What’s up with that?
Now that I’ve a contract I shouldn’t have to do time in the reception! I cling on to the Receptionists’ Manifesto like a beaver to trees, but it doesn’t help. I’ve got tons of work waiting on me, several social researchers trying to convinve me that just their assignment is the highest priority every instant, while the chances of me having some time-off the next twenty hours drops like a dog’s bollicks after castration.
Damn I’m pissed.
I could’ve eaten a pencil right now. Just to show’em.
*Sigg3 calms down
Gotto watch my blood pressure. I’m not even twenty-one yet and I’m probably going for the complete heart-attack and ulcer combination before I reach twenty-two. And people come in here, getting some coffe or some of that chocolate espresso, smiling at me like I was some kind of freakshow.. which I probably am at the moment. High on caffeine and low on esteem. And down right pissed off. I’ve got to see my boss sometime soon. Haven’t sorted out this kind of mishaps yet, so it’ll probably go on until I either get fired or I die from stress.
I am not a civil worker any longer, my friend. (Despite my unupdated staff-page)