Simian Farmer: 3.5% irate

So I get home last night and begin to putter around in my usual fashion. The boy is still down for his afternoon nap, my wife is tucked into the sofa, similarly sleeping (this gestating foetus stuff knocks her right out) and the dogs are outside. The typical daily maelstrom seems to have wended its way through our abode. I jostle the requisite debris out of the way and get a head start on supper.

Dinner, dishes, bath with boy, bed for boy... sit and chill for a moment with my beautiful wife. I say, "Oh yeah, Honey, almost forgot to tell ya, got my raise today."

"You're just telling me now!? And?"

"It's kinda what I expected."

"So how disappointed are you?"

"Well, underwhelmed to say the least..."

*********

Manila_folder The Boss saunters into my office with a manila folder tucked conspicuously under one elbow.

"Hi Simon." There is a hint of joviality in his voice. I turn around in my chair, abandoning the spreadsheet festooned with numbers forecasting our heavy equipment needs for this fiscal year. I am not perturbed by the distraction. Turning, I see the joviality in his voice matched by the smile on his lips; it does not reach his eyes.

There is something weighing down the revel and preventing it from reaching his eyes. This disturbs me. I immediately glance again at the manila folder, suspicious.

The Boss sits across from me and places the folder between us. It remains closed but is the centre of attention. I endeavour not to dwell on it. It is a gravity well, drawing my eyes inexorably towards it and, apparently, preventing fun from escaping. The Boss's eyes tell me so.

The Boss opens the folder and extracts a single sheet of paper. Company Letterhead. Not the Bond, Plain Bond, I am more accustomed to. This is heavier (gravity well generating) and smoother to the touch. I suspect a weightier subject matter is imminent. Portentous even.

"So Simon," The Boss starts again. "I'm pleased today to be able to present you with this letter." He deftly rotates it 180 degrees on the desk in front of me; I see a squiggle masquerading as a signature at the bottom. Letterhead and Signature: this is an Important Piece of Paper. Portentous indeed.

"Your raise here will be retroactive to the beginning of the month!" He's focusing on the positive first. I've still only taken note of the Letterhead and the Signature.

"Now as you know," continuing in a more serious mien, "our fiscal performance this past year wasn't what we wanted it to be." No shit. "And we've just come out of a period of financial restructuring that will allow us more flexibility in the future." Yeah, but what does that mean right now? "The Board wasn't even going to approve any raises for this year, but the CEO went to bat for us all and got a discretionary slush fund to assign cost-of-living raises as we saw fit." He pauses here as he glances meaningfully at me, the sort of glance that's important enough to do over top the rims of his glasses: "Some people still didn't get any raises at all."

And you saw fit to give me a 'cost of living' raise. Thanks awfully. I'm feeling far less than impressed at this point; but it's not The Boss's fault. He's only been with The Company for the past six months. Still, I'm reminded of a review two years ago when, after spending 21 months in Ft. McMurray helping manage a 60 million dollar project, my performance was placed on par with that of a 'glorified accountant' and so we certainly can't justify a more substantial raise this year for you Simon. I've been harbouring a modicum of resentment since then. That's my problem though. That was a different The Boss, not this The Boss. But I can still direct my ire at him. Internally. It doesn't make me feel any better, but sometimes it's just nice to have a target. Can a single entity experience solidarity?

The Boss then goes on to describe how, given the recent and continued growth of our division of The Company, of which I am an integral part, he'd like to see me take on more of a management role as we develop the necessary infrastructure underneath.

Well that sounds promising.

Is this new management role going to allow me to afford to bring a second baby into this world, and save for the university education of the first, and finish my basement, and get that larger bed so my wife doesn't lob me out of our double at night with her distended abdomen seven months from now, and refinish the back landing so we can get rid of two years and two puppies' worth of urine stains nestled inextricably into the carpet (who carpets an entryway, honestly!), and justify spending over 50 hours a week at work when my cheque says 40, and, and, and, and...

There's always another 'and'.

And... so what are you going to do about it, Simon??