horrible, the insurance is terrible, the work actually hurts people. I can't even put money into a 401(k) because I need whatever money I can get in my account.

They give us holidays then take them back less than a week ahead of time, so if we've made plans for that day, we have to cancel them or take an unpaid day off. Happy Holidays!

We have no paid sick days because we have to accumulate them per month, something which was not mentioned in the manual I signed, to which they consistently refer when they get up my ass about being late, something about which I have stopped caring completely. I don't know why I have to adhere to the manual if they don't, but hey, I don't work for the department that makes them any money, so I should have realized I was of no worth to them from the beginning.

This company is run by a convicted felon. I know he's a convicted felon because he regularly jokes about it, including when he said he couldn't vote for the president because he was a convicted felon. What a card! He shows up whenever he wants and runs about 12 other "businesses" in addition to this one. Two of them are restaurants that have gotten horrible reviews in the local press. He's asked us (and printed out fliers!) to go online and write good reviews about the restaurants and then we will get coupons for said horrible restaurants. I believe that's bribery, but I'm not sure just because I'd think bribery would include an attractive payoff and not coupons to horribly reviewed restaurants.

He struts around the office like the self-important prick that he is (in his manshorts during the summer), checking in on all his minions via the monitors in his office. There are cameras lining the walls of the office, watching every inch of the place. There are also hand scans to get in and out of the office. The bathrooms are outside of the office. So everyone needs to punch out to take a piss. Seriously. It's because of this, as well as the overcrowding, that I now get sick at least three times a year instead of my usual annual autumn throat thing. If you're wondering if I work for NASA or some high-security government agency that would require such high security, you are sadly mistaken. In order to protect myself, I can't tell you where I work, but I can assure you that there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for such high security measures. My only theory is that the guy who runs this place is just supremely paranoid and high strung while trying to pass himself off as some sort of easygoing frat boy. More like Scrooge McDuck.

This job has caused me to develop a bad spending habit. Every purchase is a vain attempt to introduce a positive change, something new, something pleasing and satisfying, as I spend hours and hours of my life wasting away and getting dumber. I have had to run out of the office to cry and cut myself more often than I used to when I first developed that habit as a teenager. I drink more than I used to and sometimes depend on it at the end of the day. I've had days where I could not bring myself to come in at all, and every single morning requires every ounce of effort and fortitude to just get out of bed to go to this hellhole.

So stop telling me to be grateful for my job. It sucks. I'm not happy. I am fortunate in many ways including relatively low debt levels, a supportive family - with whom I still live because of the "salary" I make - amazing friends, and creative pursuits that make me thrive. But the fact is, I spend many hours of the week and attempt to make money doing something truly awful and damaging to others, and I do not have to like it.

I was recently told to turn this despicable hot mess into art. It is certainly not the first blog about evil office BS, but guess what? I need to get it out of my brain and my soul, and other people need to know that it's okay to hate your job.

So welcome to Tales of the Underemployed by Cubicle Jones!