I hate you.
In true new-broom style, the new regime is either micro-managing or simply avoiding doing anything remotely like managing. Singling out AND alienating, all in one. Genius.
I moved desk last week, AGAIN (the 5th move in a year), but only 2 rows over, and am due to do it again next week; I’m going for 3 in 3 (in any case, I’m getting ever closer to the car park – this could be my ‘out’, though it’s proving more difficult than the walls at Colditz).
The new regime has now made me Dept X’s bitch (replacing Miss y), but they had HR tell me via email – I then had a 30 minute handover from Miss y. It’s always a pleasure to be in close proximity to such a well-presented frontage, but 30mins to hand over a job of work for which she claims she was ‘rushed off her feet’?! Unlike her, perhaps, it just doesn’t stack up. Either she forgot a whole load of guff, and I’m in for a spit-roasting of the right royal variety, or she was really shit at her job. Contractors, eh!
I continue to apply for jobs that I know I can do, but that I also know that 400 other dweebs have also applied for (I suspect the fluffy shit about what I do now on my CV is letting me down – I may have to use the phrase “I will rok your wrld, mutha fukkas” on the front cover).
Perhaps on the lighter side of things, I sit 20 feet away from Paspartout, so I keep pulling faces and making inappropriate comments whenever I can (she pretends not to like the ass-grabs in the stair-well, but I know better!). Perhaps an HR Violation is the only way I’m ever going to get out of here.
In summary: I come to the office in the morning, I go home in the evening – pretty much everything in between disappears into an instantly forgettable fog.
I can’t remember if I said or not … I hate you.