Total. Fucking. Rant.

I am fucking sick to death of this. Sick to fucking death of the way this company operates. Our management is bullshit.
Okay, so I'm only a relief editor. I'm not the full-blown box and dice. It matters naught - I'm more than capable of editing and have been doing it regularly for the last two years.
The thing that shits me is what a pointless fucking job it is to have. I don't know what people imagine when they hear the word "editor". "I'll put you through to my editor," the journo's say. Sounds important, doesn't it?
Well it's not. We're fucking totally castrated, hamstrung, copy-providers. NOTHING MORE.
We. Are. Providers. Of. Copy.
Which is all journalists are. The only difference with being an editor at this company is that you cop all the abusive phone calls and delete the porn out of the spam/email queue.
You're entrusted with the task of deciding which story goes on which page of the paper, but if the sub-editors disagree with you, then consider yourself over-ruled. It makes no difference how well you put your case.
I am sick to death of late-night and weekend calls from subs asking me if a sentence means what it says. So if and when a vacancy for an editorship comes up, should I be offered it, I will have to say no. And I'll tell them the fucking reasons too.
Take that. Cnuts.