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Dec. 2nd, 2008 10:53 pmI am so furious right now. Absolutely livid. Fuming.
So my last Christmas at CPT, we desperately needed some holiday cheer at the office. As I was really the only one there with any sense of humor to begin with, I brought in all of my Christmas CDs. All. Like, ten or twelve. All of my Mannheim Steamroller, Charlie Brown, a Jazz album that I'm pretty sure is out of print, and more. I never really got around to bringing them home after that; it didn't seem urgent, and we had bigger fish to fry.
Fast forward a few months- the shit hits the fan, I get sick, and I'm never in the office again. Some of you already know that I have a very broken relationship with CPT- I have a few people that I call friends, but there is a very acrimonious split between me and the organizational higher-ups. I'm not going to go into the details at the moment.
So the last few Christmases, my albums haven't been that big a deal. I wasn't in that much of a mood to celebrate, after all. Earlier this year, however, I started thinking about where all my great Christmas albums went, and after thinking hard, I remembered where I had last left them.
I am friends with one person on Facebook who works in administration there. I say "friend" loosely, because we have very little affiliation except for having each other on our respective lists. So I messaged him a couple weeks ago asking about the CDs, and if, as a huge favor, he could locate them, and send them to me, as I didn't know how I'd otherwise get down there to retrieve them. He said sure, he could do that, let him look.
Some time went by. I didn't think about it much, since I had said he could send them "media mail" (since they are, technically, media) to save money, and that can sometimes take two or three weeks.
Well, today I got this response: "Hi Amy, I looked and looked and didn't find them, so I asked around, and folks thought that someone might have unknowingly taken them to the Salvation Army or something! So sorry! I know that's a bummer, those were good albums...."
I find it very, very hard to believe that no one knew or suspected those were my albums- first of all, when I brought them in, everyone was so excited that someone had brought Christmas music in, and the office itself didn't keep too many CDs around of any sort, at any time. I find it very hard to believe that "someone" might have "unknowingly" taken them to the Salvation Army. Second of all, the office was never in the habit of picking up things that were left around and taking them anywhere- much less the Salvation Army. I think "Someone" knew exactly who they belonged to, and for whatever reason- to teach me a lesson, to get back money they spent on my medical bills- that they contracted to spend on my medical bills when I joined the organization- or just because they decided they didn't like me any more, thought it was okay to get rid of them.
In fact, I'm getting closer and closer to naming that "someone"'s name in my public journal. I decided not to talk about my acrimonious split with CPT in my LJ, because despite the fact that I really feel they have behaved abysmally in various ways to me (and others), I thought their organization still had merit, and because I still have friends- very good friends, and in fact, now housemates- that work with them. But this is too much. This is absolutely too much.
Don't join CPT. It is colonialist activism, the organization is rife with problems with racism, sexism, heterosexism, and classism, and most people in administration have been there too long, make questionable decisions, and let their extreme burn-out affect people in their personal lives in horrifying ways.
Maybe this post sounds rash or irrational, but it is really the last in a long line of pretty shitty stuff they have pulled, on me, and on many people I call friends. It is, in a most unfunny way, the straw that broke the camel's back. I'm done. I'm not even going to pretend that there is a chance of dialogue or reconciliation with them. That's it.
Halas.
So my last Christmas at CPT, we desperately needed some holiday cheer at the office. As I was really the only one there with any sense of humor to begin with, I brought in all of my Christmas CDs. All. Like, ten or twelve. All of my Mannheim Steamroller, Charlie Brown, a Jazz album that I'm pretty sure is out of print, and more. I never really got around to bringing them home after that; it didn't seem urgent, and we had bigger fish to fry.
Fast forward a few months- the shit hits the fan, I get sick, and I'm never in the office again. Some of you already know that I have a very broken relationship with CPT- I have a few people that I call friends, but there is a very acrimonious split between me and the organizational higher-ups. I'm not going to go into the details at the moment.
So the last few Christmases, my albums haven't been that big a deal. I wasn't in that much of a mood to celebrate, after all. Earlier this year, however, I started thinking about where all my great Christmas albums went, and after thinking hard, I remembered where I had last left them.
I am friends with one person on Facebook who works in administration there. I say "friend" loosely, because we have very little affiliation except for having each other on our respective lists. So I messaged him a couple weeks ago asking about the CDs, and if, as a huge favor, he could locate them, and send them to me, as I didn't know how I'd otherwise get down there to retrieve them. He said sure, he could do that, let him look.
Some time went by. I didn't think about it much, since I had said he could send them "media mail" (since they are, technically, media) to save money, and that can sometimes take two or three weeks.
Well, today I got this response: "Hi Amy, I looked and looked and didn't find them, so I asked around, and folks thought that someone might have unknowingly taken them to the Salvation Army or something! So sorry! I know that's a bummer, those were good albums...."
I find it very, very hard to believe that no one knew or suspected those were my albums- first of all, when I brought them in, everyone was so excited that someone had brought Christmas music in, and the office itself didn't keep too many CDs around of any sort, at any time. I find it very hard to believe that "someone" might have "unknowingly" taken them to the Salvation Army. Second of all, the office was never in the habit of picking up things that were left around and taking them anywhere- much less the Salvation Army. I think "Someone" knew exactly who they belonged to, and for whatever reason- to teach me a lesson, to get back money they spent on my medical bills- that they contracted to spend on my medical bills when I joined the organization- or just because they decided they didn't like me any more, thought it was okay to get rid of them.
In fact, I'm getting closer and closer to naming that "someone"'s name in my public journal. I decided not to talk about my acrimonious split with CPT in my LJ, because despite the fact that I really feel they have behaved abysmally in various ways to me (and others), I thought their organization still had merit, and because I still have friends- very good friends, and in fact, now housemates- that work with them. But this is too much. This is absolutely too much.
Don't join CPT. It is colonialist activism, the organization is rife with problems with racism, sexism, heterosexism, and classism, and most people in administration have been there too long, make questionable decisions, and let their extreme burn-out affect people in their personal lives in horrifying ways.
Maybe this post sounds rash or irrational, but it is really the last in a long line of pretty shitty stuff they have pulled, on me, and on many people I call friends. It is, in a most unfunny way, the straw that broke the camel's back. I'm done. I'm not even going to pretend that there is a chance of dialogue or reconciliation with them. That's it.
Halas.
