Archive for April, 2012

April 30, 2012

urk

You guys know Ike Turner right? A famous musician (and wifebeater). Now, how do you pronounce his name? Simple, if you know how to pronounce ‘like’. Just take away the letter ‘L’, you get ‘Ike’.

There’s this Iranian guy, who’s a customer of my soon-to-be-ex-company’s – name’s Ike. We all call him ‘Ike’. He’s an asshole, but that’s beside the point. The thing is about my boss not knowing how to pronounce his name ‘Ike’. My boss (FuckChicken), for some weird fucking reason, calls him ‘Urk’ instead of ‘Ike’. It’s as if he has been watching too much caveman movies or something. Urk. What the fuck.

I mean, not that it’s going to cause any adverse effect or anything but, it’s plain fucking annoying. I have been trying to repeatedly hint him, that the guy’s name is ‘Ike’ (goddammit), but he’d just call him ‘Urk’. He seems to lack of the cognitive ability to comprehend even the simplest of things. That actually kind of prompted me to ask this – if FuckChicken couldn’t figure out how to pronounce a simple 3 letter word despite being repeatedly hinted by almost everyone he met, how the hell could anyone entrust him to run a department? (I wouldn’t even let this guy to take care of my goldfish – if I have one…). There’s something just so plain wrong with Company Y… and it affects all lifeforms in and around it. (and that pretty much includes the bunch of iguanas living in the toxic river next to the cafeteria).

And I’m just glad I resigned… because I couldn’t stand another second working under this shitbag.

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April 26, 2012

the event

When I went into FuckChicken’s (my boss) office to tell him I’m quitting, he had just finished his breakfast. There were some remnants of what he had at the corner of his mouth, of what resembled uncooked rotten egg or animal sperm. It was a Friday morning, and I chose that very time just so that I could ruin his Friday, and the whole of his weekend. And he was most certainly unprepared of what I was about to tell him.

“Hey boss, just want to talk to you about my resignation.”

His mouth went wide agape, and I could see his half chewed food in his mouth. About one and a half second later, he asked

“What resignation?”
“Me. My resignation.”
“What?”
“I’m resigning boss. I’m here to tell you that.”

His reaction after that can be best described like a doctor breaking the bad news to him that he’s having a terminal stage testicular cancer. There was no comment, no nothing. He just went blank, staring at me. Shocked shitless. But that was just the first part of the blow. I was about to deliver the aftershock…

“And I’m going for a short notice. 1 month.”

He got shocked even more shit-fucking-less. It’s like he’s just been told that he’s also having a terminal stage leukemia. It was before long he managed to whimper out something…

“But… why?”
“I got a new job.”
“How much are they paying you?”
“A lot more.”
“And how much is that?”

He was delusional enough to think that it was about the money. It wasn’t about the money. It’s never about the money for me. Most of the people I know probably don’t believe it when I say, I never worked for money. But it’s the truth. I never give a fuck about the money. It’s not that I’m rich or anything, but it’s just the way it works for me. During the interview for the new job, the new manager asked for my asking pay, I just told him – pay me for what you think I’m worth. And that’s that.

“It’s not about the money.”
“I just need to know, so that I can benchmark if we’re doing it bad here.”
“I’d still quit and cross over, if they pay me less.”

He stopped asking about the money after that, for that fucker knew that I was pissed off about the system and everything. He continued to bitch about how short the 1 month notice is, and continued to rant about how difficult it is for him to get another candidate to fill my void. No shit sherlock. Who would want to have the workload of 4 engineers with no credit given…

“The new company actually offered to pay for me to leave in 24 hours. But I declined, and asked for 1 month instead. You should feel grateful.”
“Ok, I appreciate that. But it would really help if you could stay for at least another week…”
“That 1 week isn’t going to do jack shit on anything.”
“But it would mean a lot to me.”

He’s pulling the pity card. Pathetic asswipe. Like I would care what it means to him. Pissed, I then stood up and started to lecture him about how screwed up the whole thing has been. We engineers are required by the management to come up with risk management plans and cockloads of pFMEA sessions to foretell and mitigate risks when it comes to their engineering process. But on the other hand, these degenerates would do mistakes like overloading and abusing their engineers with tonnes of bullshit donkey jobs, and not having a contingency plan when any one of them leaves. And in my case, I have about 5 business units on my hands. My departure would leave a void so fucking big, that it’d suck passing light into it like a fucking black hole. He should have thought about this possibility even before I alerted him about my ‘shit about to hit the fan’ situation. But no, he’d sit on his ass all day and do nothing about it, but only to beg me to stay for another week when I tell him I’m gonna quit…

“I think 1 month is enough. I have already prepared the transition plan. You won’t have enough time to hire anyway, so just get a surrogate for a temporary transition, that should do the trick.”

In other words, it was a hint that he’s going to have to worry about that problem himself. In fact, teaching him that (the surrogate thing) was like doling out a donation in sympathy of his retardation. I have already done what I could. Had he been a good manager, he would have had a plan to contain this predicament without being this pathetic, if not avoiding this whole thing in the first place. He fucking deserved it.

A few days later, he actually pleaded me not to spread any ‘bad comments’ about the company, as he doesn’t want any of the ‘young engineers’ having a bad impression of his management. I told him I won’t, because I don’t have to. Half of them are already looking for jobs, and all of them already knew long ago that he’s phony. That motherfucker doesn’t even know he’s going against the traffic. I weep for you, Company Y.

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April 22, 2012

I quit

I quit. The last straw has broken the camel’s back. If you’re good at reading between the lines, you’d probably get the sarcasm veiled in the letter below.

To:
[My manager]
[his position]

CC:
[My HR manager]
HR manager

Resignation

I hereby tender my resignation as Senior Quality Engineer (Quality Assurance department) effective today. Tentatively, I would like to request for my last working day to be on 18 MAY 2012. In compliance to the company’s policy, I have to serve 2 months resignation notice, therefore I am willing to pay the company the sum equivalent of 1 month of my current salary for the shorter notice.

I would like to express that it has been a pleasure of mine to work with the team in your organization for the past 1.5 years. I appreciated every opportunity that has been pitched to me, and that I believe, has helped to make me a more experienced person. But the time has come for a change (for me). Career advancement opportunities have led me to accept an offer from another MNC and this was done only after a thorough consideration. I hope you’d understand and give me your blessing on this.

I wish [Company Y] continued success in all its future business endeavours, and great times ahead for yourself as well. During the transition period, I vouch to do everything in my capacity to ensure a proper handover of all my present responsibilities to the replacement engineer.

Sincerely,

……………………………………….
Michael Ooi

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April 9, 2012

douchebag cyclists

Notice all of a sudden, everyone seems to be in the new fad of cycling nowadays? Not sure who started that but, it’s fast becoming an eyesore now. Cycling used to be a cool past time, until some bunch of people started to make it look like a staple past time for douchebags. And before you know it, every douchebag starts to embrace this activity like how hippies flock to puff some joints, get high and have sex with animals. I know I’m gonna draw a lot of flak here, because a lot of my friends are in this bandwagon. But you know what? I don’t really care.

First thing of all, you’ve got to barf on the ill sense of fashion there. If you think golfers looked real fucking bad, you should have seen how these ‘cyclists’ dress up. Oh I’m sure you’ve seen them around before. Spandex suits, tights, Oakley shades and helmet (whatever you call it). You see, professional cyclists needed to wear that kind of garb to make themselves more aerodynamic, and perhaps to reduce the impedance of their every movement – because every second they save, could mean a gold medal in the game. But these dickwads, they’ve got no seconds to save here. These wannabes are recreational cyclists. They cycle around town, whiffing carbon monoxide, puff a cigarette or two during the 2 hour break. The aerodynamic-ness is probably regressed by the massive beer belly or the twin man-boobs there. So what the fuck’s with the tights there? Coz they’re fucked up, that’s why.

And perhaps you’d hear a few of them brag about which bicycle frame they’re going to import from Europe, and how light its molded carbon body’s gonna be. I was thinking, if this cycling business is all about exercising or sports, then isn’t it better that the bicycle’s heavier? (you’ll exert more energy to move the darn thing) Why bother spending a few thousands more to buy a ‘lightweight’ carbon body bicycle? What’s the fucking point? Go faster? By 20 parsecs? Doesn’t make any sense at all. Notice that these are the same type of people who’d bitch about how Gardenia is 30 cents more expensive than Masimmo (or something like that) and makes them think it warrants for a boycott campaign, but would spend an arm and a leg on a stupid bicycle that is probably only 2 seconds faster than a regular one. This whole shebang kinda reminds me of those horsepower increasing stickers and spastic screw-on spoilers you see on a rustic bumpkin’s car.

Cycling used to be a fun thing I did before as a kid (I used to cycle 15 clicks a day to work), and I did it with a pair of bermudas, flip flops and faulty brakes. I had shitloads of scars on both my knees from bicycle stunts that went wrong, and so did my cousins. Was it ever about showing off? Nope, 2 wheels and working pedals were all that we needed for a bike. But look at it now. Cycling has turned so gay, that it makes gay people think it is gay.

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