This morning I took my boss aside and explained that I’m having bad reaction to my medication, just so she’s aware that it’s not who I really am.
It’s like an X-Files episode…“We’re not…who….we are!”.
I was fine til just before lunch, when I had thee most illiterate asshole old fart call in for support, and he couldn’t even SEE shit on the screen to find where I was directing him verbally. UGH. I kept growling on mute. Cow-orkers again asked me if I’m okay. I said NO.
Then as I was preparing to go to lunch, my podmate came over to me to vent in a not so hushed manner about how she’s about to freak out and quit on the spot, how much management sucks with all the shit they’re piling on us, how she doesn’t care if she’s away from her phone right now when she’s supposed to be taking the next call, and how she hates certain NAMED managers who don’t even DO work all day. I didn’t know what to say, except that I’ve had bad days, too. While she ranted on, the NAMED boss in question came into our cube to feign looking for OUR manager, then looked at my cow-orker talking to me, and went back to his cube next door. I mean, come ON, woman! Could you put yourself in anymore precarious a situation? And don’t be making me guilty by association!
GAH.
First the furry, now this girl.
I mean, I’m nutso. I admit it. But at least I know WHY and warn my manager as to the REASON. And I keep to myself other than that.
This girl – she’s myself three jobs ago, when I acted out on a regular basis and got myself fired from the same corporation TWICE.
I had more aggression towards customers (on mute, I love the mute button) throughout the day. I left work pissed off because I never did get ahold of my doctor, and yes, I did try to reach her.
I drove recklessly out of the parking lot and zoned out on the way home. Halfway home, I realised I’d forgotten to re-fax in my timecard to the agency, because they never did get my last timecard TWO WEEKS AGO.
This damned agency HARDLY EVER received my timecard. I’d fax it every week and nearly every week I’d have to re-fax it. Either they suck or the workplace’s fax machine sucks. Either way though… I’ll still blame the agency. Screw them. Whatever.
So I got pissed again. I have to remember to fax it tomorrow.
Then I got home, checked my mailbox, and discovered that the book scanning company STILL has not sent me my tax papers. I can’t file my tax return til I have their papers. I’ve already called once last week about this. So I entered the house, SLAMMED the door, THREW my shit down on the floor, and called the bastards. I left a nasty message threatening legal action. These are the assholes after all who wanted to fire me for having george pains and having to be off of work a couple of times per month. These are the same assholes who hired a friend of mine, who raised their scanning numbers OFF THE CHARTS to new crazy highs, and then FIRED HER for also having health issues and needing emergency surgery for a compressed disc (she’s suing, btw).
So naturally, I’m in NO mood to do housework now that I’m home. The dishes haven’t been done since Friday. The kitchen smells like a kennel from all the food and eggshells and stuff in the sink.
I don’t care.
I lit incense rather than deal with it.
Then I started drinking. My boyfriend offered to get a pizza, but then called and said he wouldn’t be home in time before the pizza joint closed. I told him we could fend for ourselves, no worries. But he had his heart set on pizza.
So I went and got a pizza.
I got back into my car with the pizza, started the car, and drove OVER the parking spot divider.
Some guy had just parked in front of me and to the left, and saw the whole thing.
Then I backed over the curb instead of continuing forward, for fear of scraping the gas tank, and I almost hit the van parked to my left.
That would have RULED!
The guy stayed in his car the entire time…
It was funny.
And this is what recklessness I’ve come to, being on the Yasmin for 3 weeks.
I feel like I’m 23 again.