Scathe...good title, sounds like the name to an album or a song. Scathe is the email I received from my normally wonderful boss yesterday, in response to our performance Monday. Didn't matter we were 4 operators short, we only have 16 total. Each operator takes a minimum of 30 calls a day in most cases. Our job is time consuming, picking up extra calls is a challenge yet we strive for it daily. So, logic states we wouldn't be able to answer all the calls and if we did it would be extraordinary.

Unforuntately, that's not the case. We were essentially informed in the email that we all were terrible employees, because we lost 80 calls that day. Didn't matter that we were short, that most of us skipped lunch, a few started early, and stayed late, so on. It's all our fault that the calls weren't answered and our revenue goal wasn't met.

Scathing is the feeling that runs up and down my spine when I think of the email. We had to put into writing why we didn't answer enough calls and turn it in to the boss. If humiliation was the goal of this little project then humiliation was achieved. My coworkers and I feel lower than low. Incomptent. Stupid. This excercise in self-esteem has provided a lack there of.

Big corporate giant let the shit out on my boss, and shit rolls down hill always. We weren't good enough, and we aren't good enough clearly. It's funny how we judge our self worth based on our jobs. And right now, I feel like dirt. Perhaps, it's time to wash the it all off, take a shower and strike out on my own.

Because I hate scathe.