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That was sarcasm. I hate work, but more deeply than that, I am beginning to resent myself (is that possible?) for not getting another job already.
Seriously, I was set adrift over six months ago, and here I am barely even trying to get a new job. Sure, I half-heartedly apply for new jobs sporadically, but I'm not making the effort I need to be making. Oh well, time to bitch about my boss.
As many of you may know, my PD - Chad, Professional Douchebag - quit. Everyone was overjoyed to see him leave. Except for the mitigating factor in my case that, with him gone, my APD - Tammy - would now be allowed to run rampant.
My life continues to suck at the station (still my fault), but at least in this past week, I was treated to a real great insight into how her brain ticks.
Generally, she is pretty incompetent, a personality trait masked by her stunning inability to take criticism, assistance, or just really even be wrong. She's the type of person who will, when confronted with evidence that proves her to be a liar, dispute that the evidence even exists.
Tammy -- "There's no coffee in the building"
Others -- "I'm actually drinking coffee. Made in the kitchen. Of this building."
Tammy -- "No you're not."
Anyway, recently i had to voicetrack a shift for the weekend - a task made nearly impossible when the walk-up ramps for the songs are not listed on the music log. Yet, the ramp times are in Selector (the music scheduling program), and are transferred to the Scott Studios (the on-air audio computer). Clearly, if this information can make it to the Scott and is listed in Selector, it could be printed out on the music log.
Tammy denies this. This goes on for months. Every station in the country has ramp times on their logs. but, when I need to get the ramp times to voice track, I am forced to ask another jock to see if they randomly remember what it is, or go to Tammy and have her individually pull up the song in Selector.
Stick with me. It gets good soon.
This time when I need them, I ask her sometimes fiancee/boyfriend to check her Selector for me (she is doing a contest in the studio). He agrees, on the condition that I don't tell Tammy that he helped me. (She'll get mad that he touched her computer. Remember, they're going to get married - and he can't touch her computer.)
Anyway, after he's done, I reiterate that it's stupid that the log doesn't print out the times, since the computer clearly has the information attached to every song. He agrees, and after 30 seconds of investigation, fixes the problem.
Yes. 30 seconds to fix an impossible problem.
Oh, it gets much better.
I have to swear to secrecy that I will not tell her that he fixed it. (an oath I take very seriously as you can tell by reading it on my website) At first, I can't believe that she is so fragile that she can't be told BY HER FIANCEE that he was able to fix a long running problem. Then, I remember that we're talking about Tammy.
We agree to pretend that when Tammy sees that it's fixed, we'll play it off as a random computer thing, so her puny little ego won't be crushed. I am stunned, but still able to walk. I do my voicetracking and leave.
On Monday, she prints out the first log since the change with the ramp times displayed. She doesn't notice it.
On Tuesday, she comes into the studio during Rick and Bubba (my shift) and drops off the logs.
Now it's time for the payoff.
She is grinning. Grinning in that glow of self-satisfaction that only she can muster and that stirs in me violent emotions that I must repress for fear of significant jail time.
Tammy -- "Look. The logs have the ramp times on them! Pretty cool, huh!"
I ponder my response. Do I tell her that this should have been fixed months ago and she's an idiot, or that I saw them being fixed by the love of her life who doesn't trust her?
Me -- "Wow." (I choose disinterest. Generally it helps dampen the chance of further conversation.)
Tammy -- "Yeah. It was pretty tough, but I knew that you wanted it - so I called the Selector people and we worked it out over the phone. It took awhile, but I wanted to make sure it got done right. Aren't you proud of me?"
HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!!!!!!
Let us recount how many reasons to despise her come to focus in this little conversational nugget.
1. She's too incompetent to accomplish simple tasks.
2. Her boyfriend/fiancee has been burned by her irrational flip-outs so often that he hides things from her rather than correct her.
3. She's extremely proud of a minor accomplishment - (like "Hey, I didn't slam my head in the car door! Yay for me!")
4. Oh yeah -- SHE TOOK CREDIT FOR SOMETHING SHE NOT ONLY DIDN'T DO, BUT SOMETHING SHE CANNOT EVEN EXPLAIN!!!!
5. On top of that, she created a whole idiotic backstory to her lie! Not just I fixed it - but that it was through her persistance and desire that it got done.
6. Note the last line of the quote above. Note the neediness that seeps out of every pore. You may also note that I never grant her that satisfaction. That's probably why she likes me so much (others always tell me that she speaks glowingly of me).
7. Re-read number 4. Ponder over it while you realize that as she was doing this I knew she was lying. As the lie came out of her mouth. It was so delicious, I could taste it.
I'll stop at 7, but I could continue.
Needless to say, I inquired further about just how she did it. As I asked more questions, she became visibly uncomfortable and started muttering about configuration files. It was a fascinating display of how the lying mind works. I knew she hadn't thought the lie through, but she would lie to the end to protect it, so I kept prodding - making her come up with more and more twisted backstory.
I wish I had a crescendo to end with, but I don't really have one. I feel that this long post doesn't fully encompass her jaw-dropping ability to lie. I hope some of it's raw power was transmitted, and I'd appreciate feedback.
I'd have to say that this is one of my all-time favorite stories. When I do leave this place (hope is fading), I will tell it to all that I encounter.
Good night.
P.S. Tammy and her fiancee no longer share an office and seem to be fading. They rarely cross each other's path at work and I believe the original wedding date has passed.
Seriously, I was set adrift over six months ago, and here I am barely even trying to get a new job. Sure, I half-heartedly apply for new jobs sporadically, but I'm not making the effort I need to be making. Oh well, time to bitch about my boss.
As many of you may know, my PD - Chad, Professional Douchebag - quit. Everyone was overjoyed to see him leave. Except for the mitigating factor in my case that, with him gone, my APD - Tammy - would now be allowed to run rampant.
My life continues to suck at the station (still my fault), but at least in this past week, I was treated to a real great insight into how her brain ticks.
Generally, she is pretty incompetent, a personality trait masked by her stunning inability to take criticism, assistance, or just really even be wrong. She's the type of person who will, when confronted with evidence that proves her to be a liar, dispute that the evidence even exists.
Tammy -- "There's no coffee in the building"
Others -- "I'm actually drinking coffee. Made in the kitchen. Of this building."
Tammy -- "No you're not."
Anyway, recently i had to voicetrack a shift for the weekend - a task made nearly impossible when the walk-up ramps for the songs are not listed on the music log. Yet, the ramp times are in Selector (the music scheduling program), and are transferred to the Scott Studios (the on-air audio computer). Clearly, if this information can make it to the Scott and is listed in Selector, it could be printed out on the music log.
Tammy denies this. This goes on for months. Every station in the country has ramp times on their logs. but, when I need to get the ramp times to voice track, I am forced to ask another jock to see if they randomly remember what it is, or go to Tammy and have her individually pull up the song in Selector.
Stick with me. It gets good soon.
This time when I need them, I ask her sometimes fiancee/boyfriend to check her Selector for me (she is doing a contest in the studio). He agrees, on the condition that I don't tell Tammy that he helped me. (She'll get mad that he touched her computer. Remember, they're going to get married - and he can't touch her computer.)
Anyway, after he's done, I reiterate that it's stupid that the log doesn't print out the times, since the computer clearly has the information attached to every song. He agrees, and after 30 seconds of investigation, fixes the problem.
Yes. 30 seconds to fix an impossible problem.
Oh, it gets much better.
I have to swear to secrecy that I will not tell her that he fixed it. (an oath I take very seriously as you can tell by reading it on my website) At first, I can't believe that she is so fragile that she can't be told BY HER FIANCEE that he was able to fix a long running problem. Then, I remember that we're talking about Tammy.
We agree to pretend that when Tammy sees that it's fixed, we'll play it off as a random computer thing, so her puny little ego won't be crushed. I am stunned, but still able to walk. I do my voicetracking and leave.
On Monday, she prints out the first log since the change with the ramp times displayed. She doesn't notice it.
On Tuesday, she comes into the studio during Rick and Bubba (my shift) and drops off the logs.
Now it's time for the payoff.
She is grinning. Grinning in that glow of self-satisfaction that only she can muster and that stirs in me violent emotions that I must repress for fear of significant jail time.
Tammy -- "Look. The logs have the ramp times on them! Pretty cool, huh!"
I ponder my response. Do I tell her that this should have been fixed months ago and she's an idiot, or that I saw them being fixed by the love of her life who doesn't trust her?
Me -- "Wow." (I choose disinterest. Generally it helps dampen the chance of further conversation.)
Tammy -- "Yeah. It was pretty tough, but I knew that you wanted it - so I called the Selector people and we worked it out over the phone. It took awhile, but I wanted to make sure it got done right. Aren't you proud of me?"
HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!!!!!!
Let us recount how many reasons to despise her come to focus in this little conversational nugget.
1. She's too incompetent to accomplish simple tasks.
2. Her boyfriend/fiancee has been burned by her irrational flip-outs so often that he hides things from her rather than correct her.
3. She's extremely proud of a minor accomplishment - (like "Hey, I didn't slam my head in the car door! Yay for me!")
4. Oh yeah -- SHE TOOK CREDIT FOR SOMETHING SHE NOT ONLY DIDN'T DO, BUT SOMETHING SHE CANNOT EVEN EXPLAIN!!!!
5. On top of that, she created a whole idiotic backstory to her lie! Not just I fixed it - but that it was through her persistance and desire that it got done.
6. Note the last line of the quote above. Note the neediness that seeps out of every pore. You may also note that I never grant her that satisfaction. That's probably why she likes me so much (others always tell me that she speaks glowingly of me).
7. Re-read number 4. Ponder over it while you realize that as she was doing this I knew she was lying. As the lie came out of her mouth. It was so delicious, I could taste it.
I'll stop at 7, but I could continue.
Needless to say, I inquired further about just how she did it. As I asked more questions, she became visibly uncomfortable and started muttering about configuration files. It was a fascinating display of how the lying mind works. I knew she hadn't thought the lie through, but she would lie to the end to protect it, so I kept prodding - making her come up with more and more twisted backstory.
I wish I had a crescendo to end with, but I don't really have one. I feel that this long post doesn't fully encompass her jaw-dropping ability to lie. I hope some of it's raw power was transmitted, and I'd appreciate feedback.
I'd have to say that this is one of my all-time favorite stories. When I do leave this place (hope is fading), I will tell it to all that I encounter.
Good night.
P.S. Tammy and her fiancee no longer share an office and seem to be fading. They rarely cross each other's path at work and I believe the original wedding date has passed.