really, nysc needs to stop

so i sent them a nastygram about the locker room situation and got into an email war with sarahthewondercustomerserviceagent.

'let me start off by saying that i think nysc is great, the trainers are knowledgeable, the facility clean [NOT], and i can always get a machine. while i'm thrilled that the locker rooms are being overhauled, it's most inconvenient that i can't use the locker room every day, and, therefore, can't workout three days a week some weeks. i'd be most appreciative if you'd discount my monthly rate, for going to another club isn't an option on my lunch hour. i understand that cutting my rate would be contingent upon not using another club.'

'thanks for your email. there is nothing we can do during the renovation to your rate, and there is no way to enforce not using another club, but thanks for your patience during the renovation.'

'if i had a regular membership, i could only use [my club location]. you could code the account as 'regular' and not 'passport gold.'

'yes, we can downgrade your options but that would have to be done at the club level and there is a fee to change statuses.'

'no, that's not what i mean. i mean if you can enforce non-'passport gold' members from using clubs, you can code my membership accordingly and give me a break on my dues for a membership i cannot use.'

'yes, regular members only use the home club whenever they want, and other clubs during the off-peak hours of...'

really, smartness, you're riding my last. fucking. nerve. either you're brilliant and parlaying this conversation into an area that is so absurd you know i'll back off, or you're really that fucking stupid. (going with the latter, no confidence in humanity as of late.) BLAH fuck you, nysc. per my usual passive-aggressive style, i'm going to email the fucking president of the company tomorrow. worked when cvs lost a roll of film from slovenia, worked when the cuntlet at shanghai tang wouldn't take something back, worked when the ramada was one step above hourly rates and giving me crabs, really, i could go on and on. hell, i'm a writer: what i lack in person, i'd like to think i can articulate in word.

oh, and i'm an angry bitch: there is that fuel, too.

--

so my useless 'boss' has been taking these lovely, extravagant lunch hours this week, and is leaving early, as our department director is away on training. (which, i'm sure, is code for 'rehab,' but i digress.) she's not in next week (PRAISE ALLAH) and i think, per her usual pattern of behavior when big bossman is away, she'll call in tomorrow. she always calls in at least once when he's not around, it's wonderful: her indolence makes me look like a japanese car assembly plant worker. i love how her spotty attendance and, therefore, spotty negative vibes, are not as in-my-face as usual. i'm so sure she'll not be in i've got a bet-pool going on with my coworkers, i really do.

the bet-pool is actually the surface manifestation of something bigger... see, 'boss'lady sent the three of us in her 'group' an email that says, to the effect of, 'your day starts at 930, ends at 530, and if your lunch is longer than one hour, i expect to be notified.' fine, she's cracking the whip on our most opportunistic asses, 'i learned it by watching you!' [i loved that commercial.] i'll play her game, as long as craigslist is still unbanned and i can read worldwide newspapers. fine. but, as i'm a passive-aggressive bitch, like i said, i'm noting every deviation SHE'S making from her own little nastygram. and i have to say, it's not pretty.

5 july, sick
6 july, sick
7 july, sick, not reported on absence chart

11 july, in at 10, out at 5
12 july, out at 445
...similar shit on and on until today...
20 july, out at ~12, didn't notify anyone

i really don't know how to say this any other way...

don't. fuck. with. me.

the only question is when to bring it to auntie mame's attention.