Short answer? For me, yes. And apparently, so does bloggery. I'd like to apologize for being light on the ethical pondering the last couple days, folks. It's been a heckuva week at work, and I've been so swamped I'm literally looking up from my inbox after midnight wondering where the heck (and
who the heck) I am.
Ever wondered whether you're speaking different languages (or inhabiting different planets) when you're trying to communicate with a particular coworker-who-shall-not-be-named? Ever felt like tearing your hair out (or theirs) every time you're forced to cooperate with a certain so-and-so on a project?
In other words, does someone at your job make you wanna scream?
I'm blessed to have a team of incredibly supportive, intelligent, and above all,
reasonable people in my workplace. However, that's not always been the case. There've been times when I've butted heads with people on the job, and when people have butted right back at me. It's awful. It's frustrating. And...
I'm pretty proud of my Midwestern
work ethic; efficient, steady, reliable. Still, I spend a lot of time imagining what I would do with my lottery winnings - pay off student loans, pay off family debts, buy a house (or three), invest, dole out a million or so to close friends. You know, the usual.
When I was in India a couple of years ago, I awoke early one morning to voices in the kitchen. Grumpy, groggy, jet-lagged, hair askew, I stumbled into the kitchen to find my mom talking to the milkman in the kitchen.
My mother motioned me over so she could introduce me; she seemed fairly excited. I wasn't in the mood to meet anyone, let alone the milkman, but I tried to put my best face on.
It wasn't until he left that I found out why my mom was so excited for him. Apparently, our milkman in India had become a millionaire (yeah, millionaire) by buying a couple acres of land in a prime area before the I.T. boom. It was an urban legend, once in million Cinderella story. (And then they made a movie about it, I think it was called Slumdog Millionaire or some such. I kid, I kid.)

As lab tech Raymond Clark III appeared in a New Haven court today to be charged
with the murder of 24-year-old Annie Le, killed by "traumatic asphyxiation" just
days before she was to be married and found stuffed in a wall of the Yale lab
where she was a graduate student, the AP is reporting:
New Haven Police Chief James Lewis said Le's death was a case
of workplace violence. "It is important to note that this is not about urban crime,
university crime, domestic crime but an issue of workplace violence, which is
becoming a growing concern around the country," Lewis said, adding he
wasn't ruling out additional charges.
Also according to the AP, Yale's
president issued a statement to the Yale community saying:
"This incident could have happened in any city, in any university,
or in any workplace. It says more about the dark side of the human soul than it
does about the extent of security measures."
This is a terrible story, and
what makes it doubly frightening to me is this notion of "coworkers gone
wild" or gone "postal," as we used to say, before that became too un-PC.
When I ran the idea for this post by Paddy, she snorted and said, "Ha, do people
really?" And I mumbled something like, "Er, I'm sure some unethical crumb bums must." (Skip work on their birthdays, that is.)
Truth is, I may have done it once. Or twice. Or mumbledy-mumble times.
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So I'll just put the question out there:
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