Biding My Time

They call it "working" when you donate 8 hours of your day towards the continued progress of a business, but I wouldn't exactly call my experience so far "work." As of yet, a more accurate description would be "parasite," due to circumstances beyond my control. The bureaucratic nature of such an organization condones such relations like a shallow plastic swimming pool full of tepid water begets malaria-laden mosquito larvae.

When I was offered the job on Friday, I was asked if I could start the following Monday. After nearly eight months of a similar parasitic arrangement with the Nebraska Department of Labor, I enthusiastically agreed. Now I am beginning to wonder "why the short notice when clearly you weren't ready for me?"

On day one I was not able to log into my terminal: an essential function when your entire job description revolves around computers.

On day two I was not able to access the geospatial database: an essential function when your duties include computer-aided geospatial analysis.

On day three I was not able to access my e-mail: an essential function when all of your duties are assigned strictly through such a method of correspondence.

On day four I am just a baby step away from actually being able to do some work, but in the meantime, I can do nothing else but sit down and collect my paycheck for doing absolutely nothing while the five-headed Bureaucratic Hydra in charge of daily operations here continues to squabble over what permissions are allowed by which head and who gets to eat first. Meanwhile, none of the heads has decided which one is in charge, because they all seem to have an elaborate system of checks and balances on one another that one couldn't possibly understand even with a hundred brains, thus one or two leaches riding on the back of the beast is of little consequence to the big picture. And so it goes until the body of the beast starves itself and the parasites have sucked all the remaining lifeblood from the company.