Post-Festivus Airing of Grievances

I am late in observing a fine Festivus tradition, namely the airing of grievances. Belatedly, I offer this kvetching for 2005:

To my family: That's right. I do not multitask as well I formerly did. Do some of the tasking yourself and do not expect me to carry on a scintillating, vibrant conversation without pause, other than for a Tourettish expletive or three, while driving in Jersey traffic.

To my employer: I am grateful to have my job. Really. I enjoy what I do, and considering the doldrums of the industry (see "To Merck" below), I am not looking a gift horse in the mouth. However, I despise tormenting my staff, and myself, with lengthy performance reviews when the average yearly raise is 2%. Just let me give them all a pat on the back and an "attagirl" or "attaboy" as appropropriate rather than pouring Human Resouces Brand distilled vinegar into wounds by way of a complex matrix of objective results and highly subjective behaviors.

To my city of residence: Your town and gown interactions are the worst I have ever seen. Princeton students rarely step off campus and mingle with the hoi polloi in the community, or at least this seems the case compared to other college towns where I have lived. It must be due to the gritty urban street scenes of Princeton Boro and the Township. Oh, and while you're at it, relax the prudish liquor licensing and attract some decent restaurants and bars into town, OK? More streetlights, too. A spill while perambulating in the pre-dawn dark a few weeks ago really spooked me.

To Merck: What can I say? The industry was at the edge of the crapper, and you had to go and give it a big flush.

To the Boston Globe: This is a special grievance and one which just barely makes the end of the year finish line. It may even inspire a separate blog entry:

Women in Science Weigh Lab vs Life Goals.

Thanks so very, very much, Ms. Bombardieri, for contributing to the myth that the only worthwhile career path in scientific research for women, or men for that matter, is to be found as an academic at a tier-one university. And to the hapless biochem grad student who does not wish to pursue a career in the pharmaceutical industry because she will "feel like a drone.," well, I'll have you know I am no drone. I am a queen bee, goddammit!

Finally, to Kilgore: Stop moaning so much. The neighbors are complaining.