I see myself lowering into a bucket of despair and hopelessness. And other times I want the world to bring it, in the worst way, so I can strike out against it. and be justified in my frenzy of lashing.

I am constipated creatively, stuck, productionless. I don’t feel like doing anything; I am numb. Everything is a hazy kind of fog, deadened. Because I hate my job.

I know, everybody hates their job. But few of you go home and cry because of it.

I have found out interesting things about my supervisors recently, gleaned them through words not said and thoughts expressed in snide good-ol-boy bullshit cackling. They don’t even know how sexist they are, how dead their eyes are when they look at a woman and see nothing but a whiny incompetent girl, rather than a person who could be competent given half the chance.

It is a given, in my mind, that if you expect results, you will get results, and that if you expect failure, you ensure failure. This company’s sick mentality is that women are failures at everything they do except maybe table-dance or cook or answer phones. Menial tasks are for women, men ride the wave of Privilege and Benefit of the Doubt simply because they have a tassel between their legs.

I know I am a better person, more honorable and honest and empathetic and kind than anyone else working here, but I also know that I may not be working here that long because those values, which I have fought to uphold my entire life, are degraded and denigrated, unvalued, and swept under the rug. I have not been asked to do anything illegal, yet, but I have witnessed many an attempt to undermine an employee simply for the sake of removing her from the company, and as more and more crap piles on my desk, I become aware that I am next. I hate my work, I hate my supervisors, and it burns me every day that my actions at work help support a misogynist asshole’s bottom line. It supports me, as well, but is it worth it?

I am next in their line of sight, not next to be fired. Because if I quit, they are “in the right”. They owe me nothing, and I get no unemployment benefits. I am miserable here, they don’t appreciate me, and I am not using any valid skills except “Yes Sir, and when can I come down?”

My supervisor was fired last week. His replacement is a cock. I report to the owner of the company rather than to any interior manager (see: ant reporting to elephant on the state of the anthill), and the owner is never here, and since all ill feeling in this company is spawned at his behest, I am better off that way. But that means that any shit project boring-ass waste of time that gets concocted ends up in my lap. A project I will labor over for an hour ends up being glanced at and tossed.

Even after work I am obsessed with this hellhole. And with such a wretched economy, I can’t see it getting any better any time soon.

I told God I would take any job that came my way and be grateful. I lied. Well, no I didn’t lie. I was duped into being more specific when I ask for grace. Be very very specific.

I never felt deep inside the evil of misogyny. I never thought that sexism would ever come slap me in the face the way it does here. I never imagined that the world could have so many petty bigots in one location, either, but hey. Stay on topic. Now I truly understand being judged for being something I cannot change, and having doors shut to me because of my genetics. It’s horrid. And I just deal with it here. Imagine if it was in every area of my life. Shit. I know why black people say whites just don’t understand. We don’t. And having a taste of it makes me want to back away and out of this bullshit. Into a different life. My own life, away from here.

I want to own my life again, feel confident, love my work and be proud of what I produce instead of thinking everything will be shit that comes out of my computer. Shit in, shit out, that’s what they say around here. And if that bastard ever says to me again that I am “too fucking smart, that’s [his] problem with [me]” I will have to say something, and it may not be pretty. And, if he lays a finger on me, which I can see burning in his addled eyes when he yells at me, I will sue him for all this company’s going to be worth in the next millennium. He can depend on that.