The title of this post refers to the peculiar configuration of today’s date – the way we write it over here is day.month.year, i.e. 10.11.12. This snippet of useless sequential info was pointed out by my boss at work this morning. Still, the day was not insignificant; my favourite aunt celebrated her birthday today. We hope she had a good one.
At two, I must have left; there’s no exception to the rule - a matter of routine, I’ve done it ever since I finished school. On Saturdays. The shop closes at one but I still had to finish some critical jobs that there was no time for during the morning when I barely managed to get through the desperate, sadistic throngs at the counter. On top of that the boss appointed a new junior graphic designer cum counter person who I had to babysit and supervise. Thankfully she seems like a sharp one; we’ll just see how that progresses. Let’s assess her stamina and strength again after her first serious skirmish with the boss, shall we?
While on the subject, during a skirmish with the same on Friday I was informed in no uncertain terms that, if I was at all interested in receiving a bonus at the end of the year, I’d better start paying attention. Honestly, I feel like telling them to fold it until it’s all sharp corners and then to shove it. I literally worked myself into the ground for those people for twelve months, only to be threatened with no bonus when they shut down for the year.
Again, the phrase “emotional blackmail” seems appropriate. Hey, she labelled me first – apparently I'm “passive aggressive”.
Struggling through this spiteful variety of cess daily, I sustain myself by forcing my mind to recall exactly what it is that I am selling my time for:
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