The interminal week continues.
Apparently, if you clear a flat surface, my boss will have it covered with his crap by the next morning.
Meanwhile, some people, rather than, oh, I don’t know, emptying the trash can when they put their stinky leftovers in it, instead continue piling garbage into the can until it’s overflowing onto the drinks sold to customers. Because god forbid they should have to clean up after themselves.
In other news, drivers who tailgate you down two streets when there was plenty of room to pass and when you’re going the speed limit are shitheads.
Also, even my bastion of light and hope, R. Gabriel’s, dropped the ball this morning by 1) making me the wrong smoothie; 2) not putting the lid on correctly, so that it spilled all over my shirt and pants. The only upside is that it is a delicious smoothie, but that’s to be expected.
Things that have been said to me:
- I resent you, because you get paid and I don’t, yet you get on your blog at work sometimes, which means that obviously you don’t respect the fact that you get paid. But, as a businessman, who are you going to employ? The team that can do the job in a week, or the one drug addict who can get it done in an hour?
- I can’t afford to pay you a decent salary, or give you decent hours doing the things that need to be done. Oh, look, I bought myself an Aeron chair!
- Ooo, want to hold hands?
(That last when our hands brushed as we both went for the same drawer in a filing cabinet. I said, “No thank you, I’ll pass!” with such fervor that he didn’t say anything else.)
Three more days of this shit. Jesus.