Vacation, Man-tits and Management

I'm in Tennessee. On vacation. In Tennessee. No beach. No surf. No 'special' taxi drivers. No music without a banjo. Tennessee, a land time forgot only after it forgot West Virginia.

In my last post, I mentioned the gentle roar of my wife, snoring beside me as she slumbered. Tonight, the gentle snoring is less pronounced, yet, on an airbed to her right sleeps my sister. My sister, who obviously has a deviated septum and a wonderful knack for calling elk to our window as she sleeps.

Yet, again, this is vacation. And, I'm thankful that my sister is able to share at least a small amount of time with us here in the land of Deliverance and man-boobs. Yes, this is the land of obesity. Man boobs are as prevalent as pine trees and molasses here in Tennessee. I know that as I've aged I've padded my midsection with a few pounds of survival fuel, but here in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, I'm surrounded by survivalists who plan on living off body fat for years after the apocalypse.

However, despite my observations at the inhumanly intolerable indoor waterpark here where I reside, I'm not going to write about the effects of Big Macs, french fries, gravy and ballpark franks. The sights, smells and visions that will haunt me after this week do not compare to the horrors of what has preceded this vacation.... the sights, sounds and experiences recently thrown my way as a result of, *gulp* , my job.

I know, I shouldn't even be thinking of my job while on vacation. Hell, I'm a bar manager, I shouldn't give two shits and a can of ravioli about my job in the first place. Especially while I'm in a place like Pigeon Forge, Tennessee and the land of DollyWood. Oh, and you readers who look at me and judge me for not caring about my job while you're out of work... well, too bad... there are jobs out there. Climb down from your pedestals and find something beneath you if need be. Not everyone makes a huge salary but jobs are out there (my political rant for the day).

I might not be the highest-titled manager with my employer, but I am the one with the most insight and the highest intelligence. Sure, I don't wear a tie, and I never will again, but what I have to offer is immeasurable compared to what less-experienced, less intelligent and less self-important morons have to offer. I have always had a disdain for incompetence and it hasn't been until recently that I've repeatedly been bombarded with not only incompetence from management but lack of respect for my abilities.

Again, I'll never claim to know everything. I'm not my ex-wife or a member of the GOP. But, I'm no dummy. either. And, I'm no pushover who will accept a word from management as being concrete without actions to back up what management says. I seem to have developed a big mouth that has both made me a black sheep with management and a vocal proponent of rights amongst my co-workers.

I'm no different from anyone else with the exception of a few jail stays, arrests, mental ward visits and 'supposed' suicide attemps. As a result of age and experience, I refuse to accept anyone attempting to walk over me and deny my authority in a position that I've clearly earned and worked hard to attain.

Can you relate?

So, as I sit here late at night, straining to hear the keystrokes as my sister and beloved wife call to the wildlife here in Tennessee as they sleep in blissful peace, I will ponder how I will face my future Seven days from now my future will either be changed positively or negatively. It all depends on the man in the monkey suit sitting behind the desk and how he reacts to a man who's ego and intelligence exceeds his own.

Yee haw. Bring on the banjos. This is 'Deliverance' at it's core. Survival of the fittest.