Work Shit
For some reason I dumbly decided to open my work email last night before heading to bed. I wish I didn’t.
My annoying client sent me a long letter full of complaints. It’s that time of month again when she goes super anal on me (no, not the anal you’re thinking about), noticing every little molecule of flaw that I’ve done in the month. For any other employer, those little things may have been fine. Tolerable, even. But to her, being the queen of OCD that she is, it should be done “correctly” and “right away”.
I am this close to stepping out of my chosen line of work and just stay jobless until I’ve usurped all my savings down to the last penny. Yes, I can do that.
If only I had the luxury. If only I had the balls. If only I wasn’t too scared.
