A two-week build up in the office, just dun popped it’s lid today. I thought it was all just about last week’s blood moon weirdness, but this week proves that, no…people are just giant dicks.
…As if I need reminding. I work with them every day.
Silly me, I just assumed the build up was a bubble of assholeism hailing from the full-moon crazies that I’ve come to expect when one happens. Never mind happening across several days’ time. But this week (and it’s only Tuesday) is trying to “win” last week in outbursts, inarticulate screamings, threats, order errors, miscodings, useless communication attempts, and physically impossible requirements being thrown at us…and that is only from Corporate. Lets not even begin on how many pissy, high-maintenance, self-entitled, elitist asshole customers (insisting they are our only customer and the exception to every rule) also added to the already overwhelming mix.
…Which would be considerably less intense if say other people were in the damn office helping. But The WHS Pimp is on site visits and product runs, and The Gnome is out at least once per day at prenatal appointments already racked into the dozens this month for inexplicable amounts of time at any given part of the day.
…So it’s just me.
Dealing with all this rainstorm of shit, while the orders are flooding in…reallocating schedules, correcting customer service fuck ups, talking down asshole screamers for a myriad of apparent reasons, booking jobs, running reports, getting payroll in, babysitting the grown men who work for us, conducting road show reminders and Canadian product shipments, prepping for our Alaska project, placing ads, and trying to hire more builders.
…This shit is INSANE.
I am mentally exhausted and it isn’t even May yet.
…Right now, I am NOT doing the slotted callbacks on my roster…just so I can just fucking breathe here…at my desk…for fifteen-consecutive-minutes, and blow this shit out on my tablet.
Just get it out!
Out!
Out!
…Before I work myself up so high, I bash my fist into the sidewall of that bank of filing cabinets over there.
I’m pretty sure my fist will survive just fine…but it took me three years to replace the hand-me-down bastards I inherited from the last Boss, with only two working drawers per piece…and frankly I just don’t want to have to deal with that again.
…It’d be “just another fucking thing.”
…And I’ve obviously got plenty to deal with as it is.
(giant intake of breath…knuckle crack, knuckle crack…neck swivel til it pops)
Okay.
Back to the pit.
“Fuck you, Tuesday…!!!!!! FUUUCK YOOOOOOU!!!”
…Right. I’m going back in…
~D
