Wednesday, September 13, 2006

You're my boy, Ace... You're my boy

There is this Chinese guy at my work named Ace. He cant really speak english too well but he's a nice guy and a hard worker. At first I thought he was unflappable as no matter what workplace dilemma we encountered he would always respond with a kind of mindless confidence "eeeerrrr, should be okay".

Hootch: Ace, a shareholder is kicking up a shit storm cuz today is payable day and he hasn't received his multi-million dollar dividend cheque!!!

Ace: Eeeerrrr, should be okay.


Hootch: Ace, the office is on fire and your dick is dipped in gasoline!!

Ace: Eeeerrr, should be okay.

Now, I'm not so sure if it was that he's unflappable or that he just couldn't understand what was actually going on in the office. But really... who cares? Ace brought the intangibles. He was always in a good mood; he was always willing to stay after hours so no one else had to; he made chinese food and coffee runs during the lunch hour for anyone who asked; and on occasion he even provided comic relief - like the time he fell asleep at his desk and we flicked elastics at him from across the office.

Anyway, last week Ace got canned. It was complete bullshit. I had and still have a sneaking suspicion the floor manager is looking to downsize our department. My team leader is the greatest and I think she would go to bat for anyone in our department, but once the floor manager got it in her head to reduce staff there was little my team leader could do.

The floor manager, who we will call TakeAFuckinValliumLady, is this completely insane woman who is covering the maternity leave of the real floor manager. TakeAFuckinValliumLady is trying to impress the higher-ups by "trimming the fat" in our department. Of course she'll never admit this. She says "Ace is no longer with the company because of certain performance issues".

Bull-fuckin-shit. Listen, lady, you're the fuckin boss, alright. If you say this person has to get fired - then I guess that person has to get fired. But dont piss in my mouth and tell me its fucking apple juice, alright. I know what the score is. Last month when you walked around our department asking everyone "how long does it take you to perform your work responsibilities for each client we have on a daily basis"? I fucking knew then you were doing the calculations to determine how many people you can fire while still maintaining relatively the same department service quality by increasing everyone else's work. You think we're fucking idiots? Why do you think I told you 30 minutes per client when in actuality its more like 10.

I know my head is also on the chopping block. And I know there is the possibility you read my blog. But this had to be said.

Okay... well I guess me admitting my work takes me 10 minutes didn't actually have to be said but you get the drift.

This one was for you Ace. I feel bad cuz you got the shaft. The only thing you really did wrong at work was take too long to get me my chicken fried rice. Later, buddy.


Elaine said...

Poor poor ace! That sucks he had to be booted like that!

have you thought about actually grinding up some valium and putting it in her coffee.

That way she can just be dranksomevaliumwithmycoffeeandi'mfeelingfinelady..

okay, that's way too long of a name, but after a drink of valium coffee, she's not gonna care what you call her!

IDigHootchAndCootch said...

Thats actually a good idea. Me and NewCootch were just gonna hork in it, but the valium bit may be more entertaining.

Freak Magnet said...

elastics? Is that what you crazy kids are calling rubber bands?

And I feel bad for Ace. But what goes around comes around.

Me said...

Ah, work...isn't it grand?

sammyray said...

Poor Ace. Don't worry, though, he'll be alright. He's Oriental.

Hmmm...what does that mean, exactly?