Friday, March 10, 2006


My co-worker, Elaine*, asked me what was bothering me today.

My outloud response: "I'm just tired."

My inloud response: "I fucking hate you, that's what's bothering me. You should have been the one fired, you should have been the one punished. And I hate how you suck up to people and I hate how fake you are. I hate how you think you have it all figured out. I hate how you make me give you high fives when there is nothing really that has happened to warrant a high five. I just fucking hate my job and everything involved in it right now. And I hate that I can't quit because I'm too fucking safe and because I care too much about what I've started. And as far as I'm concerned, it's all your fault because you were the one who told them to hire me. THANKS."

I don't really hate Elaine, I promise. Elaine just gets under my skin because she places blame where it should not be placed and because she is very inconsistent with her behavior. Inconsistency, in case you haven't noticed, is one of the things that makes my blood boil. I've had to deal with too much of it in my personal life. We work here, we get paid to be here so do your fucking job. I should be able to depend on her. Alas, I cannot. And that's why I'm so pissed off.

I like my new boss, but I wish she would unconditionally see things my way and make changes accordingly. I wish she would take me away from this place.

Elaine, before leaving the office, wished me a nice weekend and then added "I hope that things get better for you."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling her that things would be WAY better if a) she actually started doing her job and stopped being such a fake fuck or 2) she would quit and go away forever.

You wouldn't know it was Friday. Or that I really wasn't a bitch in the above situation.

*Real names have been changed to protect me.