#workers unite

And we've always had technical issues, some minor, some major, the later usually affecting the whole office, since we're all working on the same server.

Lately the issues have been so bad that two colleagues from home office had to come in for one day (for reasons beyond me).

I myself had some issues since forever, main one being that the programS(!) I have to use just freezing. Restarting both takes a lot of time and 9 times out of 10 I have to do it at least twice for it to work again. Restarting the entire PC is also an option but it takes a relatively long time too.

Been in contact with my work-IT-buddy who's in contact with the respective company, some issues were solved, most got lost in the nether as far as we know.

Just yesterday I had to listen to my team leader telling me that she straight up doesn't believe me. She thinks I'm slacking off.

I immediately contacted my IT guy again and said we need to do something about that, it's starting to threaten my existence.

I had the suspicion before that it might have to do with a work step that I simplified and therefore am now at least twice as fast as my colleagues. So far IT guy said that's not possible.

Essentially I save time by just copy-pasting something my colleagues type in every time. That's it. But I noticed a pattern and turns out I am not allowed to work as fast as I can because the software is too slow.

Fair enough.

Also IT-guy gave me another tip about how to - if not solve the crashes, at least safe time restarting the whole shebang.

So far, so good. I thought I heard the last of that for now.

Today I mentioned all of that to my other colleague. The one who has the desk opposite of mine. The one I thought I was on best terms with out of them all. Oh silly autism brain, don't you ever learn.

So turns out she doesn't believe me either. At least she claims not to care, she's counting the hours to her retirement anyway and says, if I wanna slack off all day, she doesn't give a shit.

But imagine WHY she thought I was faking the crashes!!!

Because she can still hear me typing while the program in question allegedly froze.

I'M TRYING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM!

I'M WRITING THE TICKET TO THE HELPDESK!

ANd even IF I was dicking around with whatever while I wait for the shit to unfreeze (slim chance but not zero) WHERE'S THE HARM IN THAT?!

Long story short, this is why we never bust our asses for work.

We bust our asses for hobbies and loved ones.

For work you're a replaceable asset.

They pay you the bare minimum and treat you not even that.

So we do the bare minimum.

Thanks for reading, have a cookie. ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎っ🍪

Addition I almost forgot to add:

So I technically had two major breakthroughs, right? Finding out that my efficiency did in fact cause the crashes even tho I've been told otherwise AND finding a way to at least speeding up the process of restarting the fucking things?

They'll 100 % still think I was slacking off and am not anymore since they were onto me and I got scared.

The streets of Chicago are alive.

Today, tens of thousands of working men and women march—not for spectacle, not for some empty pageantry, but for something far more urgent, something that has been long denied: the right to our time, to our own lives, to a future that does not grind us into dust before we can enjoy it.

We have labored from dawn to dusk, from youth to old age, for scraps from the tables of men who grow bloated on our exhaustion. The factory bells ring, and we move like cattle. The machinery swallows us whole. The wealthy speak of hard work and thrift while we rot in tenements and struggle to feed our children. And yet, when we rise and say, “Enough,” they call us radicals.

They say eight hours of work is too little.

They say our demand is unreasonable.

They say industry will collapse if the workers dare to rest.

But we say: We are the ones who built these factories. We are the ones who turn the gears of this city. We are the ones who produce the wealth they hoard. And we will no longer work ourselves into the grave for them.

We do not ask for permission.

We do not beg for mercy.

We do not hope for their generosity.

The eight-hour day is ours for the taking.

So be it. If order means our suffering, let it fall.

The press calls this a riot. The industrialists call it anarchy. The police call it a threat to public order.

Burn after reading,