8:49 PM - Wednesday, Aug. 18, 2004
Lick my lovely rectum hole.
I took today off from work. I wasn't feeling good physically, but mostly because I wasn't feeling good mentally. The stress of Friday, Monday and Tuesday really got to me, I believe. Plus, Mark chewed me out on Tuesday for putting Dear Mr. Jackman, Jr. on a letter instead of just Dear Mr. Jackman. I had done a mail merge, and the mail merge did it automatically. What did I care? There were 63 people I had to find addresses for and enter into the computer within one morning. So what if the program automatically put Jr. after Mr. Jackman's name? I said, "Oh, I'm sorry. The mail merge must of done that automatically. I'll redo it for you." He said, "That's no excuse. You should edit and proof-read all of your work before you push print."
Well, what does he expect from me? Perfection? There's no way in hell anybody is going to get perfection out of me when I'm demanded to do the workload of five employees, answer the god damn fucking phones by myself when they definitely need at least two professional receptionists handling them, get bothered by people walking in and out of my area at random every hour that I'm in there, and have 6 adults I have to answer too and do the grunt work for... and to them it always has to be done PRONTO! "Type up this 10 page letter, copy these maps and mail them out this morning to the partners!" This comes to me at ten AM. The postman gets there at 10:30 AM. I'm not kidding you! The phones ringing. I have to stop every 2 minutes to answer the phone, sometimes taking five minutes to take a message, or hunt the god damn person down, and before you know it... the letter hasn't gotten done being typed and it's after 1 PM. And I haven't had any lunch or a break, and I've been working since 8:30 AM nonstop. And when it does get done? "Oh, you can't leave. You have to be here to answer the phones." "what about my lunch?" "You should have taken that at noon when everybody is free to leave the building." "But you told me I couldn't leave at noon because somebody had to be here to answer the phones." "Well, you can do lunch tomorrow." Bullshit. The same thing will be repeated the next day... and the next... and the next.
FUCK YOU!
I'm going to snack down on Wheat Thins right now!
I need to marry rich. I need to marry a man with a shit load of money because I know my destiny is to be bossing people around, and sipping cold frozen strawberry daquiries by the pool while I wear nothing but a bikini and a diamond necklace and ten rings on each finger... and they all have an expensive jewel in them... and .... and stuff! I don't care if the man wins the lottery or he's fucking Bill Gates and is given silence money. Screw working. Screw this job. Screw the people I work with because I think they truly need it. And screw Kansas most of all because the people here are pissing me the fuck off anymore.
I'm gonna log off now. My wheat thins are calling my name. Wait. No. That was 'yan on the other end of the phone line.
Adios.
