Fair enough. If I witnessed a deer bashing its own brains out, I would definitely be so fucking freaked out my memory would be doing wild shit about the encounter, too. Filling in details that weren't there, not noticing that only part of the brain fell out, just completely unreliable.
Middle management killed my soul. I refused to extract every last drop of productivity from my reports. I did everything I could possibly do for them, but I couldn't make things right for them. (I advocated for raises, promotions, increased staffing, and more frequent breaks.)
Under my management, my team was more productive than they were with other leadership. (Both the numbers and the customers agreed.) My managers said it was great, but then would complain when they saw them not working 100% of the time. (This was "wasteful.")
The other middle managers were willing to do what I wouldn't. Upper management would pass me over for promotions, for the middle managers that were willing to be lackeys that would grind up our staff for the good of profit. My mistake was that I wanted to provide great service and treat my staff like the competent professionals they were. The real vision was to provide the bare minimum, find creative ways to fleece the customers, and do it all by whatever means necessary.
I've been there. I am much happier not in management. I hope you're doing well.
...am I in the minority where I don't mind making calls all that much? I prefer doing things online, but sometimes a 5 minute call is easier than dragged out asynchronous correspondence.
Yes. You know how cold-blooded creatures can't regulate their own temperature and warm-blooded can, to some extent? Well, hot-blooded creatures, like the gays, can just adjust as needed.
Gender dysphoria, continental drift