Monday was screaming. Sitting at my desk, screaming inside my head. Like someone’s turned down the saturation on all the colors. Maybe I shouldn’t drink so much.
Makowski had originally scheduled me for a slab cubicle when the group first moved here. A slab cubicle is like a cubicle except it only has one side. So..it’s a six-foot slab, with a wall. You face the wall. I told Makowski, when I saw the diagram of cubicles in the new space..I told him my bathtub is bigger than that. Here’s exactly what I said:
“My bathtub is bigger than that, Makowski. I’m not working there. I want a real cubicle or I’m not coming in to work anymore. If you give me that slab I’m staying home and I’m working from my bathtub.”
He gave me a real cubicle. He gave me a corner cubicle.
I survive a hangover pretty well. I only had a little last night. Sunday Ash and I had lunch at Bravo. I wore my sunglasses the whole time. That’s not normal for Ohio. We didn’t talk much.
Lately my goal has been to try to get fired. I show up and get things done—which is more than 95% of the people do—but when it comes to the extras I’m pretty much in “fuck you” mode: wearing two different color shoes and all that. Burning incense at my desk. There’s nothing about it in the employee manual. People like me are why legal documents get to be a hundred pages. They keep having to add provisions to specifically address practices they never thought of. Christmas lights at Christmas are standard in an office. Christmas lights year-round, aren’t. Fuck em.
Makowski tried to give me a slab cubicle because I’m a contractor. The main difference between a contractor and a regular employee is we make more money. And they can fire you at any time. But if they do, they have to pay the full contract. Why anyone would work as a regular employee I have no idea. That’s not true. It’s because they have no self-respect. I suppose it’s slightly more secure. But it’s not like I’m trying to start a family.
The first thing you need in contract negotiation is no fear. I negotiated the highest raise of any MR contractor last year. I did it by having no fear.
The thing you fear in a contract negotiation is that they’ll think you’re crazy for the amount of raise you’re asking for. The key is: to not be afraid of this. There’s no good reason not to be afraid. You should be a little afraid. But to be a good negotiator, you just choose not to be afraid..because you chose to.
You just get used to fear.
When Makowski put me in that slab cubicle I was ready to be poor. I was ready to have nothing. I was ready to lose my job. I didn’t disrespect him. I just said: Look, guy, this isn’t going to happen. Now here are your new choices: you put me in a rightful cubicle or you shake my hand right now because this is goodbye.
That’s negotiation.
You’ve got to tell people that you matter. That you’re here. No one’s talking about excessive ego here; this is simply pushing back the weeds of other people that are growing in your garden. It’s saying: Look, there’s a fence here! You grow whatever you want. Don’t mess up my planting strategy. See? I have things in nice, neat little rows and you, don’t, get, to mess, with my, garden.
I have a planting strategy here.
It may not make sense to you.
That’s ok. It doesn’t have to.
I type to Ash: hows your pussy?
She types back: buseee! =P
That’s bullshit. She’s not busy. That means she doesn’t want to talk because I hurt her feelings. Not even for being with Chad, or Janel, or anyone else. That doesn’t matter, as long as I didn’t come with them. A little dick-sucking at the “Naughty”, who cares. It’s par for the course. If she wasn’t throwing up the bathroom her and Brooklyn woulda been making out, too. No, it’s for some stupid thing I did at lunch yesterday—at Bravo, when I had my glasses on? She thought I was wearing the glasses so I could look at the waitresses and that hostess that I like—which I wasn’t. I’ll look at that hostess anytime I want. I’ve never hid from Ash that I like her. That hostess has a boyfriend anyway. The reason I was wearing those glasses is I didn’t want to look at Ash. Not that I didn’t want to look at her. I just needed some privacy. You can’t have someone looking at you all the time.
I type to Gao: fridays? (As in: do you want to cut out early and go to T.G.I. Friday’s where the waitress knows our first three drinks by heart, where we don’t have to even order until after the first three. Gao is a contractor as well. Ash is a regular employee so she has to stay at work and work.)
I look over at Gao. He has his headphones in. He’s typing. His chat window isn’t up. I can see the red indicator at the top of his screen, though. He’s either ignoring me or he’s in one of his development trances.
My clock says 10:21. It’s a little early for Friday’s. I guess I could do some work.