his place is starting
to look more and more like Dilbert’s world all the time.
Take, for example, the manager who speaks entirely in clichés.
When he tells someone to do something, he can’t resist adding, "Let’s rock
and roll!" I just heard him talking to someone about "flying the friendly
skies", and I think I nearly threw up.
Or the other manager who constantly eats. You can't schedule an appointment
with him anytime between 10 and 1:30, because if he hasn't eaten yet, he'll
be in a bad mood. He is constantly goading vendors into invite him out
to lunch.
I could go on, but it might get dangerous should any other employees
ever read this journal (not that that would happen, since I only get about
3 readers per month anyway).
I really thought I was going to explode this week (kind of like our
pipes did, I guess). I think the only thing that got me through it all
was realizing how utterly ridiculous it all was. I occasionally wondered
if Alan Funt was going to come out of our bathroom wall.
I have no clue what our next move is. We're looking at moving out of
our apartment, but it's hard to find anywhere that's close enough to work
for me to still be able to run home at lunchtime (yes, I know I'm spoiled).
Simultaneously, I'm still looking for a new job, though that search has
also slowed to a crawl. In the meantime, we hardly have time to eat dinner
anymore, let alone just sitting down and relaxing.
I had reached a point Wednesday where I absolutely couldn't take it
anymore. I don't know what I was going to do to fix things, but I couldn't
take it. I even said stupid things like "I wish I could just kill myself"
and other drivel like that.
But I can take it now. I'm not even sure what the difference is. They've
temporarily patched up the hole in the bathroom, but nothing else has been
fixed. But for some reason, I don't feel overwhelmed anymore, or hopeless,
or dejected.
But maybe that's just because today is Friday.
