If assholes could fly, this place would be an airport.

I always wish I could be anywhere else during the day except my desk at work in the echoey little office. So my mind drifts to the cool idea of having my own place. To know where everything is, to know that I can walk around naked, leave kitty toys anywhere, take out my books and thing-things…I miss that. But my job…

Every day, as the owner of the business stalks angrily down the hall (debt’ll do that to ya) I cringe at my desk (metal, unlike everyone else’s rosewood desks) and hope that he doesn’t shoot another insult, jab, or impossible request my way. I hate myself knowing that I am not “man” enough to just stand up and say “I’m not taking it anymore!!!” but just hiding and waiting, hoping to escape his censure. The office, new and shiny, but underfurnished and likely to stay that way, is cavernous, and feng-shui-wise I am certain that it is a losing endeavor. It is long, with the owner’s office far down the hall, the walk of shame for those unlucky enough to be summoned to it. I try to forget about it every night, the irritation, the humiliation of those words thrown down. He belittles my professional experience, which, honestly doesn’t matter in his company (and makes me wonder why he hired me in the first place, actually) but the constant sarcasm, temper-firings, and high turnover rate makes me want to find another job. One where I am appreciated and paid for it. Sounds great, huh? Don’t we all wish.

Rant:

I am not in a sweatshop, I am not unpaid, I am not telemarketing again, I am not walking the streets, or waiting tables (the half-sister of prostitution) and finally in my life I may be able to pay for my stuff on my own, maybe even move out. Damn. I was hired on as a data-entry clerk, but I am also being asked to maintain their website, which I was coerced into creating. I was not hired as a web designer, and if I were, the salary they are paying me would have been laughable. So they got my services for free, basically, as I was completing my other job duties during work and instead of checking my email I was working on their damn webpage. Do I quit and risk the insurance, the tooth-fixing, the move-out, the someday-pay-off-all-of-these-debts freedom of being an adult? I am approaching 30 years of age and I am back at home. I could try to look for another job, but I am not willing to be jobless. I am also not willing to hurt everyday.

I guess I just have to man-up and hope for the best. Even though everybody is quitting all around me and it looks like it’ll just be me, upper management, and the receptionist holding up the ship. Fucking hate that.