The Taskmaster

You've heard of the Beastmaster? Well, these guys outrank him, by a long-shot. They are the taskmasters. They will make you toe the mark, tote that bale, polish those boots. Meine heilige Fuhrer! No, no facism. We're not there yet. I'm beginning to take issue with my new boss. The whole I'm-not-gonna-pay-attention-to-your-needs-as-an-employee (even though it's company policy to do so) is getting old like a bleu cheese left out. My availability is not something to be messed around with, and yes, it has been on my application since I've been here. And yes, I have worked here for six months and have the option of changing it if I see fit. Anyways, nothing is as frustrating as a boss that won't work with you (at least until I find something more frustrating).

In other gnus, I took someone to task myself today. After many unreturned and ineffective messages and calls, I gave the guy who's supposed to be pressing my cds the warning shot today. If he doesn't call me within two days, I call him back with the ultimatum. Then he has a Galactic Standard Week to respond. No, I might give him more than that, but I will be on the phone with the Better Business Bureau if nothing is done, and no contact is made. My money was deposited in his account at his Credit Union with his name accepted under the title of his business, so something is going on. But it's been a month and a half since he put my check in the bank, and I've neither seen nor heard any results or reassurances. So, as the foot taps louder on the cold hard floor, we shall see what a few sunrises bring. Back to the Batcave!