#but this one. for one is a front desk/secretary position instead of full HR

[chipjrwibignaturals]

everyone PLEASEEEEEE pray for me that my mom’s work is Not feeling like an ass and actually Allows me to have a job at their place this time 🙏

[dailyanarchistposts]

Author: Abbey Volcano Topics: anti-work, health care, work

This is a story about anger, “non-profits,” and pissing blood. I was in my fifth year working at an independent health food store run by religious fanatics in a suburb outside of the city and I needed more money. I started off part-time at a cultural center, working the events. I would mainly be there at night, during performances and exhibits—taking people’s tickets, helping the artists set up, serving hors d’oeuvres, cleaning the toilets, etc. I was paid $12/hr to do this work and it was the most I had ever made in my life and it was the only job that wasn’t in the service industry, so I was pretty excited. Pretty soon after I started they asked me if I could take over the secretarial position. This was a full-time desk job. I really needed the money, especially because the health food store was closing down since a Whole Foods had moved into town. I took the job since I couldn’t have really done much better as far as pay went.

I know some people think that non-profits are non-capitalist or are somehow better for society and people who work there and so on. People who work in management positions at non-profits tend to be kind of smug because of this. The place I worked didn’t really operate much differently from any other job, so if there’s a non-profit difference, I didn’t see it. This job had been salaried before I took it but they switched it to hourly and they had me work 10-5p instead of 9-5p so they could opt me out of health insurance, sick days, vacation leave, or bennies of any variety. At first I was happy about being able to start working later in the day (I’m a nocturnal insomniac) and I had never had insurance through a job before, so didn’t think much of it. But I realized pretty quickly that this was bullshit. Everyone else in the office was on salary. Sometimes I felt bad for them because if they worked longer hours, they still received the same pay, but I was mainly upset that I was the only unsalaried person. Others clocked in: the janitor, the tech people, part-time people, but I was the only one in the office who had to clock in.

Pretty much everyone mostly just fucked around on the job. Now, I’ve done my share of fucking around on the job. I’m all for fucking around on the job. It beats actually working. But in this job, other people would get mad at me if I needed to do something that meant they had to do some work instead of fucking around on the job. My job made me the first person anyone calling or coming into the cultural center made contact with. If I wasn’t there, someone else had to take calls or questions, or give tours, or the worst: make their own copies and fax their own memos. The other people in the office would be pretty pissed if I wasn’t there on time, or if I was in the bathroom, or late, whatever. They weren’t mean to me, but it disrupted their regular schedule of fucking around in the back and I could tell it annoyed them.

So there was me in the front office and four people in the back: grant writer, administrative person, accounts manager, and the executive director. Everyone else had a lot of flexibility, like you would expect at a salaried job at a cultural center to have. When they had dentist appointments, doctor appointments, their children were sick, they were sick, or anything that required them to be out of the office, they were allowed to go without penalty. Now I didn’t have health insurance like the rest of them, so I didn’t need to worry about getting time off to go to the doctor or dentist. Lucky me! I was pretty bitter about these dynamics, especially since we were all supposed to get along and be friends and what not. I found myself pretty focused on the fact that they had access to all these things and I didn’t. I’d see them laughing and joking around and I’d just think to myself how much easier it is to put a smile on at work when you at least get bennies. (Of course, work sucks, full stop. Fuck work.) So I hated my job, I hated almost all my co-workers because they were smug and on power trips. The executive director—that’s another story all its own; she is a character. A character you love to hate. She’s a rich liberal who thinks she’s a radical. Gross.

Here’s a brief story to demonstrate her fake radicalness, her loyal opposition. The executive director seemed to fetishize me as a radical. She knew my politics since I had been cooking with Food Not Bombs for a couple years and we used the center’s kitchen. So we had chatted a bunch and she considered herself a fellow radical. I’m not sure why she thought this of herself, but she did. When I first started the secretarial position, it was not explained to me that I was to be both a secretary and a personal assistant to this woman. One of the first things she had me do was look over a schematic she came up with that demonstrated how the office was organized in a non-hierarchical manner. She asked me to look it over and offer her suggestions—I think she wanted to pass these out to the office workers to boost morale, but I’m not really sure. The only suggestion I could offer is that it was completely untrue. She was interested in why I thought this, so I took the time to explain to her that the office is not organized in a non-hierarchical manner, as she had clear authority over tasks and the division of labor, she clearly made about $50k more than the other salaried employees, and as looking at it from my own standpoint, I didn’t even have insurance, sick-leave, vacation days, nor salary. It wasn’t just pay that divided us, but the division of labor was clearly and rigidly set by the board and the executive director who also established the various rules and regulations (formal and informal) which we were all to follow. It was really gross to have my boss try to convince me that we were working in a cooperative, non-hierarchical office situation. I continued to oppose everything she offered to support her argument, but she eventually dropped it and just laughed it off. I never saw that schematic again.

So one day I felt like I had a urinary tract infection (UTI) coming on. For those of you unfamiliar with this particular malady— congratulations because they are the worst. It causes you to have to pee constantly, but when you try to urinate it doesn’t really work, and it feels like razor blades are coming out of your urethra instead of urine. It’s awful. Vaginas are more susceptible to them and if you’ve had one, you’ll likely have another since it causes scar tissue, which causes more UTIs, which causes more scar tissue, etc. There are some over-the-counter drugs to ease the pain, but you need to take an antibiotic to clear up the infection so you can pee normally again. When you have a UTI, you can’t really leave your house. It’s awful. A 5-minute ride to work can be too much to handle. When I say you have to pee constantly, I mean it. Sometimes you just sit on the toilet waiting to pee. Sometimes you wear a pad so you can let out little bits of pee. Perhaps I’m getting a little TMI. But the point is, holding in your pee, even if it’s a miniscule amount, is pain that no one can bear.

So I had a UTI coming on and I knew it. I did whatever I could to try and address it with natural things so I didn’t have to go to the walk-in clinic. I drank incredibly expensive gallons of 100% unsweetened cranberry juice, I drank more water than I thought possible, and I also took incredibly expensive cranberry extract pills. That will usually steer me clear and take care of things, but not this particular time. I had symptoms for over a week. I was incredibly uncomfortable and in a lot of pain, but I knew that I didn’t have money to pay for the walk-in, to pay for the meds, and especially to take time off from work and lose those hours.

One morning, about eight days into this ordeal, I woke up to go to work and realized I was now pissing blood. UTIs that get bad enough to piss blood are rare. They’re rare because most people wouldn’t put up with the amount of pain and length of time it takes to have an untreated UTI develop into one which causes pissing blood. Pissing blood is kind of the last straw. So I was pissing blood and knew I had to get to the walk-in as soon as possible. I reluctantly called into work, explained the situation, and told them I’d get there as soon as possible, but that I needed to go to the walk-in first. This was a pretty difficult task since I also didn’t have a car at the time since mine had been stolen from that same job (wee! And also my wallet was stolen off my desk at one point). So I borrowed a car, went to the walk-in, they confirmed I had a UTI and scolded me on waiting so long to treat it, gave me a prescription, and sent me on my way. I went to the pharmacy, got my pills, and drove to work so I could at least make some money that day.

UTIs are treatable and one of the most common infections—all you really need is to take an anti-biotic for a few days and it’s over. My co-workers were shocked that I was pissing blood, they were very concerned and asked why I waited so long to take care of things. The women, especially, winced when I told them the pain I was in. They even told me to go home for the day. At this point, I had pretty much lost any ability to remain calm. I explained to them that I couldn’t afford to take time off of work, I couldn’t afford the walk-in clinic, and I couldn’t afford the prescription, and that was “why” I waited so long. I stayed the rest of the day, of course. I didn’t speak to anyone and my eyes were daggers.

The fact that I had to be pissing blood in order to justify taking off a few hours from work is bullshit. When smug well-off women at “non-profits” are shocked and ask you why you waited so long to go to the doctor when you have a UTI, you pretty much want to kill them, and anyone else, hell, everyone else. They couldn’t understand what it meant not having insurance, not having sick-leave, and not having the ability to even get to a doctor without borrowing a car. They were so used to their salary, their benefits, their vacation time, that they seemed unable to understand the problems I was having and why I didn’t do things the way they would have. I didn’t mince my words, so they started to get it a little. Then they just walked around in a kind of guilty manner the rest of the day. These are the same people who could’ve made my job full-time, offered me benefits, etc. They made the choice to change the job when I took it. I think they knew I’d take it since I was desperate and they weren’t worried about filling the position, so why not screw me over? Worst is, 35 hours in my state is considered full-time and I believe I was entitled to sick leave. Trimming my position to 35 hours/week made them feel better about taking away any benefits, but it wasn’t legal. They felt guilty when they found out how their decision to change my job had affected me, but not so guilty as to pay me more or provide me with health insurance. Fuck liberals, their useless guilt, and their loyal opposition. Furthermore, like I said, fuck work.

[occasionalfics]

touch every star (1)

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ao3 | next

Pairing: Thor X Cinderella!Reader AU

A/N: So for whatever reason, I kind of finished this fic and then never ever shared it? Apparently I started writing this in November and never did anything with it, which is a shame because I actually really like it? So now I’m just going through, rereading to edit, and I’m giving y’all a treat since I can’t really remember the last time I actually posted a fic. Hope everyone likes it!

And seeing as how this is the first fic I’ve posted in a LONG time, I’m still not keeping up a taglist. I believe there’s a way for you to get notified when I post, should you want to do that.

Warnings: Lots of angst, a really, really shitty boss, but overall this is probably the most pure fic I’ve ever written?

Words: 2,960

//

She couldn’t believe she’d done it. After a full day of itemized lists of tasks way out of her paygrade, she’d finally finished them all. The blisters on her heels from her uncomfortable but required shoes would serve as a reminder that, for once, she’d managed to meet her boss’s ridiculous standards to a T.

Mr. Sitwell, the head of Accounting, was a ruthless, selfish man that everyone had warned Y/N about before she’d taken the job, but it paid more than the entry level HR job she’d taken when she’d first started. Four months later and, for the first time, she’d finally finished a list Sitwell had given her during work hours.

Only, when she looked at the clock on her desk, she realized that it definitely was not work hours. Well past 8pm. The office was dark and deserted except for her and the rustling of paperwork on her desk - her secretarial desk - was the only noise now that she stood still.

“Fuck,” she muttered, shutting her eyes. “God- Fuck that guy.”

When she opened her eyes, she looked up at Sitwell’s office. The door was closed, the lights shut off, even his computer was off for the night. Y/N was the last one in the office and she hadn’t even noticed. Three hours had gone by since she’d spoken to a human. Three hours of time she was sure Sitwell was going to dock her for.

She’d started working at Stark Industries because she’d heard Mr. Stark offered great benefits to his employees, and while she was technically one of them, Jasper Sitwell was directly above her. He was the worst kind of middleman, and to add insult to injury, he was the worst kind of boss.

His words echoed in her head as she thought about going higher, letting someone from her old department about his mistreatment.

I might not be Stark rich, but I have money. I have power. I have more here than you’ll ever have. I’d watch who you speak to if I were you.

Maybe she didn’t have an amazing job or a high position, but she had money she needed to support herself. She couldn’t do anything, at that moment, to risk the job and lose her income.

She was not going to move back home.

And rent was so god damn expensive.

Pursing her lips, she sighed to herself before gathering the papers on her desk into one pile. None of it was going home with her, now that she’d finished it all. She’d divy it up in the morning and give it to the right people when she could think straight again.

She pulled the strap of her purse up onto her shoulder and left the office, making sure to put in Sitwell’s code to lock it up.

The building was eerily silent around her. There were hundreds of offices from lobby to penthouse, and yet, the loudest sounds Y/N picked up on all came from outside. She was left with the horns of cars on the crowded New York streets and not much else as she waited for the elevator.

It wasn’t the first time she’d stayed this late. Just the first time she’d finished the whole list. Hopefully that would mean Sitwell would leave her alone first thing tomorrow morning, or at least acknowledge that she’d done every little thing he’d asked. Not likely, but she could hope anyway.

Somewhere down the hallway, someone moved. Their shadow followed them under the LED lights lining the hallway. Stark Tower wasn’t like most other office buildings she’d been in - instead of harsh fluorescents, every room was lit with either natural light during the day or LED bulbs after the sun went down. Normally, most people were gone before the lights went on.

Not Y/N. Not tonight.

And, apparently, not the person approaching her from down the hall.

They stopped beside her just before the elevator made it to their floor. She looked at them through the corner of her vision.

He was tall. Taller than she was, even in her heels. Taller than Sitwell for sure. And where her boss was bald and wore glasses, this man had perfectly styled dirty blonde hair and small but expressive eyes. She couldn’t see their hue from her position.

“Late night?” she heard herself asking the man. She hadn’t even known she’d had it in her to talk to a stranger after work hours, but apparently, him working on the same floor as her was enough to bridge whatever gap was between them.

He nodded as the elevator doors opened, then he held out an arm to signal he wanted her to go in before him. “Unfortunately, yes,” he said.

His voice was deep, a little tired, but not impolite. He sounded as attractive as he looked, and now that he was coming toward her, she got a better idea of just how handsome he was.

He was...like a God. Gorgeous. Sculpted. In a tan suit just a few shades darker than his golden skin. Eyes as blue as lightning, offset by a crisp white t-shirt under the blazer.

“Me too,” she whispered when he turned to stand next to her. The doors shut and the elevator descended.

They’d gone down a few floors before he turned to face her and asked, “If it’s alright, why’re you here so late?”

She hesitated, mostly because she couldn’t think of a reason as to why it wouldn’t be okay for him to ask. Other than him being a total stranger, of course.

But he was a Stark employee. A high ranking one if she was guessing based on his suit and shoes. He had to be safe, right? At least for a brief elevator ride?

“My boss left me a list of things he needed done today or else,” she said. Anything more might be...too much for tonight. “He’s very particular.”

The man nodded. “Sounds to me like he’s got a stick up his arse.”

She couldn’t not laugh at that, the sound reverberating around the elevator. He smiled, too, as if in reaction to her.

“You’re not wrong,” she told him, fighting not to roll her eyes. When she shifted her bag a bit, she stood taller and said, “It’s only fair that if you got to ask, I do too.”

The dinging of the passing floors was only a mild distraction while the man rolled his neck, stretching his arms up so they didn’t collide with her. “My boss is also a stickler for finishing tasks, it seems. But he, at least, still hasn’t left the building.” He chuckled at that, like she was supposed to be in on some kind of joke at his boss’s expense.

All she did was smile, since she didn’t know who his boss was.

“Bosses suck,” she offered.

He nodded again. “That they do.”

Neither of them thought of anything else to say, apparently. The elevator counted down each floor, and they both stared ahead at the doors, as if they were both suddenly desperate to get out.

She couldn’t say what had shifted between them, but now she felt it was too late to start up another conversation. She could have asked him his name or what office he actually worked in, but something in her head stopped her.

Something like the voice of the narrator on one of those late night crime shows her roommate Nat liked to watch. Some irrational fear that, suddenly, this man would hurt her because the sun was down and she was a lone woman in the great, big world. The voice in her head made her clutch her purse tighter, even though she’d only just been talking to that man like they’d known one another already.

When the elevator came to the lobby, she hurried off first, not even stopping to see if he’d made the same motion he’d made when they’d gotten on. Out of nowhere, her mind was on a single track: to get to the subway and make it home in one piece. The closer she got to the front of the building, the more fidgety she became, which totally prevented her from hearing the man call out to her however he could.

She hadn’t even given him her name. He hadn’t given his, either. And now she was leaving, and sure, maybe they worked on the same floor but he could be anyone. He could work in one of at least fifteen different offices on her floor, and with how much work Sitwell gave her every single day, the chances of finding him again were slim to none.

It didn’t matter, and she knew that. She was no one. She was a secretary, some girl from upstate who’d run away from home and stumbled into something so much bigger than herself. And she was alone that night, so her one-track mind was focused on preservation and survival. The map in her head led to one place: home.

---

Thor had never seen that woman before. He was sure of it. All the balls and galas and S.I. events he’d been to and he had never seen her before. He would’ve remembered her face if he had.

He watched the doors as she scurried out, immediate regret sitting heavy in his stomach. He hadn’t gotten her name, didn’t know who her boss was, hadn’t even seen which office she’d come out of.

He knew what his brother would say: She’s just a girl you met on an elevator. Don’t be a fool.

But Loki wasn’t here. And he wasn’t a fool. There was just...something about this girl. Their conversation had been brief, to say the least, but he liked what he’d gotten. And he wanted more.

He made to follow her out the door, but when he stepped onto the still busy street, she was gone. Gone home on a random Wednesday night, no doubt. It was the normal thing to do.

He headed for the subway, taking the stairs slowly into the belly of the city. The early fall air was cool but not cold - not yet - and down here, it was muggy still. Thor pulled his phone and headphones out of his pocket, tuning into a podcast about old dead Pantheons just because he found it interesting. This was one of Loki’s recommendations, and the reminder always made him smile.

Maybe he and his brother didn’t always get along, but when they did, it was usually over shared knowledge.

His train ride lasted only a few minutes, and he was grateful there were no stops tonight. He’d had a 13 hour workday; one “emergency” went off after another. As the director of Stark security, Thor had to be present for every one of them, despite most of them not being actual emergencies. But he’d handled them all, paperwork and the like included, with as much patience and strength as he could.

Up until the clock had struck a certain time and he’d realized he’d been working for way too long, was way too hungry, and just happened to be the last person in the office. It had been at that exact moment that the weight of the day had fallen on his shoulders, nearly smothering him against his desk in surprise.

So he’d cleaned up and left and...run into that woman. Stunning, she was. A little easy to spook, maybe, which was only confirmed when she’d stopped talking to him and nearly sprinted out of the building; but otherwise, she was lovely and nice. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, badgering him because he hadn’t even gotten her name, let alone her contact information.

He trudged up the steps to his street with the thought that he might actually never see that girl again. Stark had way too many employees to go off her physical appearance alone, even if she did work on his floor.

As if she knew she’d been thought of at some point that night, his mother rang him the second he walked through his apartment door. Thor couldn’t help but roll his eyes lightly as he answered the call.

“Hello Mother,” he said, turning on a lamp beside his couch. He went right into the kitchen and opened the fridge, leaning down to glance inside.

“Hello my love,” Frigga said back, just like she always did. “It’s been too long since you last called so I figured I’d check in with you.”

Thor nodded, despite being physically alone. He picked up a package of Havarti cheese that was almost empty and said, “I’m sorry, Mom. Work’s been hectic and-”

“That’s what you always say,” she sighed. “I’d say you’re chock full of excuses but you’ve only got the one. At least your brother gets creative from time to time.”

He could hear the smile in her voice, the teasing she usually laid on him coming on thicker than normal. But he knew Loki was closer to their mother than their father, so he knew the dynamic was different and that Frigga would always comment on that, no matter what. It was her duty and her right, she’d say.

“How is Loki, by the way?” Thor asked her, attempting a subject change.

But he knew, as well as anyone that knew Frigga Odinson, that she would not stand for that.

He pulled out a baggie full of whatever leftover cold cuts he had. Knowing he had to use them soon, before they went bad, he put the cheese and meat on the counter, shut the fridge, and got to work on a basic sandwich.

“Absent at the moment,” she answered shortly. “But I called to talk about you. If you want to know more about your brother, call him.”

Again, he chuckled to himself. Her stern but sticky-sweet tone was to be expected.

“Are you just getting home now, dear?” she asked.

“Yes, unfortunately. You called at the perfect time.”

He could hear the smirk in her voice as she said, “Good. As always.” And then he imagined the smirk falling, because her tone took a sharp turn. “You need to take better care of yourself. How do you ever expect to find a wife if you’re so busy at work all the time?”

“Well, the thing is, Mom-”

“Don’t go giving me the ‘I’m not ready’ speech, dear. You tried that already. Seven years ago. Didn’t work then, won’t work now. You’re the director of that office, you should hire a deputy to take some of the load off of your shoulders!”

He’d love to say he was surprised at her interjecting, but he truly, truly wasn’t. Frigga had practically run a part of her husband’s own company, before he’d sold it and gone into retirement, neither of his sons having been deemed worthy to pass it down to.

Not that Loki or Thor were complaining about that. Thor quite liked the job he’d chosen, thank you very much.

He took a bite out of the hastily made sandwich before saying, “I’d have to have time to go through applications and interviews for that, Mom.”

“Oh, nonsense. Tony Stark hired you and he can hire a deputy to work with you even if you’re unable to attend the interviews.”

Thor sighed. This wasn’t a normal conversation with his mother, but she wasn’t aware of every detail on how he’d gotten his position, and he was too tired to get into it. But he did tell her, “Tony and I are old friends. He had an opening for a position I was qualified for - I barely interviewed because he was aware of my credentials. That doesn’t just happen for everyone.”

“You’d be surprised by how aware of that I am, dear,” his mother said, passive aggressive sarcasm dripping from every syllable. She was growing tired of waiting for grandchildren, and even more so as the seconds of this conversation ticked by. “I’m sure there’s someone that could help you, directly or otherwise. You need some time for yourself, or you’re going to end up alone, unhappy, and unfulfilled like your aunt Freyja.”

On a good day, Frigga wasn’t judgmental like that. Apparently, this was not a good day.

“I’d hardly say Freyja’s unfulfilled, Mom. She owns her own company-”

“She makes lingerie for her Instagram store. I wouldn’t call that fabulously successful.”

Thor had nothing else to say. He wasn’t about to get into an argument with his mother, especially not when she was being rather unreasonable. Maybe she was just having an off night, or perhaps she was feeling a particularly nasty bout of Empty Nesters Syndrome - even after more than a decade of living in a house without her children. Either way, he was not about to let her blame him for whatever it was, but he also wasn’t going to tell her off.

He sighed, finishing off his sandwich easily. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I’m really exhausted. If I promise to revisit the deputy idea in the near future, could I possibly say goodnight and talk to you later?”

She hrumphed, but ultimately ceded. “Yes, of course dear. I love you very much.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She hung up first, as she always did. Thor locked his phone, put what was left of his sandwich supplies away, and headed for his bedroom.

He stripped down, brushed his teeth, and set an alarm for the morning, ignoring the reminder in his head that he didn’t even get that girl’s name before she’d disappeared into New York City. He was in bed before he knew it, and when he shut his eyes, all he saw was her.