I can't wait to be a manager

I can’t wait for the day when I’m a manager of something. For real!

Sorry for the lack of writing lately, 61 hours at work last week, the last thing on my mind is turning on a computer and doing some pleasure writing.

I must explain to you what I am doing in order to allow you to properly feel my frustration. There will be some of ‘architecture talk’ for my non architect friends, so I apologize if you get a little lost.

I’m working on exterior wall sections for an 18 story building and we are still designing the profiles of the pre-cast concrete walls and studying the glass to pre-cast relationships in order to see what the building looks like with the glass at various depths.

So every time they move the glass in or out 1-2 inches, I have to change it on 18 stories on each of the four wall sections I’m working on which means approximately 72 changes. It wouldn’t be so bad, except that every time I change it, it takes me about 3-4 hours. And everytime they say, "This is the last time, we'll change this" But it only takes them 2 minutes to decide they want to change it. so by the time I get it all changed, they call..... and change it back.

Bastards!

Then on top of that, they move the pre-cast up or down a few inches or make the depths a little bigger or smaller which means that the relationships to the beams and concrete slabs change with every whim, which MEANS, that all of the connections between the pre-cast concrete and the slabs change every time! Don’t get me wrong, I’m learning a lot, but I’d rather be hanging out in my house in my bed since that MF Lionel is still on my couch!! (that’s a different story)

Before I was just ‘working at an architectural firm’ now, I truly know what it means to be ‘PAYING DUES’. , because I ain’t doing this shit forever. FUCK THAT! I need to be that MF that says, “yeah, move the glass in a couple of inches”, then naively states “that will take you a few minutes right?” When he KNOWS that shit is about to ruin my plans for the night.

Management is the key y’all. It wasn’t bad when I was working on projects small enough to be left alone to do my own thing. I understand that I’m not quite at the point where they’re going to lay an $80million project in my lap, but this ‘design by committee’ BS is killing me. Too many indecisive MF’ers who all think they know more than they actually do.

On top of that, all of the managers from the two architecture fims working on this (including my own) think everyone else at the other firm is an idiot. So, the reality of this whole situation is all of the intern architects are left in the office in the evenings and end up actually figuring everything out on our own to make sure the managers look good. My ass ends up stuck in the office until the wee hours of the night while the managers go home to their big houses, in rich suburbs they can’t afford to live in.

I need to be a manager for real.

O yeah, and that MF w/ the meatballs in his cheeks is still on my couch.

Since I wasn’t home that much last week , it was bearable, UNTIL this dude starts receiving mail at the house! I’m home on Saturday and the mailman rings the buzzer and asks if I have another roommate, I tell him temporarily, and he says “well you better put his name on the box because I had his unemployment check sent back yesterday” ……….

Okay first of all, my man is getting way too comfortable if he’s giving out my address as his own, and Secondly, I REFUSE to put his name on the mailbox, especially since he ain't paying a dime in rent, Lastly, giving out my address as the place to have his unemployment check sent!??

NAW, BRUH!!! YOU GOTS TO GO!!

So I gave him one week. In my mind he’s got two weeks max, but he doesn't know that. I told my brother who doesn't say anything that if he ain't gone like I said, I’m changing the MFing locks.

Did I mention that my brother is a spineless punk? I love him to death, but I suppose all those years of picking on him truly had a negative effect, and I feel like I am to blame, because the boy don’t have a confrontational bone in his body. "Do you think like, maybe, if you can, when you get the opportunity, at your convenience, you can pitch in a little bit on the bills, if you can, maybe?" What is that bullshit??? I'm trying to let him handle shit since it's his "friend", but I was like, "Hey yo, twenty on the heat bill ah-ight? Cool."

On top of that, I let Becky from the office give me a hand job on Sunday night in the office. I thought it might ease the pain, but instead it just made me realize that by living a life between the fools I live with and the one’s I work with I have officially lost my mind.

-c

CD of the moment: Compay Segundo - "Calle Sallud"