"The Biggest Decisions Are Made Between the Hours of Midnight and 4:00 a.m..."

(*Dedicated to the two co-workers who explained to me in depth what the title of this post means... you know who you are!!)

I don't usually rant about work... I've skirted the issues I've had with incompetent management on the sly in this blog, and my supervisor, Darth Sista T, is a good supervisor. I don't have any serious problems with her...

Now Darth Sista T, you know my favorite saying...

"Ya'll best have my money in the bank every other Friday or I'm gonna turn some stuff over up in here!!!!!"

Basically, all of management can go sit on a tack. (This is my politically correct way of saying that they can kiss my ass).

As long as I get my bread...

whatever...

...but there is some B.S. going on in my workplace that has me, I don't know, scratching my head...

We have that favoritism thang going on on the job. With few exceptions, the people who kiss the most ass tend to get the promotions. Me? I don't kiss ass. (When you start manufacturing the air I breathe, then maybe we can talk... But until then... Go sit on a tack...)

I know, favoritism occurs on every job. There are managers that don't speak to me because I won't get on my knees and kiss or blow... I don't have to do such things. Like I tell Darth Sista T sometimes...

"I, Ladylee, am brilliant..."

In my opinion, only terribly insecure people, who are unsure of their knowledge, do such things.

But something peculiar is going on... And a couple of wise co-workers (you know, those co-workers who have been on the job for umpteen years and who can usually be counted on to accurately predict what's going down) spoke the following words out of the depths of their wisdom and knowledge...

"The Biggest Decisions are made Between the Hours of midnight and 4:00 a.m."

Hmm... I thought to myself. Between the hours of midnight and 4:00 a.m., people are sleeping...

Hmm... either that or....

Twerkin' it out.

"Oh my," I exclaimed. "That explains everything!!

"Twerkin' it out." You know, getting your freak on, screwing, getting that ass tapped... I can go on and on...

But you know what I mean...

The situation at work: Two upper level managers are "twerkin' it out". (And to keep it as generic as possible, let's just call them "Oldgirl" and "Oldboy"). And what's so funny is that they are not even hiding it. Co-workers have spotted them together here and there. And I hear tell that they go walking up and down Peachtree Street hand in hand.

How cute.

The female manager, Oldgirl, is the big boss hog, and heads up the whole Science department. Oldboy was just a mere supervisor. He started dating Oldgirl, and lo and behold, he got a promotion.

Big problem. Oldgirl was in charge of who got the promotion. She picked Oldboy... ('Scuse me... can I get an ethics in government handbook over here??) Other applicants for that important position complained to headquarters. The application process started all over again.

Again, Oldboy got the job... (Geeezzz... where is that ethics handbook?)

All Lab employees were called into a big meeting... (I didn't attend the meeting... I asked Darth Sista T if they were giving out money or if it had anything to do with me getting my check every other Friday. As usual, she frowned up at me and walked away... which meant I wasn't gonna show up.) But the hiring of Oldboy was the subject (on the sly). Basically upper-UPPER level management told everybody if they didn't like it, then tough titty!!

Man, I thought, it's like Oldboy is in the bedroom giving out directions in mid-stroke...

I...[stroke]...Need...[pump]... a promotion [breast rub]...

Okay, whatever... I knew a couple of the well qualified applicants who had applied for the job and I wanted to run up on them and smack them in the back of their heads. This all has to be highly unethical... They should have complained more, filed some grievances, filed with EEO, turned over a few desks, called the news stations, had a sit-in...

...they should have done SOMETHING more!!!!

Oh well... Oldboy speaks to me frequently. I usually don't pay much attention to what he says... On an occasion after all of this happened, I just looked at him, trying not to laugh, and thought "Dang playa, you twerked it out and got a promotion!!"

Fast forward to March of this year. Oldboy, who happens to always cheese in my face when he sees me, decides he wants to snatch one of my chemical instruments for his lab section. Darth Sista T was a little distraught and exasperated. Me? I'm just standing around thinking...

"Dang, Oldboy is the Original Player. Dude is twerkin' somethin' !"

Kind of like a little something was going on the night before...

between the oh so critical hours of midnight and 4:00 a.m....

"Honey...[stroke]...I...[kiss]...need...[stroke]...an instrument...[double stroke]!!

Take the damn instrument. As long as I don't have to fix it when it breaks down, or something, who cares. (This is management's problem with me: they try to railroad me, because I am knowledgable, into doing double work... at which time I have a hissy fit/temper tantrum... enough so that they think I am crazy in the head, and leave me alone...)

My biggest concern, you see, is...

"My paycheck best be in the bank on Friday!"

And personally, I don't think I should have to do any more than a typical government employee, i.e., I should have the right to sit on my ass like those people who kiss ass!!

So they take the instrument. I do my best to not be the "Evil Ladylee" that I am rumored to be (due to the fact that I don't get on my knees and kiss ass or blow), and help them dismantle it and move it to another building. Over the past few months, if they need tools, ferrules, column nuts, etc... or if they need me to come over and correct an error, just dial my extension...

"Ya'll call me if ya'll need some help now. Remember, call me up if you have questions, need tools...anything... call me!! I got nothin' but love for ya'll. I'll holla!!!"

I get along pretty well with the employees in that group. I inquired about doing a 90 day work detail in that group, but one of the employees let me know, jokingly yet seriously, that I would have to dye my hair blond to get in over there. "Oldboy likes blondes!!" That's not gonna happen. Plus, there's only one black person in there group. (Hmph... I'm a chocolate sister. I don't even pass the paper bag test. I don't have to say anything else. I decided against applying for the detail...) Plus a wonderfully intelligent Asian oldgirl, a great colleague who I could talk good science with, who has since left the job, told me that Oldboy treated her like she was subhuman.

And you know, LadyLee's not going for that... My Grandaddy told me long time ago that my Grandma didn't get down on her knees scrubbing white people's floors for $3.00 per day so that I'd be looking ass crazy...

But I digress...

Anyway, they (those group members) are knowledgable people. (I have a tendency to dodge ignorant folks...which means, I dodge management quite often). I don't hesitate to help them out either... I've stopped what I was doing several times and taken the little 2 minute walk to the other building and helped them out...

Oldboy's stroke action had gotten me involved in a big project (one that was supposedly negotiated away with the instrument-- Glory!! I was happy about that!) that I was involved in previously when I had that instrument in my lab. (Oldboy's stroke action is too fierce!). My supervisor Darth Sista T set things up so that I could train someone in that group, then get the hell on. She got me out of getting caught up with having to do double work...

Good looking out, Darth Sista T. You are quite the witty gal! Plus, I bet you knew I was gonna disappear and take, I don't know, maybe a month of sick leave if you got me caught up with that foolishness, didn't you???

Well, I lovingly trained the person I was suppose to train. This didn't bother me much because I love to teach the tricks of the trade concerning this particular instrument....

Fast forward... Present day, late October, early November... Darth Sista T calls me into her office. (As usual, I take my time getting there because I'm trying to figure out WTF I did wrong that day...)

She's sitting there looking all exasperated...

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.
"They want another instrument."

I laughed. "Darth Sista, I told you, Oldboy is twerkin' it out...Dude is gonna take quite a few instruments out of our lab. Nothing like good twerk action.."

His stroke must be the bomb!!

Honey...[stroke]... one instrument is not good enough...[poke]... I... need [breast grab]...another...[triple stroke]... one... Call those people down in that lab [stroke] and get me some more equipment...[scream] orgasm follows...

She doesn't find it funny... She just shakes her head...

"And another thing...," Darth Sista continued, "they say we gave them a bad instrument..."

Now THAT's when I got pissed. All this damn unethical crap going on around on this good Gub'ment job, and someone is accusing us... no, ME... of being vindictive and sending over a bad instrument.

These folks were messing with my integrity...

I was ready go cuss some folks out... I,"Evil Ladylee", was ready to verbally chin check a few folks...

But I have a "72 hour rule" for myself, and it has worked 90% of the time. The rule is "If I am pissed (which is usually the case) don't go complain or verbally shank whoever (usually management) until 72 hours after the incident. " This usually works 90% of the time... The other 10% of time? Well you know...

Ladylee does what Ladylee has to do... I talk a lot of shit, then turn in my leave slip and go home for one or two days.

I was going to go over to the other building and let the people in that group have it. I thought of all the things I would say if I ran into them, etc. Stuff like...

"You can take as many instruments as you want... But you need to refrain from impuning my integrity!"

I've been wanting to use Condoleeza Rice's verbal chin check of Barbara Boxer for so long...

But this is one time that my "72 hour rule" worked, and it worked well...

Oldboy ran up in me a couple of days later, with one of his employees in tow, while I was casually walking down the hall minding my own business...

"Management said that we could use the instrument today."
My supervisor wasn't in. And I hadn't talked with her yet. "Hey Oldboy, no one has told me anything."
He looked at me with a half-scowl... "So when will your supervisor or her supervisor be in?"
I shrugged my shoulders and walked away, leaving him and his employee standing there.

I, LadyLee, was not at all threatened. I, as most of management knows, do not answer to anyone except the Darth Sista T herself.

Oldboy didn't seem to realize that I was not under the spell of his stroke action. And, um, it was not late in the midnight hour... It was nine o'clock in the morning...

I talked to the employees in Oldboy's group four days later on Halloween day. They said they didn't say that we gave them a bum instrument, and I should know how Oldboy is... He says what he has to say to get what he wants to get...

"But Oldboy is tapping that ass!! He's twerkin' it out. He can just tell his girlfriend he wants something out of another group and she makes it happen! Why is he making up extra crap? Especially when he knows Darth Sista T don't roll like that. And ya'll KNOW that I don't sabotage equipment!"

"Calm down, Ladylee. We know, Ladylee. He just made it up. It's all political. He just tells Oldgirl what he wants and she makes a call and gets it for him... He just threw in a little excuse about why he needed it."

I felt a tad bit better after that. I was glad my friendly co-workers hadn't made it up. I had a Wal-mart bag full of candy and I generously shared it with them. We sat around and talked for a minute.

In walks Oldboy...

He looks all "dapper". (Dude is a strange dresser. My friend and co-worker Hen-Dog pumps Oldboy up and makes him think he is a snazzy dressin' pimp... Oh wait... he is a pimp, ain't he?)

"Hi ya, Ladylee. How's it going." His smile is unusually broad today.
"It's going fine." I am standing there thinking to myself "Oldboy, you are laying some serious pipe!"
"Um, Oldboy, you want some Halloween candy??" I stretched the bag out in his direction.
"No thanks, LadyLee."

He goes on talking to me like nothing's wrong. I'm just standing there thinking... "Dude you got some serious twerk action going on!"

Don't get me wrong... I have no problems with twerk action on the job. If you can stand people all up in your business, then more power to you! But it kind of pisses me off that the laying of good pipe is influencing decisions on the job. I mean, we're in the middle of a special project, and we really NEED our instruments right now...

And you know what the real kick in the head is? No one in that group has been over to use the instrument. The instrument has been sitting idle for five days. We could have been using the instrument for our project or even for our routine analytical work. I informed my supervisor that no one has come over to use it. She said she'll send a nice, polite e-mail. I told her to make sure the font was large and in all caps. And make it red...

"Shoot, man," I said to one of the older employees on Friday. "Don't Oldgirl know we need all the equipment we can get to knock out our own project? We are so far behind!!"

This wise female employee looked at me and winked her eye. "LadyLee, we don't have the special equipment between our legs to influence those decisions..."

"Always remember..."

"The biggest decisions are made between the hours of midnight and four in the morning..."