Jan 05, 2009 17:33
My last work day week before the holidays was December 18th. It's a good thing the month ended that early for me as every day I found myself cursing outloud at the n-th follow up to original requests that had only been received a few working hours earlier. I don't usually indulge in profane language at work, but expletives were spewing over my cubicle walls and into the office air like a fire hydrant suddenly sheered off at the concrete.
Then I had 17 days away, during which there was enough time for Christmas shopping, enjoying Christmas with friends, having a big birthday dinner with most of my family and more friends, spending a couple of days with a dear friend who was able to hang in town for a bit, see in New Year's Eve with the gang, make a day trip to see Dad and family at their New Year's Day open house (good conversation, scrumptious food and great to see that Dad had gained a few pounds!), run bingo one night for chorus (the bingo hall is smokier than the waiting room to hell) and finally get laundry done and everything back on track for work. I was rested and mellow.
This morning I got to the office, got coffee, got logged in, and by lunch was cursing outloud again. G*d.D*mn.It.
It's time to bolt. No job is worth this frustration. Changing jobs in this environment may be easier said than done, but I've got to try, because if I don't my supervisor will probably enroll me in a stress management class.
No doubt the first exercise will require me to wash my mouth out.
dad