That word, you keep using it*

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

Dear Internets,

I’ve ignored this for as long as I could. Something has to be said.

“Begging the Question” is a specific logical fallacy in which the person presenting the argument assumes what they claim to be proving. There are a whole bunch of sites where you can look this up. Here is an example:

Paranormal phenomena exist because I have had experiences that can only be described as paranormal.

(Skepdic.com)

I also like this definintion from Fallacyfiles.org:

The phrase “begging the question”, or “petitio principii” in Latin, refers to the “question” in a formal debate—that is, the issue being debated. In such a debate, one side may ask the other side to concede certain points in order to speed up the proceedings. To “beg” the question is to ask that the very point at issue be conceded, which is of course illegitimate.

Begging the question does NOT mean to raise or ask the question, like in this headline:

Latest Internet Fracas Begs the Question:
Who’s Driving the Internet Bus?

Okay? Can we all move on now?

I’m guessing not, but I had to try.

Thanks,

eringoblog

*I do not think it means what you think it means.

I can’t be fired…I’m fired?

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

My blogfriend Mac just got dooced. She’s asking her readers to share their firing stories. I started this as a response in her comments, but it got way too long.

Let me share just a bit of my own crazypants nonprofit story for now. I started working for a local nonprofit in their “communications” department (more on that later). Soon after I started, I found that the last person in my position had quit after three days. This should have been a sign…anyway, part of my position involved writing grant proposals, which I had zero experience doing (and was entirely up front about in the interview process). I was assured that I would have plenty of support. Hahaha.

It was bad from day one. My first assignment was to write a letter of recommendation for the ED about some high school girl/summer employee/friend of the ED’s family that (of course) I had never met. I silently screamed WTF? while doing my best to complete the task. My first attempt was given back to me with the instruction, “No, it needs to be *glowing*.” WTF.

Probably by 6 months, I knew that I needed to get the hell out of Dodge…but I was advised by people I trusted to try and stick it out for a year b/c it would be better for my resume.

Now, here’s where things really went crazy. I was assigned to work on a BS grant proposal–ED was fond of chasing the money, regardless of whether or not that particular grant actually made sense for the organization or not, but whatever. He teamed me up with another employee and had us basically building a program around this grant he wanted. I wanted to beat him…but again, I tried. During all of this, the opportunity came up for me to go on a trip to the UK with my then boyfriend. I talked to the assistant director about it, and decided to go. Immediately upon returning, I was scheduled to attend a week-long grantsmanship training with a couple of other employees, which I did.

When I got back to the office, I was given a “test.” The ED wanted to fire me. The assistant director and the guy who took me to the grantsmanship training convinced him to give me another shot. Basically, I was given a “fake” proposal to write and told that it was do or die–I would be kept or let go based on the ED’s assessment of my performance.

I failed. He fired me, which is what I am convinced he wanted to do from the moment I was hired.

It sucked…but the job sucked more. I was never more miserable than I was when I worked there, which is too bad…because I liked a lot of the people who worked there, and I really believed in the organization.

The “communications” department was a laugh, too. It was a hodgepodge of jobs that included grant writing, PR, event planning, running the youth service program, as well as anything else the ED felt like throwing in our direction. He treated us like secretaries (despite the fact that he, um, HAD a secretary). He had misguided notions about the press…he frequently wanted me to write and submit feature articles about whatever and submit them to the local paper, and no amount of, “Um, that’s really not the way it works,” would stop him. I wanted to scream, “You want good PR? Pissing off the newspaper is NOT the way to do it.”

I could go on, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that it got better…