I'm gonna hammer and sickle my way outta here!

Subtitle: This was less Nazi, more Soviet.

So . . . yeah. Where do I begin? I climbed out of bed this morning at 5am. It was amazingly cold. As I wheeled the garbage cans out to the road, I felt like a zombie. The ice was so thick on the windshield that the scraper only seemed to shave through the top layer. It was that kind of morning where everything is eerily quiet because nothing is moving around. Even the roosters crowed later than usual. I once heard that the worst days of the work year are the day after New Year’s and the day after the Super Bowl. Touché. So given that this day is not fun for anyone, it was EXTRA not fun for me. Do you remember the episode of South Park about the planet-arium where the creepy old man is brainwashing everyone? LOL. What is the connection between planetariums and brainwashing? That was where they made us go in the wee small hours. I shit you not. First of all, after having such an early morning, sitting in a dark room with stars spinning around the ceiling nearly put me to sleep. Secondly, we were made to put on costumes (again, I shit you not) and then herd into a conference room. On some level, my Spidey senses wondered if we weren’t filing down a cattle chute to impending doom. (As my friend, Jon, put it: “Last time my people were rounded up and put on a train, it turned out a LOT worse.” To which I replied, “This was less Nazi, more Soviet.”) So once we got in the room, we were made to sing songs and act out skits about how wonderful the company is. It reminded me of that scene in Rocky IV when the banners of Marx, Lenin, and Drago are unfurled and everyone sings of the glory of the USSR. I thought, “If a banner of Stalin comes down while the CCCP National Anthem plays, I am gone.” As it is, I am ready to hammer and sickle my way out. I just can’t do it anymore. I told my mom, “I’ve tried to be enthusiastic. I’ve tried to force myself to care but . . . I just don’t.” A big part of the problem for me is that the more someone tries to force me into something, the more I balk. I don’t want to be Alex in A Clockwork Orange; I don’t want to have someone order me to get down on the floor and lick boots. We all have to do things at work that we don’t want to do. That’s part of life and part of why they call it work. I get it. But boot-licking has no dignity. Being treated like a slave or a giant puppet with someone’s hand up your ass has no dignity. An acquaintance of mine rightly labeled it “belittling” and I thought that was one of the best summations. I guess I don’t understand why submission to public humiliation has to be a test for them. These events make no money and generate no business; near as I can figure, domination is the only function they serve. “If you expect to keep your job with us, you better dance for us, little monkeys.” One of my colleagues told me she had such profound social anxiety the night before that she had insomnia and threw up this morning. Another colleague told me she didn’t sleep at all the whole night because she felt panicky and overwhelmed with dread. All I could think was, “If almost everyone hates this and finds it degrading, why in the hell are we doing it?”

I understand that there are extroverts who enjoy being the center of attention and putting on a loud show. To each his own. But I don’t. I’m that person who flies under the radar and then knocks your socks off. Probably to my own detriment, I’m not the type who walks in every morning screaming, “I’m ahh-maaaa-zing, bitches! Look at me!” I feel like when your work is high quality, it speaks for itself. Generally speaking, people who have to constantly tell you how wonderful they are or companies that have to propagandize you about how fantastic they are, aren’t. There are exceptions to every rule but just as a general maxim: if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. In my 32 years of experience, I can personally attest from my failures that if you have to lie to yourself about something, it’s doomed. “My friend will eventually grow up. She’s Peter Pan now but someday, she’ll look around and realize that everyone else is an adult and she isn’t. She’ll get there.” Giant Red Family Feud X. “This company has told me for the last three years that they will promote me. Maybe it’s finally my time.” Giant Red Family Feud X. “This company promised me a six-figure income and no micromanagement. None of that has ever happened. Maybe if I just hang on a little longer.” Giant Red Family Feud X. “This guy is a passive-aggressive bum but I know if I love him enough, he’ll warm up and the ice will melt.” Mega Giant Red Family Feud X.

I know it’s important not to be a quitter. I think it’s also important, however, to know when and how to cut your losses. Doing the same old shit and expecting a different result does no one any good. Sadly, I’ve been guilty of that. I get wooed in by the razzle and dazzle, Great & Mighty Oz dog and pony show. Then I get a colossal disappointment when it turns out that the red carpet bullshit they fed me during the interview was, in fact, bullshit. A sales pitch. A pipe dream. I don’t want to do that this time around. What’s yet to come, I don’t know. But I do know my threshold for where I’m at right now is limited. Next year, some other lost soul can put on a costume and prance around to “CCCP Forever.”