Tuesday, August 26, 2003
Here's a post I wrote earlier but couldn't put up.
15:48: For fuck's sake, check this out, the hits keep coming.
I used to work with two other people. Judith went on holiday and was due back last Monday. Didn't show. Still not back. Ian is off for two weeks now too, so that's 10 days I've been running the department on my own - taking all the shit from the arsey clients etc. I phone my agency last week to book Monday off (otherwise not paid) and see how much holiday I have left. 12 days. Peach. So I've been looking forward to my 2 and a half weeks off all weekend. Think today, "Hmmm, wonder when I have to take them by?" I phone to check. Guess when? June... 2003. They're gone! Brilliant. No one told me the deadline was coming up, but they're gone. Cheers Cheryl, you fucking bitch, for your empathetic, "well, I know it seems unfair, but it's not our responsibility to keep track of it..." Go fuck yourself, and by the way, that tattoo on your fat arm is really, really ugly.
AND
I can't get on the internet as from this afternoon, need a password - it was the only thing that was keeping me sane. So, I talk to no one all day except wanker-clients and now I can't even get on the BBC website, let alone blogs or Friendster.
This could be it, the straw that broke the camel's back.
Own the rage, Al. Own it! Own the rage... own the rage... own the rage...
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15:48: For fuck's sake, check this out, the hits keep coming.
I used to work with two other people. Judith went on holiday and was due back last Monday. Didn't show. Still not back. Ian is off for two weeks now too, so that's 10 days I've been running the department on my own - taking all the shit from the arsey clients etc. I phone my agency last week to book Monday off (otherwise not paid) and see how much holiday I have left. 12 days. Peach. So I've been looking forward to my 2 and a half weeks off all weekend. Think today, "Hmmm, wonder when I have to take them by?" I phone to check. Guess when? June... 2003. They're gone! Brilliant. No one told me the deadline was coming up, but they're gone. Cheers Cheryl, you fucking bitch, for your empathetic, "well, I know it seems unfair, but it's not our responsibility to keep track of it..." Go fuck yourself, and by the way, that tattoo on your fat arm is really, really ugly.
AND
I can't get on the internet as from this afternoon, need a password - it was the only thing that was keeping me sane. So, I talk to no one all day except wanker-clients and now I can't even get on the BBC website, let alone blogs or Friendster.
This could be it, the straw that broke the camel's back.
Own the rage, Al. Own it! Own the rage... own the rage... own the rage...
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