The B*tch is Back

Well, folks, its been a while. It’s been about two and a half months, actually, since my triumphant return to the world of university student relations and freedom from the drudgery of McUnderemployment. I know, I know…I’ve been atrociously remiss in updating this lil ol’ blog, and you’ve got a ton of questions. Like, did I actually send the letter to the former boss’ supervisor (didn’t have to; the effing crazy-ass McTweaker got busted for selling pills to kids)? Have I perfected the fine art of not blowing crud all over my car when using the leaf blower (and have I decided whether it’s a yard tool or a sex toy?)? Does the Ass Crack of Death still scare the bejeezus out of me when I’m trying to get yard maintenance done? And most importantly, am I still running around the yard quacking like a penguin ?

All very good questions, and we’ll get to them all in good time (yeah, yeah, you mutter…we’ve heard all that before…). Like Lindsay after a month in rehab, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.

I digress, though. The reason I’m writing today (other than to re-inaugurate the blog) is to take a moment to recollect a bit before pressing onwards with new shenanigans, misadventures, and miscellaneous narcissistic ramblings.

These past two-and-a-half months have been not only very very muy extremely-mente busy (as you can probably tell by my disappearance here), but they’ve been remarkably enriching. Aside from learning a shit-ton of stuff (like where not to stay when spending a week in El Stabbo…er, Paso, Texas and what to do when a crazy smelly homeless person accosts you on the public transit), I’ve really genuinely enjoyed myself. I’m doing something I love doing again, I’m being paid to do it, I’m traveling all over this beautiful lil country, and I’m buying fabooooosh new clothes (and margarita mixes, if you can’t tell). I work on a vibrant, beautiful campus (yes, that’s code for ‘the guys are friggin’ hawt’) within easy walking distance of one of the gayest Starbucks’ I’ve ever seen (I mean, really, a guy skipped up to me to take my order once), have my old lunchtime workout routine back, and work with awesome people who firmly believe in happy hour. And best yet (other than the hot guys in the weight room with year-round tans, of course), I no longer have nightmares about twitchy tweaked-out bosses, smell like french fries, or have to work with small children and cranky old people.

Pretty cool, huh? Ideal, yes?


And with all this employment bliss, you’d think I’d have calmed into an enlightened soul, a kinder, gentler, more zen-ful version of myself, right? Right?



Uh….yeaaaah, no. Turns out I’m not just a feisty, belligerent shit-stain when I’m stuck in less-than-ideal situations or circumstances. I can’t blame the Year of Hell for my (sometimes! only sometimes!) surly disposition, or boredom and angst for the cutting snarkitude.

Apparently, I’m just an asshat.

As support for this Universal Truth According to Zach (UTATZ), I humbly submit the following slightly-snarky memo I fired off yesterday afternoon in response to a denied travel per diem reimbursement:

Dear X,

I was not aware it is university policy to withhold meal per diem when hotels advertise continental breakfasts, but it strikes me as a distinctly tight-fisted and wrong-headed approach on the part of your department.  Here’s why: as anyone in a position with frequent and extended travel can attest, there is not always time before rushing off to morning business-related events to stop by the hotel lobby for food; in fact, my morning travel routine typically consists of grabbing breakfast on the go between recruitment venues and ‘living’ in a rental vehicle, not enjoying a leisurely breakfast of waffles and eggs at the local hotel. 

If I DID have time for a nice, leisurely breakfast while on university business, I wouldn’t be working very hard.  Certainly, the Travel department wouldn’t want to encourage that, right? 

Yes, hotels do supply breakfast (but really, have you SEEN what passes for breakfast at some of these hotels these days?).  Please don’t tell me that waffles and eggs make a highly transportable on-the-go meal, though; if we are expected to eat such breakfasts on the go, I would hope the related dry-cleaning costs for eggs spilled on suits while navigating freeways would also be a reimbursable expense. 

And I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to be driving an unfamiliar city, have my non-portable-but-hotel-provided-and-therefore-university-mandated breakfast spill all over my too-expensive-for-my-meager-salary suit, and careen off the side of said unfamiliar road.  I suspect the university wouldn’t like this, either. 

Just my thoughts on the situation.  On a side note, I sure hope the coffee I grabbed in the hotel each morning was worth $24.00. 

Very Respectfully,

See? And you were all worried that recent events would lead to a warmer, fuzzier Zach. Psyyyyyche!