froodle: (bitch)
Woke up this morning, checked my online banking... My entire account has been cleared out, right up to the overdraft point. Based on the banks response when i called them, im optimistic that this will be sorted out without me being left broke and in ruinous debt forever, but damn. I Just spent the morning calling various companies, explaining what happened and cancelling my direct debits and ugh, so sucky. I also got panciky and locked one of my online accounts by entering the wrong details and the lady on the phone was so nice about it i almost started crying. Sorry, mbna lady. thanks for being so kind, and im sorry for making it awkward and weird.
froodle: (bitch)
Ugh and now i have a cold, 100% due to being forced to spend ninety excruciating minutes in an unheated tent in the middle of a waterlogged field during the pouring rain last friday, while a knobhead in a giant polyester shirt made us all watch a ridiculous video presentation in which he a) claimed falsely that we'd gone four years without any lost time injuries, b) followed that up with "four years - thats thirty months!" (no really, sigh) and c) managed to spell the THREE LETTER NAME of our parent company wrong.
froodle: (bitch)
My God, these idiots literally cannot help themselves.

So part of the ridiculous health and safety "culture" they fake at work, we have to make up - I mean, find - and report one hazard a month. The directors have straight up said it's a numbers game, that their rationale is that it everyone "finds" and "reports" a hazard, there won't be any hazards ever, nobody will have any accidents and we will continue having zero lost time injuries and a forced annual company picnic for the rest of eternity.

People who work in the office have a choice between only reporting real hazards when they occur and risk having the health and safety guy crawl up their ass about their numbers being down, or making up fake and/or petty hazards to report once a month to get the creepy sweater-vest wearing joke of a man to back off.

I usually go the fake/petty route, because the H&S guy is a lecherous boobtalker who never missed a chance to patronize or belittle female employees and at least this way I limit my contact to once a month. It's usually something along the lines of "I was making coffee and spilled some sugar granules, left unattended it might have attracted ants so I cleaned it up."

(Because cleaning up after yourself in a shared workspace is about health and safety and makimg sure nobody gets hurt in a tragic sugar accident, not about being a fucking grownup with consideration for others.)

Anyway, today he gets on the phone to all the supervisors, spluttering into his fucking polo shirt about how nobody's reported a hazard, boohoo now we will all die from deadly coffee granules, get a fucking job. So I'm like, okay, time for a bullshit hazard that is really just filling out a form that says "I did a basic workplace hygiene practice, YOUR JOB IS VALIDATED YOU ARGYLE PATTERNED PERV."

Here's the thing. I'm tall. I'm six foot tall, and a woman, and because of that, a lot of things are a little too low or short for me. I'm also left handed, dyspraxic, have legs just uneven enough to make me limp after a long day on my feet and am partially deaf in one ear. So as a rule, I'm a little bit clumsy. Not in any way that would affect my day to day - I walk everywhere and I've tended bar, waited tables and slung various forms of hot caffiene for a living multiple times, so its not like I'm Mister Fucking Bump from the Mr Men books over here.

And the sink in the ladies toilets is designed for women much smaller than me. Like, a lot smaller. The basin is actually a little lower than my crotch. To use it i either been forward so far my bum is actually blocking the door to one of the two cubicles - not great for me, presumably not great for anyone else using that cubicle who most likely doesn't want my rear end trapping them in the loo - and also hurts my back, or i stand straight and inevitably a few droplets of water end up on the floor around the sink.

And to be 100% clear, I always fucking dry them up because I am a goddamn grown-up who understands shared facilities, and the only reason anyone knows about this in the first place is because of this bullshit hazard reporting because I have to find something to fucking report each month, and funnily enough, I do wash my hands on a regular basis while in the office.

So I fill in this nonsense form and email it to this horrific bag of wasted skin, and I assume I'll hear no more from him for the next few weeks, huzzah.

And then, I get this emailed to me:

Hi (my name),
Thank you for this hazard , but can I remind you that you have submitted this particular hazard a number of times, please can you to be more careful when washing your hands in the future.
Many thanks
(an idiot)

And he has, for no good-faith reason I can fathom, copied in a random, high-ranking guy from our drafting/planning department. This other guy is perfectly nice from what I've seen, but what the fuck does he need to know about my handwashing travails?!

Excuse the fuck out of you. You asked for your stupid fucking hazard, I gave you your bullshit paperwork so you could pretend your existence has a purpose, and your response is to basically other me for shit I genuinely cannot help?!

So, I responded. And I copied in my supervisor because AM I FUCK letting this go unanswered.

Hi (dickhead),
I actually can’t help it as due to my height stooping to the small sink causes me back pain. I would also add I find it quite upsetting to be singled out in this manner for something I cannot help, especially as it is something I make right immediately.
Kind regards
(my name)

Like, where the fuck do you get off making me out to be some fucking failure who somehow doesn't know how to wash her fucking hands after almost thirty four years on this goddamn earth? How dare you fucking take a shot at me for trying to pretend you actually bring some worth to this company? HOW DARE YOU CRITICISE ME BECAUSE I'M A LITTLE TOO FUCKING BIG FOR THE WORLD AROUND ME YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE CUNT?!

So. Now I need to write a formal complaint and basically figure out the worksafe way of saying the above without dipping into the kind of name calling where I refer to him as a grotesque mound of protoplasm squeezed into a hideous argyle patterned vest like the world's most distressing display of yarn.

Which he is. But also a shitty human being and a really, really terrible professional.
froodle: (bitch)
Im just saying, if you give such a fuck about your company's health and safety record and the wellbeing of your precious and valued employees that you force them to attend a stupid mandatory picnic to "celebrate" your (falsified) zero lost time injuries streak, maybe consider putting some safeguards in place when your naked greed incites public protests outside the office, where your staff are trapped at ground zero with the unhappy public.
froodle: (bitch)
Today was a bad day

Since what happened, I've been... messed up. I feel afraid the majority of time, outside of work too but especially in the office.

To get to the toilets or to the kitchen or even to get out, I have to walk past my supervisors wide-windowed office and pull open an old fashioned fire door. This involves turning my back directly to him, and it makes my skin crawl to think he's looking at my back and legs and ass, at the way I hipcheck the door if my hands are full or the sway of my skirt if I'm in a hurry and moving fast.

So I don't leave my desk except at lunch, ever. I don't get a drink, or use the loo, or do anything except sit in the corner and try to hide behind my monitor whenever he or the finance manager comes in.

Because of how nebulous the "the way you look is unacceptable and you should know this" talk went, and the lack of specific guidance even after I asked for it, repeatedly, I still don't understand what I'm doing wrong.

The fact that I'm seeing people in the office in leggings and palazzo pants, belted tunic dress and cold shoulder tops and sundresses with bare legs and open toed shoes, makes it even harder. I see people shorter than me wearing midthigh dresses with nobody batting an eyelid.

And the reference to my breast size and the fact that my skirt length essentially boils down to the length of my legs, given that even at six foot mine come well below my mid-thigh, all just makes me think this is personal, and cruel, and I feel deliberately targeted.

And because I don't know what to change about how I dress, and because I can't change my height or my figure, I've basically been trying to protect myself by being The Best Worker Ever, the fastest, the most productive, the helpfulest and most accurate.

And for a start I know that doesnt work, because I was the best on a scale where it took three people, a private office and a dedicated team supervisor to replace me when I left my old role, and I left specifically because I was being bullied, by that self-same finance manager, only back then the problem was my performance, not my looks.

And secondly, i cant be the best on my current team because I have the least amount of experience of the four people in that role, because I'm terrified, and because the medication I now take to stop being a trembling nervous wreck at work makes me slower than my normal working speed.

And I sit there and I slog through my work and I watch as the others tick their way through various checklists and task sheets and they ask if I need help and I say no, thank you, everything is fine and under control and actually how about I take on some of your stuff because its so totally fine, because I don't want to look weak or useless or like im dragging the team down, even though I'm drowning, because I'm already that big-titted fuckhead who cant even dress herself so why make myself more of a useless dead weight?

And even that isn't true, because my actual work is done by the time we leave for the day, it's just that theirs is done sooner, but at four oclock I see all their ticks and none of mine and I feel sick inside.

Today at five I was updating some of the boards, ready for tomorrow, maybe two minutes work to go before I was done. The other two were packed up and had headed for the door, and stopped to ask if I was okay and did I need a hand.

And I didnt, I just had a handful of figures to write up, but I was suddenly terrified of being alone in that office, knowing that our creepy supervisor was next door. And I wanted to say, no, please stay, please dont leave me here by myself, I am so afraid.

And I said no, its fine, ill be along in a minute, have a great weekend, because if I had said that it would have been real, it would be out there in a way i couldnt take back, i would be that woman who was scared to be alone for two fucking minutes in a brightly lit office building, who needed her hand holding because her skirts are too short and her boobs are too big and I would be her forever, and I couldnt fucking take that on top of everything else.

So, yeah. Today was a bad day.
froodle: (bitch)
Ugh. The email for this year's shitty compulsory company picnic came round today, just reminding everyone that attendance is mandatory for anyone scheduled to work that day. They call it "health and safety family fun day" and encourage people to bring their young children (but not like, young grandchildren or kids over fourteen) and basically its to "celebrate" the fact that the company has gone so many days without a lost time injury and "we care about our employees so much so they go back safe to you, their families".

This is the fourth year Ive had to endure this shitshow and from the start Ive thought it was gross, overreaching and basically an excuse to force the staff to watch the higher ups indulge in a massive self congratulatory bukkake party.

The first two years it was held in the carpark out the back of the office (seriously) and the portaloos were right next to the bbq and i spent the whole time being like "please god someone get food poisoning", walking off if anyone tried to take my photo and rolling my eyes so hard i lost time during the speeches.

The third time it was held at this grotfest of a cricket club way out of town, so we had to get these piss stinking coaches there in order to bear witness to the cumsmeared antics on offer, and i was even less entralled given that id spent a month on sick leave earlier in the year and then transferred to a different department after our finance manager pushed me over the edge with bullying that went back to 2013. You can imagine how excited I was to sit through a presentation on how much the company cared and how the safety of its staff is "at the heart of everything we do" after being bullied so badly I developed a stutter and Trigger warning? ) having never had a speech impediment or self harmed before.

But now? After this? Ive got a supervisor and a department manager who straight up think the bodies of their female reports are up for discussion, im struggling to think through anti-anxiety meds and the left over fog of sleeping tablets because i feel so unsafe at work with the creepy predatory attitudes they demonstrated to me, and now i have to take time out of my working day to sit in a shithole clubhouse reeking of subpar buffet and watch these assholes straight up lie about their lti record when Im sat there FUCKING DEALING WITH A WORKPLACE INJURY TO MY MENTAL AND PHYSICAL HEALTH THAT THEY FUCKING CAUSED.

Fucking lying shitbags. Hope the septic tank explodes and they drown in feces.
froodle: (bitch)
I got an email today that the AW17 VoodooVixen collection is on sale now, and i clicked on it and was scrolling through the pretty dresses and BAM, MASSIVE ANXIETY SPIKE because shitty job's latest round of ridiculous fault finding has spoiled cute, retro fashion for me. And i dont want to spend any money on said dresses because they still havent given me real guidelines on exactly what im doing wrong, and my work wardrobe has lots of VV in and was fine for four and a half years until suddenly it wasnt, and THANKS FOR MAKING LOOKING AT PRETTY DRESSES A FUCKING PANIC INDUCER, SHITBAGS.
froodle: (bitch)
Just passed a bunch of kids hanging out at the end of my road and overhead this little snippet:

Kid1: im a mossosaur*, hes basically a really really big dinosaur
Kid2: well im t-rex, that means king thunder lizard, he's the leader
Kid1: t-rex isnt shit, you need to school yourself on dinosaur knowledge

It made me smile, and it reminded me of the time prawn declared he didnt like long necked herbivore dinos because "they're common", which happened when he was in his twenties and is therefore even funnier than these two primary schoolers with Firmly Held Dinosaur Opinions, and which i liked so much i ended up working into an eerie fic for no reason other than it amused me

*spelling mistakes mine, evidently kid2 isnt the only one who needs dinosaur schooling
froodle: (bitch)
I had my drs appointment today. I said that i was looking for sleeping pills and anti-anxiety meds to basically get me through while i try to job hunt as i didnt want to be signed off at this stage, and she was like, can you tell me more about why you want these, and i explained and she was like, okay, i really, REALLY advise you to take sick leave because i have seen workplace stress before but rarely at this level.

I asked Mike to come in with me, because there were things I wanted to be sure to mention trigger warning ) and also in case I got too incoherent or upset he had a copy of my notes, and when I wouldnt get signed off for a couple of weeks the Dr asked him what he thought and he was like, I support her right to make her own choices but if it were up to me i wouldnt want her to set foot in that place again.

I explained that i didnt want to because of fear of reprisals and retaliation, and she was like, id like you to at least take two days off to let the meds take effect, and i agreed to that, and she was like but please think about taking an extended sick leave

So i have my tablets and im off til Tuesday with a doctors note and my medical file has all the details. I called the senior staffer on my team (terrible supervisor is on holiday this week) and let her know. I guess Ill see where I am after that.

Fucking Hell. All they had to do to avoid this was like... not bully me. Not sexualise or objectify or degrade me. All this because two people in a position of power cant keep their opinions about womens looks to themselves.
froodle: (bitch)
It really bothers me that that little lizard dude got changed into a horrible Eva monster in that one episode of voltron. The big gladiator guy and the army guy were stupid and mean, so fuck them, but the little lizard guy? He just wanted to lick his eyes and peep around and now he's all evil and massive and stuff. I hate that. Let him be a lizard.
froodle: (bitch)
I feel afraid and like crying all the time. I havent left the house all weekend. Mike went out to meet his friend for coffee and i just lay under the duvet and shook with fear, waiting for him to come home.

I hate that i can be made to feel like this, for a shitty office job at a piece of crap company. I do my job well and without fuss and that has consistently not been enough to protect me from their bullying. And yet when the cycle starts up again, im surprised. They are incompetent managers, that much im sure of, but i kind of feel like im a fucking idiot for being blindsided by it.
froodle: (bitch)
Oh good, a panic attack. How nice after eighteen months without one, to see that all the trauma my shitty job installed has been waiting under the surface for them to start this bullshit again.

FUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKK YOOOOOOOOOOUUU.
froodle: (bitch)
I tied my hair back because, IDK, I thought it would help me blend in more?

I feel so creeped out right now

I wish I hadn’t come in

Two different people both complimented my dress this morning

And instead of being like, “oh thank you”, I was sat there thinking “oh god please don’t draw any attention to me”

I can’t stop thinking about my body and how, while I’m sat here trying to do my job, someone is like “my boner has feelings about your legs, and my boner is important enough for me to go to your boss and your boss’s boss about it”

And my boss and my boss’s boss are both like, hmm, boner feelings, seems appropriate and also something *I* should be taking steps to control, because some random decided I was meat to be looked at and not a person, or an employee, or anything other than how my body makes them feel

I’m super uncomfortable and frightened and my anxiety is through the roof right now

I just want to draw a curtain around my corner so nobody can look at me and tell me all the vague non-specified but definitely inadequate ways I don’t measure up

And I’m looking around at what other people are wearing and I’m seeing bare arms and legs in tights and so I still don’t get it

And my skin crawls every moment I’m out in the office with the thought of who is looking at me
froodle: (bitch)
I just bought the paperback version of armageddon outta here PURELY for the two new billy ray stories and OH GOD i know i know it was all weird and jacked up and remnant and hitmanny but I LOVE HIM SO MUCH and I LOVED HIM AND TANITH SO MUCH and im just... im stil really not over him dying. WAHHHHHHHHHH.
froodle: (bitch)
I know she's all remnanty and that at the time, but the scene where madam mist gives tanith a fucking arachnoid bukkake shot to the face is THE STUFF OF FUCKING NIGHTMARES.
froodle: (bitch)
I am still SO MAD about Erskine Ravel. Like... SO MAD. WHY IS EVERYTHING TERRIBLE?!
froodle: (bitch)
The guy doing the Kingdom of the Wicked audiobook has given Billy Ray a proper Elvis voice and idk, I kind of like it. Though in my head he always sounds like Ryan Kwantan playing Jason Stackhouse, which probably shows how much I dont know about American accents in general and Southern ones in particular.
froodle: (bitch)
OH WHAT THE FUCK FINBAR DIES?!

OFFSCREEN?!

THIS IS FUCKING BULLSHIT!!
froodle: (bitch)
Im rereading the skulduggery pleasant series andandand kenspeckle, oh no, kenspeckle...
froodle: (bitch)
I would always really character myself up like when I went in for, well I don’t know if you’re aware of “Foreverware”; did you ever see Eerie, Indiana? I did two Eerie, Indiana’s, both for Joe. There were two segments and the first one was called “Foreverware” and it was this really funny segment about people who preserve themselves in Tupperware, or “Foreverware”, as in the story. We had to sing and all this stuff and it was just crazy, okay? When I read it I called Joe up, after the audition when I got the part, and I said, “Look, if I’m going to do this I’m going to have to have a wig” and he said, “Why would you have to have a wig?” and I said, “Because I can’t play this character as me. I have an idea, just please I have to have a wig.” He says, “You don’t need a wig.” I said, “Joe, would you just please let me do this?” So he finally agreed, and I went to the hair department and I told them exactly what I wanted. To make a long story short when I was in college back in the day my roommate was Heather MacRae; and if you know Heather MacRae at all she had those blonde bangs with the straight blonde hair, you might remember her from Bang the Drum Slowly; she was wonderful in that. Anyway, she was an old friend of mine and I wanted to play her because she characterized this character for me. So I got this blonde wig that was just like her and I had wardrobe wardrobe me in this sort of lime green A frame dress and white go-go boots, et cetera. I walked on set and Joe takes one look at me and he almost fell over he was like, “Oh my God”. Well, the producers fell so in love with this character that they, two episodes later, brought my character back and gave me a set of twins; and it was in the one called “Hole in the Wall Gang” with Hoyt Axton and they had me standing in the bank with my daughter and she’s dressed with the little blond wig and the green A frame dress and white go-go boots and it was really visually very, very funny.

So, Joe always allowed me a lot of creative freedom; but I always had to audition for him except for in The Howling.

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