Thursday, September 10, 2009

I hate my job

Ok, this isn't news. In fact, it's so boring that I need to either get over myself or quit already. Sigh.

But...today, yet another petty but infuriating indignity was heaped on the others. My "boss" tried to throw away my personal journals.

Back story: I am a member of a professional association which includes a journal subscription. I used to belong to three. Over the years, I've collected dozens (hundreds?) of publications from these associations. The collection won't fit in my one bookshelf and would be inappropriately housed in my file cabinets (which I need for, um, FILES). A while back, our "boss" said that we could put things in his office that would become part of our informal library. Perfect, I thought, for all my journals. These are general journals in my field and while I don't refer to them too often, they are standard sources for scholarly social science research.

Today, I saw a short pile of my journals in the hallway outside the "boss's" office. That means that it's ok to throw them away.

I went into his suite and saw all the other journals stacked in the middle of the floor. I found him in his (inner) office and asked why my journals were in the hall and then said that they were my personal journals and that he needed to give them back to me, not throw them away.

He said they weren't of general interest. I said they had to come back to me. He said take them any time.

So, I have to find boxes, box my journals, bring them back to my cube and put them where exactly?

I don't want to work for him any more. I can't take it.

Grateful for: oh sigh. Venting?

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