Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

November 1, 2013

it’s not all that….

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 10:41 am

The reality is, my job, much as I like it, much as everything appears to be going well (as in the squeaky wheel gets the oil, and I have seen no oil cans heading my way) much as everything seems to be trickling along nicely, could end tomorrow.

It could end for a variety of reasons, from a management decision that wipes out 10% of the staff overnight, to a single line manager decision that for some (real or imagined) reason my face doesn’t fit.

Pretty much all you can do is enjoy it while you can, and certainly not worry about what it takes to be a better employee with more job security.

Now, if I talked about being a better boyfriend / husband with better relationship security, y’all would be chanting “Beta $, Alpha fucks”

But the fact is, it is true, I can no more make my self an attractive boyfriend to a wimminz who just ain’t interested, no matter what I have to offer, than I can make myself an attractive employee to a company that just ain’t interested, no matter what I have to offer.

The parallels are exact.

I don’t *want* my job to end, but the reality is I can no more influence that than I can the weather, all I *can* do, is do my job, the same as I did on my first day, no less, and no more.

The reality is that employers can and do bail on great employees as arbitrarily and unfairly as wives bail on great husbands and fathers, and there is *nothing* that you can do as a man to either influence that decision, or influence the relative value that you are assigned as a part of that decision making.

We had an *incident* at work recently, and you have to remember “work” is reseller > client > us > various departments in our place > me actually turning up on site.

The incident is I did everything I was told, to the letter, and fulfilled both the letter and the spirit of my contract, and yet, the job didn’t end up with a working widget, and nobody was happy, and so everyone started in on the blame game, and by the way I am talking global brands here… not mom and pop’s lemonade stand.

Since I was the only fucker who had actually been on site, naturally I was the only suspect in the murder case, and naturally I have not been included in the loop in all the hand wringing and blame game and no, you pay, we ain’t paying, horse-shit and horse-trading.

Bottom line?

Bottom line is two layers and seventeen levels away in the layer cake, the reseller was in possession of some data, and despite three explicit opportunities to provide this data, one of which was when I personally called their 3rd line support to ask if I was missing anything, it was never provided.

It was never provided because there were so many layers in their own organisation, nobody saw the whole picture, and nobody had any incentive to wonder what if anything was on the pieces of jigsaw that they could not see, eg the other 4,999 pieces that make up the whole.

Nor was the system itself designed in such a way as to fail gracefully, if it did not find the *thing* it wanted, all it would do is reboot, endlessly, no diagnostics, no error messages, no output, nothing.

By now it is obvious, it’s a software fault, it could be a crypto key or a TPM tie in or a licence file, it doesn’t matter, the bitch has been written to look for this shit as an integral part of the boot process, and if it doesn’t find it, reboot instantly and try again.

Which is great with 20/20 hindsight, but the people who provided this system and who resold our engineers as their own to the end user and who approved the purchase of parts that amounted to a complete new system, never though to tell the field engineer (me) this, even when he asked.

No, much easier to wait for it to go wrong and start playing the blame game.

Of course, when I point all this out, because, you know, that is the job of the field engineer, to join all the dots that everyone on higher salaries sat in their offices already has, and suddenly the blame game is reversed and all agree that actually yours truly didn’t fuck up, and the reseller will foot the bill in full, and my employer says to me you are quite right….

Yeah, and fair play to y’all for admitting it and not actually blaming me the instant the reseller tried to dump on me, but, the fact is if y’all could do *your* fucking jobs properly in the first place it would never have gotten this far.

Y’all should have been, hey reseller, our guy did, exactly and to the letter, what he was told to do and authorised to do by you, now fuck off and pay up. Any fuck up ain’t with us or our guy.

As the beta boyfriend / husband / father, it isn’t my fucking job to point out to you where you or your friends or advisers are wrong about me.

As a man with my self employed hat on, said reseller would be on my blacklist for life, not for fucking up and not telling the field engineer relevant data, but for trying to blame him as a first resort, rather than FIRST trying to identify what went wrong and where and how.

***THIS***

As a lowly employee, no doubt I’ll be doing another job for this reseller soon.

Interestingly, and notably, my fellow field engineers instantly knew that I was seriously pissed off with the whole thing, despite remaining outwardly utterly professional and calm, and as soon as they knew the facts they all sided with me 100%

Interestingly also, they all also equally apportioned the blame between our employer and the reseller, I heard more than once “redacted are known for always trying to blame everyone else.”

Learn the lesson WOPR learned, many games are un-winnable, to play is to lose.

To try to be a good employee is to lose.

To try to be a good boyfriend / husband / father is to lose.

My company DO NOT WANT an uber mega kick-ass cool slick mother-fucker of a field engineer, if they did they woulda hired one, at 20x my current salary.

Same with bitches, you want a great man you’ll hire one, you are master of this house and of me.

*THEN* you can fucking complain when your employee doesn’t live up to spec, or your man doesn’t put food on the table or coal in the hearth, as per the original bill of goods.

Trying not to be a squeaky wheel is one thing, trying to be a teflon coated hub motor 100 kW drive wheel will get you sacked, part not suitable for role.

The HR bitch DOES NOT FUCKING GET IT, pathetic little circular mails about employee of the week and Fred has had such good feedback from acme corp and don’t y’all wanna compete with Fred and be even more alpha and uber than he is?

NO

I

FUCKING

DON’T

In my ideal world you won’t even have heard of me bitch, in fact in my ideal world the only people in the company who even know I exist would be three or four people in the service department who assign me work, and the fucking payroll computer.

We have quite a few ex military types, you can see the look on their faces, like being smacked across the face with a fresh wet halibut, when I say shit to them.

I’ll get emails circulars from them about company policy and procedures and looking good for clients, and email circulars from HR about who got prizes for the best fucking Halloween costume at work, so I’ll ask them when they were on patrol in Helmand Province, was it the Afghans or the Brass who formed the judging panel for the best Halloween outfit while on patrol?

Did they have a dress down Friday where everyone went out on patrol in denim and cheesecloth and the wimminz soldiers looked like they were clubbing?

Did they hire people from the job-centre in Watford and tell them to make their own way to Kandahar, DHL should be delivering your weapons and ammo on-site for a pre-midday and you got to look for a guy wearing an aqualung who answers to the name of Trevor and fix whatever it is he says needs fixing so you can get your paperwork signed and we all get paid?

Gotta be careful who you say this shit to though…. real careful… or you’ll be seen as the squeaky wheel.

Fuck all you can do to improve your lot, as an employee or as a beta boyfriend, but plenty you can do to fuck it up…. and 99% of that will come from trying to improve your lot, or your status. or what others think of you.

 

October 6, 2013

Selling your soul

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:59 am

This one comes up regularly in conversations, so time to put it here.

It doesn’t matter if it is on a fucking site, PoF, okcupid, fuckbook, a job interview, or real life.

You can give it any fucking trendy name you like, your account, your profile, your CV, your party hat on… it doesn’t make any odds, what you are doing is writing an advert…. this leads to options… Person A who is honest, and Person B who is dishonest.

  1. Advert is true
    1. Person A visits advert and likes it
      1. Game on
    2. Person A visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you aren’t compatible, no sale today
    3. Person B visits advert and likes it
      1. Game over, they are dishonest, you won’t like the price
    4. Person B visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you are honest, they don’t like the price
  2. Advert is false
    1. Person A visits advert and likes it
      1. Game over, your deception will be revealed
    2. Person A visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you aren’t compatible, no sale ever
    3. Person B visits advert and likes it
      1. Game on/over, you’ll make the sale, sure, but you’ll regret it, deeply.
    4. Person B visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you’re a liar, so are they, no foundation of trust, no sale

So, out of 8 possible outcomes;

  1. One (1.1.1) gets you the “sale”, ching ching. Je ne regret rien.
  2. One (2.3.1) gets you the “sale”, brick in an iPad carton.
  3. One (1.2.1) doesn’t get the sale, but doesn’t alienate the other person.
  4. Five are no sale, a waste of effort.

If you aren’t getting (1.1.1) in whatever endeavour you are doing, say getting laid on a fucking site, then that is TRUE market forces at work, your honestly marketed product is not desired, even if it is free (like Linux)

If you attempt to change the advert to get a sale then you’re (2.3.1) you changed yourself from an honest vendor to a dishonest vendor, and no honest buyer will ever want to know you again, what’s perhaps more pertinent is you can never make another honest sale, honest buyers who are looking for what you really are will be put off by your advert, which saying something else entirely about you, and there is no way to say hey, wait a minute, none of this is true, I was only trying to make a sale here…

Item 4 above, the other five are no sale, a waste of effort, well, it is no effort at all to set your stall out honestly, it is just being you, take it or leave it, but it is a lot of effort, and an ongoing effort, to maintain an illusion.

Maintaining the illusion and making no sale is a monster waste of effort, but, it is better than maintaining the illusion and selling the brick in the iPad box, one is un-interested potential buyers, the other is someone you ripped off, even if they also paid you in counterfeit notes… y’all richly deserve each other.

——————————————

Like I say, this doesn’t apply just to one small area of your life like getting laid.

Do *****NOT***** confuse this with those who are marketing the illusion, and who also say “fuck ya if ya don’t take me as I am, I ain’t changing for no-one” s these are just people who are more in love with their own delusions than with making an honest sale.

=====================================================

ALL your problems start from an initial assumption that you aren’t worth shit if you haven’t made a sale, you are a failure, a loser, a beta, a nobody, yadda yadda yadda.

As a potential employee there have been situations where potential employers could use me, but were not prepared to pay me what I thought my labour was worth, this doesn’t make me unemployable, they still have the vacancy and I still have my labour to sell.

I have some machine tools that I attempted to sell on fleabay, I put a fair minimum price on them, I didn’t make a sale, I still have them.

I *could* have made a sale, one guy came around and would have given me 50 cents on the dollar and I would have made a sale, but I chose not to, I actually ended up spending more money on the items to get them better than they were and kept them.

At 50c on the $ I would have considered myself exploited, I’d rather give them away or sell for scrap.

This, essentially, is why I am a single man.

My time and interest and effort and loyalty are indeed for sale, I just can’t get any interest in this market at the minimum prices that I am prepared to open negotiations and start haggling at.

I had one guy say to me, “there is this chick on a fucking site, I’d give it one and all that, but she is overweight and has a list of demands that the guy is at least six foot yadda yadda yadda…. how do I deal with that?”

It’s simple, you don’t. she falls into one or more of the (2.x.x) series of options above, no good can come of it, the best possible scenario is you use some forged currency to buy a brick in an iPad box, but the chances are you’ll be spending real money, so it’s even worse.

You know, this is what red pill / MGTOW is *really* all about, it is about not contaminating yourself by associating with liars, and not being a liar yourself, or to yourself, or about yourself.

And yes, this includes whatever you do for 40 hours a week to earn a crust.

You cunts need to learn the difference between COMPROMISE and NEGOTIATION.

Red pill doesn’t fucking compromise, the two are mutually exclusive.

I am open to negotiation, but not compromise, and that makes me “no sale” to 99.9% of the planet, including wimminz and niggerz and employers.

Sadly, even modern dictionaries have re-defined the word, so here it is, the essential difference, because both words are broadly similar and broadly involve two parties in discussion on a given subject.

In a NEGOTIATION there is no expectation of any kind that an agreement between the two parties will be found. Rather, the discussions centre around exploring the possibility that such an agreement can be made.

In a COMPROMISE either such an agreement has already been made, or both parties are working under the assumption that such an agreement is the end goal.

You can say “You have compromised yourself by taking that money from Luigi”

You cannot say “You have negotiated yourself by taking that money from Luigi”

I just spent 15 minutes on-line trying to find a link to a site that did not confabulate the two UTTERLY disparate and separate things into one, and failed… My print edition 1950’s Oxford dictionary had no problems whatsoever differentiating the two, though to be fair http://oxforddictionaries.com/ makes a fair attempt at it, and neither definition mentions the other one, which is as it should be.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The only form of compromise that is acceptable to a red pill man is the sort I made recently with the Noo Pee Cee build, I had to compromise between the spec I would like to build and the money I wanted to spend…. eg one I make with myself, because I can usually trust myself to play both sides of the argument fairly.

Any outside (of me) agency that has as its starting point that I must make some compromise, is kept outside the perimeter of my life, and that is NOT negotiable mother-fucker.

June 26, 2013

Back in the day

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:33 am

When my dad was not much more than a boy, he had an apprenticeship at a local engineering place, of course, back in those days an apprenticeship was something you (or your parents) paid your employer for, and you got no wages the first two years…bda5_2

After a time, he got good enough to do his own work, and at that time there were a lot of Bedford lorries around, and of course a lot of them were ex war department stuff.

One of the jobs that needed doing with some regularity was setting up the back axle and diff, and as it turned out Dad was good at this, so good he got the time to do each one down to under an hour.

Of course, what happened then was every time one of these jobs came in, he got it, and he only managed to get off that mandatory assignment by progressively slowing down each job, until someone else was faster.

I have been posting more lately because basically the last two weeks I have been paid to sit on my ass at home waiting for a call, a couple of days ago I was bored enough to talk to a couple of the other guys, “You busy?”

Turns out they are both working their ass off, one on his 45th different site in a specific chain, interestingly if you draw a line from his home to the site he was at yesterday it is 200 road miles long, and around the middle of it, is where I sit typing this..

So why was he sent to do the job and not me, well, the answer is two fold;

  1. If this week the company has 3 x 40 engineer hours available in my area, and 60 engineer hours work, it makes no odds to them how that is split up, it is no cheaper to give each engineer 20 hours work, than to have one working full time, one working half time, and me sat at home.
  2. He was the Bedford back axle man for this particular job, having already done 44 of the bastards.

He is, in his own words, pissed off with the employment as a whole, I, in my own words, am as happy as a pig in shit, so far in June I have had a total of 13 jobs, and usually that is an allocated 2 hour time slot for each job, plus travelling time to or from site.

Next month should be busier for me, a lot busier, there are a few major projects coming down the line, but it still isn’t WORK, so I will be a happy bunny.

Work for me was when it was 34 degrees Celsius outside in the shade, and then you went down into an engine room all day with operating machinery and did hard physical and technical labour with the sweat oozing out of every pore. That was work.

Sometimes playing with main engines, some times playing with gen sets, some times playing with pumps, some times playing with human waste (shit piss and tampons) in clogged holding tanks.

Nowadays I’m paid to drive around and effectively play text based video games (there ain’t a lot of difference between “you are in a cave, there is an angry dwarf…” and cisco config stuff… ) for an hour or two, or move some routers / switches and patch cables, now and again I will swap a mainboard, psu or hard disk.

When I finish a job I’m not smeared from head to toe with an amalgam of lube oil, diesel, grinding disk compound, welding rod spatter, lithium grease and human shit.

Yesterday, cos guys are like that, I sent a text to a mate of mine trapped in a job he wants out of, but there are no real alternative jobs in the county and anyway his house won’t sell, the text said worked two hours last tuesday, and had an attachment of the pint of beer I was sitting drinking outside a pub.beer5… lrfh

He sent me a text back… “Bastard”

This is the same guy who was telling me a few weeks ago that my job would never do him, it just didn’t pay enough money, after I had explained it paid ENOUGH money in exchange for bugger all work and zero personal responsibility….

So after the beer I meet some old skank, take her back to mine, dump two loads of cum into her and then she is off, back to her latest boyfriend… it’s an open relationshit… apparently…

I crawl into bed and sleep the sleep of the innocent, wake up this mo’nin, hullo clouds, hullo sky, hullo coffee, it’s a hard fucking life, but someone has to do it… lrfh.

Back in the day, when I was working in ambient 40+, smeared in shit and grease, I was trying to achieve something, I was trying to be the best and what I did, I was trying to earn respect, I was trying to earn money, I was trying to “make” something of myself.

No young boy actually wanted a Lamborghini countach, you wanted a lambo to impress and pull GIRLS… that was the fucking truth… sure, it was dressed up as one-upmanship over other guys, but again, that was just to get the girls…

I spent a lot of my life either directly or indirectly trying to get a woman, or keep a woman, cos, again, it was just one of those things you did, everyone knew that… course, I never really called it that, I called it trying to earn money, trying to be ace at my trade, trying to make something of myself.

My now departed dad, well, NOW I realise there where a whole lot of things he didn’t tell me, why should he, I would either work it out for myself, or I wouldn’t, and there was no other way to that knowledge than working it out for myself.

With 20/20 hindsight, he dropped a LOT of hints, and said a lot of things that just sounded like off the cuff remarks to a blue pill me, funny as fuck.

Even funnier now, now I get the joke, and I was the joke.

Same sort of off the wall shit I am saying to my mate who I sent the beer pic to, which he don’t really get, yet, one day he will.

My mate, like the guy on his 45th install, ain’t happy in his job, which is crazy, because they both have great fucking jobs that they could do in their sleep, but unfortunately they give a shit, and are trying to get ahead, and MAKE SOMETHING OF THEMSELVES.

Thing is, you can’t make something out of yourself when a big part of what you call yourself isn’t you, but just a load of shit you’ve picked up along the way.

When I was 20 I read a quote, it said; “Death is not the end of life, character is the end of life.”

Like a lot of the off the wall stuff my dad used to say to me, it made me laugh and I thought it funny enough to remember and quote again, but, I didn’t fucking GET it.

Character is, of course, me + all that shit that goes to make up “trying to make something of myself”

Take away all that shit that goes to make up “trying to make something of myself” and what is left is ME, and suddenly life is no longer over.

You know, I don’t even regret the 50 years of my life that have gone by, before I started to really get all this shit, because the fact is that much time and experience pretty much HAD to go by, before I could get this shit…. you can’t make a 40 year old VSOP Cognac in less than 40 years.

Take at look at this sad cunt http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2347887/Money-doesnt-buy-happiness-says-Bernie-Ecclestone.html

The guy is worth 3 billion Pounds, and says ‘I am not sure what happiness is’

Well Bernie, I am worth about 3 thousand Pounds, and I dunno what love is, but I am happy.

But then look what Bernie did with his life, worked like a cunt trying to “make something of himself”, got married (and divorced) three fucking times, had two daughters who are loyal to their mum, not to him… see a pattern here..?

Of COURSE the cunt is miserable…

He should have quit when he was 50, in 1980 when he was only worth a few hundred million, and retired to a tropical island and spent the rest of his days wandering around bollock naked trying to perfect coconut wine.

As my quote above specified, Bernie died fucking decades ago, so did everyone else you can shake a stick at.

My employer doesn’t get it, all they can think of is fucking “career advancement” CCNA > CCDA > CCNP CCIP CCDP CCVP, cos you will earn lot’s more munnay.

Dude, I am in my fucking fifties, I already have all the qualifications I want, if I was CCn/i/d/vP I’d be expected to work my fucking ass off, pressure, responsibility, yadda yadda yadda, what the fuck.

Back in the day, when you retired from a company after many years of service, they gave you a fucking gold watch, which was symbolic of the fucking company giving YOU back YOUR time, to do with as you wish (remember, public timekeeping was used so workers could get to work on time).. well thanks for fucking nothing.

Back in the day, I had CHARACTER, now, I have ME.

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