Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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got that wrong
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Like my brownhouse:
   feeling marginalized
Wednesday, May 12 1999
At work today, I kept experiencing the feeling that I was being marginalized. Not only was a new crack shot programmer hired and immediately set to the task of reworking my web-server copy over process, and not only is he probably earning three times my salary, but I wasn't even asked to do the ASP front end for the new system. This particular series of slights was actually enough to make me consider leaving this place and never coming back. Marty is the one responsible for all of this, and I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that he's terribly out of touch with the skills of the programmers he's charged with managing.
So, as I left work today, there was no enthusiasm for work, no desire to stay past 5:00 pm and certainly no desire to participate in the Wednesday evening summer ritual of company volleyball on the beach.
I went home beneath windy, cloudy, angry but rainless skies. Kim cooked dinner and, despite the many things I had to do, I did what I could to allay her concerns and convince her that she's very important to me.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?990512

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