I'm Chafing (In The Figurative Sense, But I'm Chafing)

So I got cut early from work Wednesday through Friday this week.  This is a concerted effort by my boss to keep me at 40 hours every week so I don't cost my company overtime.  It has happened last week.  He has also told me, a few times, that he is under orders to keep me under 40.

I think I have blog posted about this, but it was this week, and in particular yesterday/Friday, when I finally felt being cut to 40 hours.  On Wednesday my boss took note of the extra hours I spent Monday and Tuesday in The Fourth Department and said via e-mail to make up for that by leaving early the rest of the week so that I add up to only 40.

I don't like that, so I tried to carve out an exception whereby, if the work coming into The Main Department is running late to the point where everybody in that department will have to stay late (and extra) in order to do the job, I thought it best to stick around and help out, even if it is just five minutes.

Well, yesterday/Friday was touch-and-go.  For a while there it seemed as if the work coming our way was coming out late and, late in the afternoon, it was coming fast and furious.  We are able to check how many forms are still needed to be keyed, and from looking at that I thought there was enough compelling evidence to at least ask my boss if I could stay late -- you know, to "help finish up."

So I went down to his office and asked if I should stay.  And, while not turning around, he immediately said, "No, you can leave as soon as you reach 40 hours."  Well, OK, then.  I turned around and started walking away ... but not before stammering out, "You know, I just wanted to make sure you didn't need me just in case there was work, you know."  And in typing that sentence I definitely know I didn't really say that, or any sentence that made any sense.  I was, frankly, kind of floored at his tone, how dismissive of any flexibility to get the job done, and how insistent he was of finally pinning me down to just 40 hours after weeks, if not months, of racking up OT.

I'm still thinking about that little exchange we had, and the more I ruminate on it, honestly, the more pissed off I get.  I said this earlier, but I believe it even more so now: I was thrown into a situation where I had to stay late in order to get the job done or else I would get yelled at.  But in staying late I accrued overtime pay, and the more I had to stay to finish the work, the more OT money I got.  Yes, I got used to having a slightly fatter paycheck than I would have if I stuck to 40 hours.  So now that things have settled down, my boss -- again, under orders from his higher-ups -- has taken vengeance upon my OT banking and cracked down on me.

I think I said this in an earlier blog post too: Being told to cut back to 40 hours after routinely getting overtime pay feels like I'm getting money taken away from me.  Add that feeling to the feeling I was being ... oh, dismissed and minimized by my boss yesterday/Friday, and you know what?  I'm starting to think that looking for another job isn't a bad thing to do.  Because this is fucking bullshit.