When it rains it poops...all over you...

So I just got back from a wonderfully relaxing and utterly stress free trip to the country with Klemblausker (Embla+Klaus+Askur) consisting of roughly 48 hours of peace, quiet, good food, fun company, sun-bathing, and beer. Got home last night and slept the sleep of the wicked*.

So I should be all kinds of mellow downing my morning joe, despite the rather rainy Reyklausvik morning I will shortly have to go out and work in.

But I'm not.

As Jimmy once stated, "Bureaucracy is the number one cause of Anarchists", and boy, do I feel like smashin' the State, in particular the Reykjavik Department of Sports and Wreck-creation.

One of the reasons I choose to work for them, aside from the fact that at least its a not-for-profit operation and the work is both creative and challenging (at least when you do it right), is that you can count on them to pay you what you are owed unlike a lot of private companies (Mother Fuckin' Tacos springs to mind).

But because they continually split the city into new districts for every fucking department and seem desperately opposed to leaving any two the same for more than a year, I've just gotten paid about a third of what I should have been paid. Which means that even if they fix it, my several-months long record of having at least 70,000 ISK in the bank at the end of every month is kaput.

Now, thing is, everyone makes the occasional mistake, and when it comes to paying people, the city tends to make a minimum of such clusterfucks. This is not Payroll's fault you see. This is the fucking bureaucrat muckitimucks up at the top who keep "reorganizing" the department every couple of months to justify their bloated politically appointed paychecks.

And their "reorganizing" sucks. Hell, somewhere in the definition of "Icelandic" should be the phrase "poor to non-existent organizational skills". Which leads to things like my being required to be at three separate training sessions in three separate locations at the same goddamned time, or a pay stub that says I've gotten just over a third of what I should and claiming that the majority of June (when I've been working my ass off at the Smidavellir, just me and one other guy helping 84 8-12 year olds build playhouses) I've been on "unpaid vacation".

Fuckers are gonna PAY!

*The wicked sleep as soundly as the virtuous, but they have much more entertaining naughty dreams.