Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Nice Guys Make Me Barf; GoogleMaps on Xkcd

It's that time of year again. The time when I stop what I'm doing, ponder on what I have achieved so far, and give thanks that there are no people reporting to me. The time of performance reviews in offices across the country.

At my current place, we are lucky to only have one a year. At my old job, BigPaper, we had three, two semi-annual ones and something called Personal Development review. I usually got off easy, though there was a time once when I walked unsuspectingly into a mid-year review and was handed a notice saying I had been put on a six-month probation for no good reason. The guy who did it left the company shortly thereafter, so his motives still remain a mystery. This was the second worst review I've ever had. My worst one was the one I had with my last supervisor at BigPaper, Andy the nice guy. (I wrote about Andy here.)

To say that Andy was a nice guy was an understatement. Andy was a pushover of epic proportions that made me look like a cold bitch with balls of steel (if bitches had balls). Problem with being a pushover when you have people reporting to you is that you don't just let everybody walk all over yourself. You also let everybody walk all over your people. That's why I didn't like working for Andy. But at least I expected the review to be short and sweet. True to his nice-guy nature, Andy scheduled the review to be held at lunch hour at a nearby restaurant. Lunch on the company. I found it a sweet gesture.

The two of us sat down in a corner and spread our papers around. I ordered meat and asked for medium well. Even though I know rare meat is tha shit, I never order it because I cannot handle it. It makes me physically sick. Having ordered, Andy and I went back to my review, which was as good as I'd expect it from my Andy. In my turn, I told him what a high intellect he had and suggested that he join the local Mensa, as I thought he'd enjoy the activities. (I still think he should go for it.) Some thirty, forty minutes later our food came. With some difficulty, I cut into the steak and was surprised to find it was gushing blood.

"Is medium well supposed to be bloody?" I asked Andy. "You think maybe I should send it back?" I didn't want to do it myself, because Andy was the one paying, and it was, after all, my work review. I didn't want to undermine his authority by sending back the food he had paid for, in the middle of a business meeting that he had called. You can tell I'm somewhat of a pushover myself.

Looking over at my half-cut meat, Andy squirmed, proclaimed the meat good, and very enthusiastically showed that he didn't want to start a row with the restaurant by sending food back. Oh well, thought I, it's his call.

We finished my review, both chewing absent-mindedly on our food. I started feeling queasy shortly before we got into Andy's car to drive back. Barely made it to the office, thanked Andy for the review and the meal, made a mad dash for the bathroom, and with alarming speed upchucked Andy's gift.

Moral of the story, never let a nice guy buy you food, and, if you do, grow a pair and send it back yourself if it sucks. Even if he doesn't want you to; even if it will get you dinged on your next review. Odds are, nice guy won't last till your next year's review anyway.


Also, today's xkcd comic is so good, I just have to share. We just came back from a camping trip at a new place and had to get directions off the Internet, too. We did however manage to avoid the spectral wolf this time.

The Goldie has spoken at 7:08 PM

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