I’ve decided to bring back the password-protected work posts. With all the madness and crazy shit going on there daily, I feel like I have to say something about it. Before, the passwords were contained in the blogcasts, but now that I’ve put away the mic indefinitely, I’ll have to think of a new method (maybe I’ll post it via Twitter).

And I know what you’re thinking: “Why even talk about work?” Well, I could talk about work, or I could tell you about what I’m learning in school. I’m not dating anyone right now, so I can’t really talk about what’s not happening. Outside of work and school, I’m usually asleep. That wouldn’t really make for a good blog post now, would it? 11pm – 4:45am: knocked the fuck out. Comments: 0.

So yes, password-protected work posts are coming back. Until then, I’ll tell you what happened today.

There are a lot of married couples that work at Big Company, Inc. It’s kind of a no-fail situation, at first. One person starts working there, then after six months, they can bring on their spouse. If the spouse manages to stay for 90 days, then they get a hefty referral fee. The amount is under speculation, but I’m guessing it’s at least $300.

In a way, I can see the advantage of working with your spouse. You both know the money’s coming in on a regular schedule, you can have lunch together, and when things go wrong, you have a built-in amen corner.

But what if one of you gets fired? Sure, you’re a couple outside of work, but is it the same package deal at work?

Today, one of the designers’ husbands was fired, and in a rather gangster way — they called him at home before he was set to come in for his shift. He was instructed to give his badge to his wife (Big Bertha), and then have her turn it in. To add insult to injury, she was instructed not to gather his personal things, because the company would box them up and mail them to him. Her and I usually come in right around the same time, and her usually placid and happy-go-lucky demeanor was completely different. She was irate. She stormed into the elevator going up and started off.

“I can’t fucking believe they fired my husband! He was doing well, got a great 6-month review…do you know why they fired him?”

“Umm…no.” And if I did, I don’t think I’d tell her. At 6’4″, she could very easily kick my ass, especially in her present behavioral state.

“For some jeans, Karsh. The bottom of his jeans was caught in the escalator and ripped, he went the rest of the day with a ripped cuff, and then he got fired because of it. I’m so fucking mad…I need to talk to Office Creeper when he comes in.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

The elevator stopped on our floor and the doors opened.

“I hadn’t decided yet. But there’s going to be some cussing in it.”

The rest of the day was heavy with the news of the firing. In anger, Big Bertha scrawled the word “APESHIT” over our quality control matrix grid (one of many measures of public shame, but that’s another story), refused to do any work on a very busy day, and spent most of the day crying. At the end of the day, she submitted her two weeks. Since Office Creeper’s office is right across from my cube, I actually heard him tell her this very assholish statement: “Well I’m glad you’re resigning, because after your behavior today, it saves me the trouble of firing you.”

Ouch!

The other married couples working there are on pins and needles, but I’m sure we’ll be feeling the affects of today for the rest of the week.

Especially the “APESHIT” on the board. It gave us all a good laugh, but they’ll work that enjoyment out of us later.

Great.