Non Sequitur: Do you love your job?

       I once told a manager of mine that, while I enjoy my work, it would never come before my family.  While this is typically viewed as career suicide, I have reasoned this out.  It comes down to defining love.  But first, lets look at my job.

       I work for a company so large, you are currently sitting where you can see something they made.  You may not know it, and I'm not going to say who they are, due to corporate policy.  Which is point one: rather than say you can't ever mention your job, or that you can't blog, or even that you are not allowed to speak ill of the company, they simply made a policy that you don't disclose precisely who you work for online.  A well-reasoned, smart policy, actually.

       Also, they pay above scale.  The benefits to the employee are simple: higher pay.  The benefits to the employer are manifold.  They gain higher morale, better productivity, (because someone is waiting for you to vacate that seat) and generally, a better class of employee.  This idea is so old, and so obviously beneficial to the company, that Henry Ford himself, notorious cheapskate, used it.

       My benefits package is what you would expect from a company that size, and my 401k is managed by better fund managers than yours.  Overall, they are a great employer who respects the workforce they have.  Yet I do not love my job.

       I enjoy my work.  I am doing the kind of work that is challenging, and for the most part, fun.  I am surrounded by like-minded people who enjoy the job at least as much as I do.  The conditions are good, the commute is less than the national average.  Overall I am happy there.  Yet I do not love my job.

       Love is not only a mutual exchange, it is something that has a clear definition.  It is putting someone else's needs before your own.  When you love someone, that is what you do.

       My employer does not love me.  They respect me.  I do not want my employer to love me.  I want them to respect me. They do not put their needs ahead of mine.  The benefits, pay, etc. are not examples of putting my needs first; rather they exemplify the acknowledgement of my needs.  Each of those benefits comes with an offsetting benefit to the company.  Mostly this takes the form of a better workforce.

       I do not love my employer.  I respect them.  (Well, as much as I'm capable of respecting anyone, or anything.)  My family, I love.  Love conquers all.

Guest author opinion piece

       I spent a pleasant afternoon recently with an old friend I met while attending Thunderwood College.  She went on a rant about something and I asked her to write it down, for ourselves and our posterity.  I present it in a barely altered form, below.  And remember this was a rant, not a well-reasoned pontification.  Any resemblance to anyone is likely intended, but for legal reasons, stated otherwise.  Please do not send in commentary on this, I didn't compose it.

Anne Nimmis <annonimmis@gmail.com>	7:04 PM (0 minutes ago)
to me

       Hi, long time no see.  It was great talking to you the other day at <redacted>.  I have copy-pasted my opinion piece that you wanted to publish for your blog.  It is a bit below your normal standards, and somewhat profanity laced, but hey, you know how I roll.   Tell <redacted>, <redacted>, <redacted>, and <redacted> I said hi.  Pet <redacted> for me.  

Later beyotch

Ann

       When I was in High School a trend had already begun.  Not the tight jeans or tube tops or poodle perms.  A trend in education that should have died a screaming fire-death long ago.  Kids weren't stupid anymore.  I can see not calling them "retards", that is just mean.  But you couldn't call them slow, dumb, or any other synonym for less than average.  They had a learning disability.  They all had the same learning disability actually.  The fad diagnosis of the day was dyslexia.  Every dumb-as was not a dumb-ass, they were dyslexic.  There isn't a connection between IQ and dyslexia, and maybe the smart ones who had it didn't need special classes.  But it sure seems there was a decade where a bunch of kids have it, and now the numbers are back down.

       That brings me to my point.  The fad diagnosis of today is Asperger's Syndrome.  Are there people who have it, sure.  As many as they say?  Not on your life.  It just seems that every kid who didn't get put in a corner enough isn't a brat anymore, they have Asperger's.  Johnny isn't a brat because he's from a broken home, with a crack addict mom, and dad in prison.  His behavioral issues are because he has Asperger's.  Guess what?  When you point the finger at the wrong problem, you can't get the right answer.  

       The adults who act rude to everyone and then claim they have it are worse.  Have you been to a doctor for that diagnosis?  No.  You are just an asshole.  Being an asshole doesn't mean you have a mental disorder.  And news flash: I know people who actually have it who aren't half that rude.  Maybe your parents didn't spank you enough, maybe too much.  But even if you do have it, you can learn to adapt.  I know people who have done it.  Asperger's is a crippling shyness, not an excuse to attack everyone around you and hold up your deluded self-diagnosis like a shield.  And it isn't an excuse to be an asshole.

So, there you have it.  One person's opinion on that.  Again, don't shoot the messenger.