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| 2002-05-07 - 1:34 p.m.
Waves of Nausea
Coming back has been worse than imagined. Only gone FOUR days (really, only two, since I did all my regular weekend stuff, not requiring any extra effort from anyone), and I'm cleaning up shit all over the place. Apparently, everyone I work with, save one, is a fucking imbecile. Despite the fact that I wrote a fucking BOOK about my daily tasks, outlining them and giving step by step instructions for completing them, there was a great deal of mindless running around, wringing of hands and whining that it was so haaaaaard. I spent some time at Monster.com today. I sent a resume to WENDY'S, for crying out loud. And the sad part, they pay 5-10 K a year more than I make now. Beloved says the fact that it all goes to hell should make me feel good, and valuable. But I don't. Because I'm not valued, I'm used. No one openly appreciates my work, they just depend on it to be done. It makes me feel trapped. I have to find something else. I would love to have the balls (and the financial reserves) to walk into the boss' office, put my letter of resignation on the desk, and walk out. God that would feel delicious.
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