29 April 2012
I'm finding that I'm fearing (or is that really hating?) work.
Friday night and Saturday is fine. I can leave the office with the thought that I'll deal with it 'next week'. Once Sunday afternoon settles in and thoughts return of commuting, what to wear, what I need to do on Monday, how to act, the thoughts of dread also settle in. Will I get through the day without saying the wrong thing, will I just say something stupid instead, will I get another public berating that I take far too personally for small stupid things?
I know logically that the problem isn't with me. I'm intelligent, good at what I do, and just too damn long in the tooth to be messing about with uncertainty. My teenage years are already twenty years behind me, thank you very much. The problem is with someone else; young and greener than she wants people to know, she thinks she can command respect and feels the need to assert rank and prove 'her place' at any given moment with me as the whipping boy. The bigger problem here, is that I'm just too nice to say kiss my ass. In a polite and 'respectable' way of course.
I've got to go. I need to start getting things together for the morning because if I don't do it now it'll just make me late for the commute and it takes a good forty-five minutes to clean my gun thoroughly. I wouldn't want it to jam or misfire when I attend the morning briefing.
Work • Opuss № I