Friday, March 19, 2004

Ladies and gentlemen, taxpayer's of Wisconsin: I no longer care if you keep copies of your past tax returns. As it turns out, I no longer work at the Wisconsin Department of Revenue. Coincidently, you can do whatever you want with your returns. Burn them, flog them, put them up your butt...I don't care.

Back to the task at hand...I haven't posted in a long long time. The reason I never post, as previously stated, is that I believe blogs are gay. They're queer as folk. Queer as a 2 dollar bill. Gay as a picnic between Ellen DeGeneres and Melissa Etheridge. Either way, that's not the point. The point is, that I now work for the Dane County Department of Human Services and I have a 45 minute lunch. Do you know how long it takes to eat a lunch? Exactly 3.66 minutes. Time it sometime: you'll be impressed at the accuracy of the statistic. After you've consumed your lunch in 3.66 minutes, that offers you a large chunk of time that is without purpose. So the problem at hand is, what can one do for the remainder of said lunch period? BLOG POST! So here you go. Live with it. I might be a hypocrite but, hey, at least I'm aware of it.

As previously stated, I work at the Dane County Department of Human Services, located at the Dane County Job Center. I am a Clerk Typist and started the position on Monday March 15. This week has been long....very very long. There's something about the concept of training that allows it to have a illogical power to stretch minutes far far beyond their 60 second capacities. If I didn't know better, I would believe that I've been in my first week of training for a little over a year now. 13 months, 4 days, and 6.89 minutes to be exact. However, I realize that it merely seems that way. Bottom line: training is lousy. It makes you feel like a tool; a complete and total tool. I swear that I have never felt so dumb in my entire life as the few times I have begun new jobs. It makes me irritable, full of loathing, and incredibly depressed. Ryan can attest to the fact that when I started my previous job at DOR, he almost had to hide all the cleaners and disposable razors. I think I'm handling myself better this time, but it's all relative. I am still cranky, I am still negative, and I still don't know what the hell I'm doing.

What do I do here? I really don't know. I schedule review meetings for people on state benefits programs, I enter mail-in applications, I work the front desk, and I sit a whole lot. My supervisor told me not to worry about how everything fits into my job description, just to sit back and let it all sink in. I'm sorry, but that's not one of the brightest things I've ever heard. What do you mean, "just let it all sink in"? How can you let something sink in if you don't even know what relevance it has to you? Once again, Ryan can attest to the fact that I don't listen to things if they don't apply to me. TV Commericals=non-existent. Celebrities=who?. Trivial items and factoids=buh?. My brain is only so big. There's only so much room for information. This is where Ryan and I differ. See, I push out all the stuff that doesn't matter. I throw it in a big heap and take it to the trash. Ryan puts it all in a neat little mental folder and stores it in the cabinet for later use. However, his cabinet is nearing its capacity and therefore is incapable of retaining minutia, i.e. things I just said to him 3 seconds ago. Who's right and who's wrong? I don't know. All I know is that when he tells me something, I remember. He's getting better though...I think. Maybe his listening skills are just getting better. Either way, it's a big improvement.

Today's afternoon training consists of Policy Overviews for Medicaid, Food Stamps, Child Care, Wisconsin Works (w-2), and a few other subsidary programs. I will learn their policies, I will memorize their policies, and I will promptly forget their policies. I'm sorry, but that is the custom of Celia's brain and you just can't mess with customs. Try getting into Canada once, and you'll know what I'm talking about. Those crazy Canadians. Who are they to tell me that I can't enter Canada with an uninventoried semi-truck full of cigarettes and other illegal contraband? Pssht...thinking I'm going to SELL that stuff. Maybe if they'd think about it for more than 2 minutes they'd realize I just really have a problem.

So anyway, in conclusion...I have a new job. I am unfamiliar with my duties and often feel lost. Sometimes I end up in co-worker's cubicles and leave feeling very blustered. It's hell to start a new job, but you know what? I can pay my bills.