Just Get Me Out Of Here

E-mail this post

Remember me (?)

All personal information that you provide here will be governed by the Privacy Policy of Blogger.com. More...

It's been a long day. I am closing in on twelve hours. I am ready to go home.

The whole day has dragged by miserably. Since Monday, I have felt incredibly overwhelmed and underinformed. I want to scream and cry. Actually, come to think of it, last night, at the very thought of going to work, I sprouted tears. Not a good sign.

Lack of sleep and abundance of caffeine give me that nervously irritable edge. If that weren't bad enough, every single person seems to feel the need to anger me in such a way that every other word I think to say is an expletive.

Sample conversation in my head:

Salesperson: (whiny voice) "But I don't have to finish filling out the paperwork until YOU are finished."

Me: (snarling) "No, motherfucker, if you did your Goddamned job correctly in the first place, I would be able to do MY fucking job so you could shut your Goddamned pie hole and I would never have to listen to you spew shit again. UNFORTUNATELY, YOU DIDN'T. WHICH IS WHY I AM SHOVING THIS ENTIRE REAM OF PAPERWORK UP YOUR LAZY ASS."

My actual response is a little closer to: "Leave. It. On. My. Desk. Leave now."

Besides that, my computer has been malfunctioning all day, I am ravenously hungry and I want to leave more than anything in the world. I am supposed to leave in seven minutes. But, guess what? There is one last sale for me to close.

I'll close it. The customers will love me. I will charm them and smile. They will think I am the most darling lovable thing since--kittens.

As long as their not psychic.

0 Responses to “Just Get Me Out Of Here”

Leave a Reply

      Convert to boldConvert to italicConvert to link


This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


ATOM 0.3