Feelin' not groovy.

Jag is in a mood most foul today, and I am, too. I wonder if we picked up something in the internet?

Not likely, since I know the origins of my mood. It can be pinpointed exactly. I. Hate. Being. A. Manager.

PlaceIWork sometimes has all the characteristics of a kindergarten playground at recess. I've got folks on my team that are solid professionals, even some that are just out of college and are stepping up to do the job and focus on the work at hand. However, some of them are middle-aged, educated professionals and I swear to whatever deity you choose they need a solid spanking and a timeout. They do the work, but choose to spend an inordinate amount of their time focusing on petty (to me, I know) crap like where their cubicle is located. Whether they sit near a window or not. Whether the FREE SODA is BUBBLY ENOUGH. And who is to blame for these unbearable burdens? Me. Not the company. Me. Like my focus is not supposed to be on, oh, say, getting the work done and the product delivered, but on whether they are feeling sufficiently spoiled and catered to on a daily basis. And if I don't pay enough attention to these details, then I'm deemed a poor manager. Funny, I don't expect my boss to give a rat's ass about whether I am happy in anything except my job.

I did not take these grown-ass people to raise. Grrrr. Welfare? Lookin' better and better...