Celebrating Five Years of Wage Slavery

DH received his thank-you-for-not-quitting-or-getting-yourself-fired packet in the mail today, to celebrate five years of working for the work-11-hours-a-day-plus-nights-and-weekends-for-a- 3-percent-raise-each-year-while-you-make- someone-else-rich company.

Can you feel the excitement in the air? Isn't it palpable? I'm most disgusted with DH's Dilbert-like job and company, he's even got a tweaked pointy-haired boss. The boss man's a few circuts shy of a chip, and I'm not kidding.

For working like a dog till he's numb and then getting told that his boss can't account for all the time DH says he puts in, DH gets a plaque for his office wall, a free tshirt with the company logo on it, and gets to pick from some flyers a not-so-shabby gift. You can choose from jewelry, watches, electronics, or kitchen stuff. I tried to tempt him with the bread machine (as if) but once he saw the home theater system, that was it. He's wanted one for ever. I'm glad he can get something he's really wanted but won't get for himself. He's earned it.

The only good news with DH's job lately is that he's going to be switching job positions soon so that he'll be doing what he's actually trained to do (and likes and is good at) and will have a different boss that he's pretty sure he can work well with. Hopefully the work load will lessen to something less like a sweatshop and more like a real 9 to 5 job.

All opinions expressed are my own and do not reflect or are in anyway related my DH's attitude, opinion, or whatever towards his position or his employer. (In case someone from his work is reading this, which is not likely, but one never knows.)