ho ho ho.

so about those numskull cronies. boss lady has brought in another one - my only departmental ally has deemed him "santa claus" as the resemblance is simply uncanny. he, much like all of boss lady's friends that have been doled out jobs here, has a phd in "pointing out obvious problems" (that we all have elected to ignore). i guess that would make him a poop dr. seriously, we have known about our issues forever, and he is undoubtedly wondering why this good-for-nothing staff hasn't done a thing about them. perhaps because we know we have zero funds to fix them. perhaps because we are overloaded with our 12 jobs, 11 of which we got cajoled into doing. we know they exist and we don't have time for them. yet - these people are soley hired to walk around, "audit" and "prioritize" our needs. if we could hire employees to be employed here, now that would be something.


unfortunately, when you start out actually doing work there is no chance for a hierarchical leap to the problem pointer role. it seems one must begin at that level to achieve a career plateau of nonproductivity. it also appears that when you're a friend of the boss, you automatically clep out of the field worker status to this much more enlightened distinction. alas, my state of zombieness does not allow for me to go around pointing out problems; since i don't care. it also doesn't allow for me to pretend to be friends with the boss, as that would take extensive effort i am not at liberty to generate. however, i will vehemently strive to replicate these poop docs' shining examples of unproductivity.

the beginning of the end.

so i have decided to become a zombie. i just couldn't take another day of actually caring about anything remotely connected to my pathetic job at the pathetic arts organization full of pathetic people. as a young artist living in nyc i thought it a smart idea to escape the impending waitress lifestyle by securing employment for myself in the "business" end of the arts world. dumbest idea ever.

since graduating college and moving here some years ago, i have worked for a handful of quite successful, mentally imbalanced artists. i then decided i was done with that line of work and moved into the institutional, saner, side of the arts - a big fat organization where i would have an actual cubicle to call my own. this has proven to be the most mind-boggling retarded experience of my life. i actually can't believe that this place and thousands just like it, managed and operated by bumbling idiots, are the leading non-profit arts organizations of the 21st century. this place is a clusterfuck of bad ideas - all of which stem from the meanderthal who calls herself the executive director, her team of numskull cronies and a board of directors that would rather be drinking a fifth of jack and painting each other's nails than figuring out how to pay our rent.

next month will be 2 years that i have worked in this loony bin. i saved up my vacation time for christmas so that means i have to stick it out til the tourists come shopping. so after much thought on how i could survive 4 more months without walking out of here speaking in tongues, i have decided to become a zombie. i have to protect my brain from these suckers. it is my only hope. today i'm starting the countdown. i must find a job by the start of the new year. and in this economy that's effing ridiculous, but still. goals. and it has to be a real job. i always resented when people would say that about the arts - and i still do as far as my artistic side - but i find it completely fitting for the administrative jobs in the arts. they are not real. they pay in monopoly money and the boss is a bridge troll and unicorns parade through the office at 6:00 everyday. i need a real job.

i'll figure out the rules of zombiedom as i go but one already comes to mind so here it is:

zombie rule #1 - no new ideas. anytime - whether it be in meetings, roundtable discussions, even email banter, i will have nothing of value to contribute. in places like this it takes very little time to realize that every brilliant new idea you present equates to 23 new jobs for you to do for the same pay. no thanks. i'm good.

i'm so fired if this gets read.

but then i'll get unemployment. hurray.