Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Starbucks Now Accepting Applications

It finally happened.

I have finally crossed the line that divides "I hate my job but I can put up with it and manage to get through the days" and "I hate my job and I will no longer be a pleasant person to be around and I am seriously looking for other employment". I am on the latter side now. The transition has been slowly happening over the last few weeks.

The causes of my rage:
  • the hatred - pardon me - the extreme hatred I have for my boss
  • the realization that everything I do is completely useless and unproductive (because of said hated boss)
  • the daily bitchiness and general negativity from hated boss
  • complete disgust at the fact that hated boss practically sucks other boss' cock even though other boss is complete clueless moron
  • the realization that my refusal to become a cock-sucking sycophant will gaurantee my stagnation in this organization
  • the knowledge that I am so much smarter than all of this and I am not being challenged
  • my windowless fucking cubicle
  • the idiots that I have to work around
  • the complete lack of ANY privacy around the office
  • knowing that I could have had something better and now I am stuck

The line crossing occurred on Monday of this week when I finally stood up to hated boss and told her how I really felt about her opinion on something I did. I have no idea what the ramifications of this will be, probably nothing as she appeared to become spineless when I opened my mouth.

I think I have to look for another job.

Office Girl

Thursday, March 16, 2006

This is my cubicle. There are many like it but this one is mine...

Okay. I know I complain about work a lot, but seriously, I work in an atmosphere filled with so many big, rude, type-A personalities that I am convinced that this place is an anomaly. Nowhere else, in any other office, could there possibly be the same amount of complete assholes.

On top of this, I have the misfortune of having to work for a person who likes to do nothing other than, well, work, and be at work. She really does not have a lot going on outside of this place and also feels that I should be here at all hours too. What is the deal with these people? All they do is work. They don't even bill for the overtime. One suggestion might be that they actually enjoy their job, but I know this is not the case with her. Oh, the rage. I was stuck here until 6:30pm last night and you can bet your bippy that will be the last time I do that. My philosophy is that if they cannot fit all the work they need you to do in a 40 hour week, they need to hire another body. I sure as hell am not picking up the slack.

I must work for a cyborg. It loves to pour over documents again and again until they are "perfect". You know what perfectionists are? They are timewasters. Being a perfectionist is retarded. It is the most inefficient use of time in the office. The thing is, these people think it's something to be proud of. They have been programmed. I need to get out of here.

The problem is, if I get pregnant, I need the time that I have put in here. If I get another job, I don't think it will give me enough "time served" in order to qualify for maternity benefits. I'm trapped here. I am trapped in a windowless cubicle, with a bunch of people who would rather be here than anywhere else.

Help.

Office Girl.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Khara

That is the arabic word for "shit", which is how I have been feeling for the past 4 days. I am currently having my ass kicked by a nasty little virus that I probably contracted from some idiot in my office. I had to use up three sick days this week and I am still sick as hell but felt I should save the other sick days I have for another time. I get 10 a year, which isn't too bad; unless you get a fucking superbug like I have that makes short work of your immune system, rendering you a useless, stuffed up, phlegm bag that has to complain to her husband about how sick she is every five minutes. This virus has turned me into a wimp.

I surrender.

Anyway. I have come back to an inbox piled high with work. I officially really hate my job. I am seriously considering setting up a shrine in my bedroom to some fertility goddess. Must...get...pregnant...leave...this...place.

I am partly joking of course. I do want a baby for more reasons other than to get out of this shit hole; but lets just say I am not clinging to my career like some 40 year old paralegal who, at 43, finally decides she is ready to get pregnant and has to take fertility drugs and eventually gives birth to retarded triplets.

Woah. Sorry. Cold medication.

I'll leave it at that. When I finally get all the snot out of my head and am able to stand up without getting severe vertigo, I will post again.

Office Girl.