Whip Me, Beat Me, Make Me Write Bad Checks

No, this is not a French tickler. It's a male cat penis. Those barbs are actually barbs and very sharp.

Have you ever seen cats mate? The male mounts the female and sinks his fangs into her neck while savaging her vagina while he humps and pumps. It's a sadomasochist's dream -- a painful and ugly dream, but a dream in the face of reality all the same.

By the way, those barbs are sharp and I think they're made of the same material that makes up nails, sharp, filed, pointed, dagger-like nails. Ooh, hurt me good.

I believe that is what was used on me earlier this week when I found out the latest way in which my bosses are raping me financially. It goes like this: statistics are based on lines typed/edited, but the statistics are also not available for review by the employee because the statistics that show up in the neat little doohickey we are supposed to use is not set up to detect when a job was typed, only when it went through QC (quality control) and was flagged or corrected and points deducted. Let's forget for a moment that often the way in which the employee is corrected is often wrong since their understanding of the grammar, punctuation, and spelling rules are different from old dinosaurs like me, and I have actually read the AAMT Style Guide (which is the bible of the medical transcription industry). We may request a reversal of errors counted against the employee, which is how they keep slapping us with outdated data (2 weeks are allowed for reversals to take effect). Now I find that the statistics that I have been told to rely on are not reliable.

Does it hurt enough yet?

Do it harder!

Statistics -- the ones the company rely on -- are based on the date that the mistakes were actually made and not the date when they show up on the erroneous database. Ooh, deeper, harder!

By the time I had finished navigating the erroneous database it was obvious that there is no way an employee can win against their crooked system. The statistics that I have relied on are about as useful as tits on a boar. Oh, goody.

Just when I thought I couldn't be reamed any more, they found a way. Well, actually, they already had a way, but that didn't become apparent until I questioned the statistics they send me every week. I showed a very different set of statistics and emailed my boss to show her (cut & paste) why. That's when the news came out that I had been relying on an unreliable database only there for employee peace of mind, the kind of peace of mind one has when one is fed lies and reamed without the benefit of Vaseline or K-Y.

Consider me reamed again.

Oh, well, what does it matter?

I spoke with one of the employee herders last night when she asked me to fill in at one of the other hospitals to clear their backlog. As we bantered back and forth, I found out that she used to make $25/hr doing what I have been doing for over 30 years. I used to make $3600/mo, but that is not possible any more, not with the new statistics and unreliable databases and supervisors and managers and corporate bean counters. I'm lucky if I make $15/hr and that's working flat out and picking my way through the mine field set up to explode in my face -- or my backside -- at the merest brush of air.

I have decided at last to supplement my income -- by going back to writing. At least I control more of the product and my results and the only people I have to deal with about the quality of my work are editors who remind me of my grammar, sentence structure, story architecture, and punctuation. That I can handle.

And I'm getting back into editing -- for select clients in case you wanted to jump on the bandwagon and load me down with so much editing I won't be able to do my own writing since I am engaged in wage slavery day job and still have to make my bills and necessary expenses. Sorry, but that is the way it goes. Wage slavery Day jobs require actually working and being there a set number of hours per day -- or every day if one works for my employers (calls when I'm asleep, calls when it's my day off, calls during work to cover their collective asses and bail them out, calls, calls, calls . . . ad infinitum ad nauseam). They keep telling me what an asset I am to their company while stripping me of every possible penny I have already earned because I cannot and have not met their statistical models with any effectiveness.

Hurt me some more.

Oh, well, it was ever thus. And probably always will be -- until I learn to game their system as well as they do.

And so the feline penile barbs raking my insides to force my body to dance to its evil raking tune. Just in case throughout this rambling you have forgotten what this is about, please let me refresh your memory. 

They are designed to rough up the walls of the female cat's vagina, supposedly to stimulate ovulation. That's akin to 1000 maniacs making sure the virgin is impregnated with their evil spawn.

 

It looks small and somewhat harmless, but the pain is in the barbs. Pity the female who is faced with a double-headed barbed penis. Those barbs hurt so good.

The only lubricant is the one you add yourself. The problem is there is no time for lubricant when the perpetrator comes at you from behind in the dark while you're bent over looking for the flashlight.

That is all. Disperse.