Indoors is underrated

With summer nearly here, you may be contemplating going camping this weekend. If your plans include a stay at a campground, we urge you to reconsider. Why, you ask? Well, the situation is far too horrifying for photographs. The pictures would likely have been banned from this platform as inappropriate. Instead, we submit to you, an artist's rendering. This is why you should not go camping, this weekend or any time in the near future.

 BAM!

We'll give you a second for your screams to die down

That's right. The Hutt, having left the torture den that is Tartarus, has started a new career as an official at a camp ground. 

It's like a horror movie. Enough to put you off camping for the rest of your life. Is a couple of nights sleeping in a tent really worth that horror?

Every animal loves plastic, you know

We used to collect empty bottles and cans at Tartarus to return them for the deposit (Yes, Tartarus is in one of those states). With the collected money we might buy a bag of candy or box of donuts for the staff on a special occasion. That all ended when the Hutt declared that the empty bottles (mostly empty water bottles) were attracting mice. That's right, apparently a mouse's favorite food is a plastic water bottle. 

While this was stupid and annoying, we'd mostly moved on and forgotten about it. Then Opie suggested this week that we collect bottles and cans to promote a fundraiser. Why is it cans for staff attract vermin but cans for a "good cause" are a delight?

The Hutt has left the building!

Some part of us thought it would never happen, that the whole thing was a cruel prank. But it's true. They Hutt is gone and we couldn't be more thrilled.

 Join us in a celebratory song.

 

What a great boss

Imagine you are a boss. You are greeting your employees by name (probably because you got scolded for blatantly favoring certain ones). You don't immediately see one person. Do you:
a) go find said person and greet them to their face

or

b) yell "Good Morning employee X" across the building and hope said employee hears you

?

GOOD MORNING!!!!

We're dropping like flies

Today's post starts with news that we're very thrilled about, though we've had to keep it under our hats for some time now. The Hutt is leaving.
.
.
.
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Did you get that?
The Hutt is leaving!

We're likely to talk about that a great deal more before the Hutt's actual last day. The reason we bring it up now is that it's part of an interesting trend. 

We're running through employees like water. 

Tartarus has a pretty small staff and in the last ten years we've had more than twice as many people quit than are actually employed there (so if the staff of Tartarus were 20, we'd have had more than 40 quit). And something like 80% of those were within the 6 years that the Hutt has been in charge. In two years, the Hutt has had 4 personal assistants. None of those people has lasted more than 4 months. One lasted a week. We had two people leave Tartarus in two days. 2 days! Yet our board thinks everything is fine. We think they have a screw loose.

Who knew a drawer could cause so much stress

There is a drawer in Tartarus that our Board suddenly (like overnight suddenly) decided needs to be locked every night. The problem? We don't all have keys to this drawer.

Apparently we can't be trusted?

The Hutt and Shoes each have a key on their person at all times. Pterry is given access to a key but must turn it in when she leaves each day. Mr. Ed was informed where a copy of the key is kept but must not carry it around. He must only get it out when the drawer needs locking. That's it. No other keys exist.

Yesterday, the closing staff scheduled was Mr. Ed, Plague, and Speck. The problem? Mr. Ed was out sick. Since the Hutt didn't want to come back in at closing, someone else needed to be made responsible for the key. 

Now, Speck has worked for Tartarus for 5 years. Plague has not even completed a year as a full time employee and hasn't even been trusted with the alarm code yet. Additionally, simply by virtue of job title, Speck was officially "in charge". It seems obvious who should have been trusted with the key. Speck, yes? Of course not. Plague was entrusted with the key. Speck was not even allowed to knew where the key is kept. We don't think Speck could be any more insulted.

Don't bother talking to people

Apparently the Hutt feels even less compulsion to keep us informed than it used to. We now find things out about Tartarus from the newspaper. Wait until you hear this one.

The Hutt is nasty? Shocking

Let's set the scene. Spoof, Speck, and Plague are working the main desk. An elderly patron approaches carrying a plastic bag.

"Here you are, dear," says the lady. "Here's a portable DVD player like you want. I hope I got the right kind."

"Umm...," says Speck. "I don't know anything about any DVD players."

The patron looks strangely at Speck. "It was in the paper a couple of weeks ago. It said you all wanted DVD players."

Speck looks at Spoof. "Do you know anything about this?"

"Nope."

Plague smirks a little and says, "Send her up to the Hutt."

"The Hutt is out of the building," says Speck.

"It was in the office like 15 minutes ago," says Plague.

"Yes, and then it left for a meeting."

"So call Shoes," says Plague.

"Shoes left too. They were going to the meeting together."

Eventually, we decided to take the player up to the Hutt's office with a note. But not before the patron looked at the three of us as if we barely had a braincell between us.

And really, could you blame her?

 We managed to find the newspaper article in question after this encounter and have some idea of what's going on now. But isn't it sad when the public knows more than the employees?

The saga completed (please, please, please)

For over a week now we've been relating to you a saga of leaking roof and mold. We couldn't possibly have more, right?

Wrong friends. Very wrong.

We've saved the best for (hopefully) last. This one's about the mold.

When the mold was first discovered we were disgusted. We're talking a patch of wall probably 2 feet wide and 3 feet high absolutely covered in black mold. 

"Man," said Spoof, "that's probably been growing for months. And we've been breathing that in."

Shoes scoffed at that idea. "I don't think so. The Hutt says it's developed from this new leak. We haven't had mold more than a day or two."

"Really," said Spoof. "You believe that."
 
"Of course," said Shoes. "If the Hutt said it it must be true."

Now, we gave them the benefit of the doubt and looked it up. Everything we've read says that black mold takes 2 MONTHS to even BEGIN growing, and that's in warm conditions. It is physically impossible for any black mold, much less the amount we had, to grow in just 2 days. So there, Shoes and the Hutt. Stick that in you pipe and smoke it.

Most magical apparel

What is the most magical clothing? No, not a witch's hat. Not a cape. Apparently the answer is jeans.

Yup, regular old blue jeans

You might be asking yourself where we would come up with such a ridiculous idea. The simple answer: from the Hutt.

Tartarus was closed this weekend because of the leak. The crew who came in to fix it found black mold. To treat the black mold, they had to spray on a fungicide that can be highly poisonous. As a result, Tartarus had to remain closed on Monday. You'd think that would mean staff had to stay home. Not so, friends. Not so. Staff was required to work in the closed building all day. It might have been okay if we were restricted to non-poison floors but the only area off limits was the main desk, where the mold had been found. 

"You can wear jeans, though," said the Hutt. As if that would make up for working in poison.

Of health hazards and stupidity

This is a long and infuriating one, folks. Prepare yourselves.

Last year, we had a really bad leak at Tartarus. Water poured through a light fixture. The wall paint bulged in water filled bubble. The ceiling and part of one wall cracked. This was all happening in our main desk area and left us somewhat frightened. When the leak stopped, the Hutt promised that our board of directors was looking into repair options. And that was the last we heard of it for more than six months.

Finally, in the late fall, our board finally made the promised repair, installing metal roofing where the leak had come through. Now, that was the only repair. Nothing was done to fix the damaged interior. We were told that they were waiting on insurance evaluations.

Yeah, we totally believe that

Now, in addition to the massive leak, we've always had some mild leaking in the winter. Water comes in under some baseboards, usually in the exact same spot. When that leak started up this year, some of our coworkers started freaking out. "Oh, it's starting again. Let's get out the buckets," they cried. 

"Wait," we said. "They fixed the roof. This is probably the same old snow build-up. Don't panic just yet." Of course no one listened to us.

Now, because of the way the roof was repaired and because our board doesn't seem to believe in proper snow removal, snow and ice have been building up on our roof all winter. As a result, a new leak appeared just this week. Apparently, it's a pretty bad one and we're told that the equipment in that room is "incredibly valuable." Suddenly, the leak is a big issue that must be dealt with immediately. The Hutt called an industrial cleaning company to deal with the moisture. In the process of cleaning, they were asked to look at our old damage. 
(It's important to note that all of this was going on while Tartarus was open for business and patrons were all over the place).
This inspection revealed that the wall under the cracked ceiling, which is normally covered by a shelf, is covered in black mold. The staff was asked to remove all of the computers, desk drawers, and assorted equipment from the effected area. All of these things are necessary to keep Tartarus running, yet the Hutt saw no need to close for the rest of the day. 

The cleaning guys returned today to complete their evaluation. This involved taking down counters, cutting into the ceiling and wall, and running industrial dehumidifiers. All in an area full of plaster dust and apparently toxic mold. Horrible, right? It gets worse.

THE HUTT KEPT TARTARUS OPEN! 

That's right. In all the dust, noise, and mold spores, staff was expected to continue on, business as usual. Equipment matters to the Hutt. Staff, clearly, does not.

Things are supposed to work?

The elevator at Tartarus is broken. In fact, it has been broken for months. Spider hero has literally been telling the Hutt for months that there is something wrong with the elevator fuses and they need to be fixed sooner rather than later. The Hutt insisted that there was nothing wrong with it and we were ignoring the elevator's tendency to travel to the wrong floor or go up and down a couple of times without the door ever opening.

The problem can no longer be ignored. Today the doors stopped opening at all. The elevator just travels randomly up and down the shaft. Concerned, we asked the Hutt, "nobody's stuck in there are they?"

The Hutt just about took off our heads. "Don't you think if someone was in there you'd hear them pounding," it snapped. "What's wrong with you?"

And then it stomped away, muttering how it doesn't have time to deal with all these little problems and the staff needs to start dealing with such minor issues without it's guidance.

Are we crazy or is dealing with stuff like broken elevators kind of in the job description for the boss?

That new math

Apparently the Hutt does addition differently than we do. 

We've had another issue regarding money. The whole story is long and confusing - too long and confusing to get into here. The important part is the math. 

Some months ago we were given a sum of money to fund a program series. After some initial purchases we were told by the Hutt that we had $38 dollars left for incidentals. In the last few months we've spent about $9.50 of that money. Today we requested more money. 

The Hutt told us the fund was gone. 

"How is that possible," we asked. "We've only spent around $10 dollars. We should have plenty left and there is still stuff that we need." 

"No," said the Hutt. "That money is long gone." 

And no matter what questions we asked, trying to figure out what happened to the other $28 the Hutt would only say "That money is long gone."

What does that mean for our program? Honestly, we don't know. Some money was found for a temporary fix but that can't last. And we are mystified how that remaining fund, which was supposed to be carefully tracked to each purchase was accounted for, could be drained without our knowledge.

It just doesn't add up

Who cares about you

If you live anywhere near the Northeast, if you've been paying any attention to any sort of news media, you know about the snow storm that went through. They started tossing around the word blizzard over the weekend. 

With predictions of more than a foot of snow in under 24 hours we Tartarus employees were eagerly anticipating at least one day off from work. Most businesses in our town decided no later than Monday morning that they would not open at all Tuesday or Wednesday. 

Imagine our shock then when we opened an email from the Hutt first thing Monday morning that read "FYI, I will not be making any decisions about being open or closed in the morning until tomorrow. If we decided to close, Shoes or I will call you first thing." Now, the Hutt posted about the storm on Facebook all weekend, completely freaked out about what was coming. Why, then, not make the call to close? Instead, we all had to wake up early and wait for a phone call.

The Hutt even went so far as to cancel all of it's appointments for Tuesday and Wednesday because "it won't be safe for people to come to Tartarus." So what is staff, then? Automatons? Soulless shades? 

The whole thing just leaves us scratching our heads.

You can't be okay

We readily admit that many things confuse us. What we find most mystifying, though, is the Hutt. Consider this.

At the beginning of our staff meeting today Speck sat down at the table opposite of the Hutt. "Hi Speck," the Hutt said in an incredibly smarmy tone. "How are you?"

Speck has been sick with a cold for several days and is only beginning to feel better. "I'm alright," said Speck.

The Hutt said nothing to this, only stared at Speck with a suspicious glare.

What exactly was Speck meant to say? Lie and claim to be fantastic? Lie in the other direction and claim to be half dead? Apparently, even when you tell the truth at Tartarus, you lose.
 

What a Grinch

Every year, on December 1, Tartarus gets decorated for the holiday season. This is done after hours by a team of volunteers. And Spoof. Certain areas do not get decorated unless Spoof does it.

It's a lot of work, but totally worth the effort.

Well, this year Spoof was busy on December 1 and couldn't make it to the decorating session. Sure enough, Spoof's areas did not get handled by anyone else. This was not unexpected. What was unexpected was the snarl from the Hutt. "I want those areas taken care of by noon today," said the Hutt.

"Hold on," said Spoof. "I'm busy this morning. I have a program I have to run."

"Oh," snipped the Hutt. "Well fine. You can have until noon tomorrow. Not a second longer. Tomorrow at noon Spider Hero is putting away the decorations. Anything undecorated will have to stay that way."

And your Christmas will self-destruct in a fiery inferno

We'd like to set up some special decorations just for the Hutt.

Mr. Not-so-clean

The Hutt admonished the staff today to clean out the refrigerator. Every shelf was full and most of the food in there was old. 

"Take out or label anything that belongs to you," said Shoes. "After lunches I'm going to throw away anything without a label."

Now, this has happened at Tartarus before. Usually it results in a nearly empty fridge. This is what the refrigerator looked like shortly before closing today.

This is clean?

And why is there so much year-old soda in there?

 A few things are gone. Like cheesey potatoes. But this was still in there.

See all that sediment? Disgusting.

 

Let's talk about Spoof

Whoopity-doo!  It's time for evaluations at Tartarus. In a normal workplace your annual evaluation is a chance for your boss to acknowledge the things that you do well and gently remind you of some things that you could do better. Not at Tartarus.

At Tartarus you never know what will happen when you get evaluated. The Hutt may act as if you are the best employee ever. Or you may be treated like the lowest scum on the planet. Or you might be Spoof.

Today was Spoof's evaluation. The Hutt spent the entire time talking about other people, some of whom don't even work at Tartarus any more.  When Spoof said, "Excuse me. This is my evaluation. Please talk about me" the Hutt kind of squirmed.

"Uh, yeah," said the Hutt. Then it proceeded to talk about other people again. When the Hutt finally did talk about Spoof, the only criticism it gave was "When you're assigned to work the desk, you spend too much time actually at the desk."

What?!

We can only conclude that the Hutt is actually afraid of Spoof. We cannot guarantee that we will not use this knowledge for nefarious purposes.

Let the games begin

Really? Really?!

At Tartarus, we post signs in the building warning patrons about upcoming holidays and such when we will be closed. On the surface this is a very sensible plan. If only it were being done in a sensible way. 

Three of these signs got posted this week: two on Monday and one today. One of Monday's signs warned about a staff education day November 17th. A month in advance seemed a little premature but not particularly worth mentioning. 

Then the Hutt had Neppy post another one. The second sign told people we would be closed for Thanksgiving. Now, by our count that sign is posted SIX weeks in advance. More than a little ridiculous.

This seemed sensible to you Hutt?

The cherry on top is today's closing sign, reminding people that we close for Veteran's Day. It doesn't take a very big brain to realize that Veteran's Day actually happens before either of the other two. So why wait to hang that sign?

The world according to the Hutt - the 9th and final part

Yes, you read that right. We have at last come to the end of the insanity that occurred a couple of weeks ago. And this one is a doozy. Seriously, we saved the most insane part of the whole ordeal for last.

The whole thing started with a bowl. A bowl that belonged to Spoof. Spoof brought the bowl to Tartarus last fall for something and has kept it in our staff room ever since. It made a convenient place to keep things like business cards and the like. Not only did everyone see Spoof with the bowl last fall, it has had a little sign with Spoof's name on it since then. There was no mistaking this bowl as Spoof's. The day of the blow up, someone had taken Spoof's bowl, pulled off the sign, dumped the things out of it, and was using it for something else. All without asking. Spoof is a reasonable person. If our coworker had asked permission, Spoof would gladly have loaned the bowl. But as no permission was asked, Spoof took the bowl back and told everyone "If someone would like to use my bowl, please ask me."

This all seemed reasonable to us. 

A few minutes passed and then the Hutt came stomping down the stairs from it's office and snatched the bowl off the counter. "That's my bowl," said Spoof.

"I'm hearing different stories from someone else," snarled the Hutt, "so now no one gets it."

"But it is mine," said Spoof. "It had my name on it. I brought it from home."

"Well, where was it," said the Hutt. 

"In the staff room," said Spoof. "I keep my business cards in it."

"Oh," said the Hutt. "Well, as soon as you bring something to Tartarus it belongs to the whole place. Anyone can use it."

What?!!!

"Wait wait wait," said Spoof. "You're telling me that if I buy something, it has my name on it, and it only means something to me, by bringing it here I lose ownership? A relative gave me a photo. It is in the staff room, in a frame I purchased. It has special meaning to me. You are saying anyone can move that photo, even throw it out, if they feel like it."

"Yes," insisted the Hutt. "Everything in Tartarus belongs to Tartarus and anyone can use it."

"That's ridiculous," said Spoof. "That's not how things work at all."

"You don't know what you are talking about," said the Hutt.

And everything exploded from there.

Hutt rule #9 - If it is in Tartarus, it belongs to Tartarus.

The world according to the Hutt - part 8

During the massive argument Spoof laid out a lot of complaints. "You treat Speck and I differently than you treat your favorites," said Spoof.

"Untrue," proclaimed the Hutt. "Name one time I treated anyone differently."

"How about the time you took away our scissors. But Opie was still allowed to cut upstairs. At the main desk even. And when you gave our scissors back you told us we had to clean up everything the second we were done cutting. Do you remember that."

"Yes," said the Hutt. "I was in a bad mood that summer."

"Which is crazy," said Spoof. "You made a stupid rule because you were pissed. But what I'd like to point out is how many times the clones have left messes this summer. The space where they work is an absolute sty all of the time. They leave cut up paper, scissors, pens, and trash all over. And you never say anything."

"Oh, well, they're just summer staff," said the Hutt.

"That's no excuse. They're adults. They know how to keep a space tidy. And it's not their first summer here. They know how their space should look. Why don't you ever say anything to them?"

"They're just summer staff," repeated the Hutt.

It takes a great deal of restraint on our parts not to attack the Hutt. A great deal.

Hutt rule #8 - Messes left by summer staff are not a problem. Messes left by Spoof and Speck are punishable by death.