Some people wait all year for their birthday. Others wait all year for Christmas. I’ve been waiting all year to get fired.
It’s not a complete hell hole, the place where I work, but it definitely possesses elements of purgatory. Out of a staff of fifty, I’d say that forty of us are pretty decent folks, and about eighty percent of our clients are as well. It’s the other twenty percent who made me do what I did.
Your own office likely has its share of them – the people who are late with everything, or who rush things and muck it up, or who act like they have perpetual P.M.S., even if they are a guy. My heart goes out to you, it really does. So much so that if you were tell me you hid a rotted banana peel in the back of one of their desk drawers, I’d understand.
I’d also understand if you slowly but surely started tossing out the dirty dishes they left behind in the sink for someone else to wash. I’d also understand if you said. “Thank you! There’s nothing else I’d love to do more than update this website for the fifth time today!” And I’d understand if you stood up in the middle of a meeting and said, “I’ve had more intellectually stimulating conversations with my two-year-old nephew,” and then stormed off.
My bosses didn’t understand when I did those things, though. That’s why I’ve just been paged to join them in the boardroom. I’m pretty sure I’m about to be sacked. I’ll be nice about it, of course, and say things such as “You’re absolutely right, I shouldn’t have done those things,” and then sign the release papers right away. That’s because I’ve been here long enough to earn a year’s severance. I’m thinking Costa Rica will be a good place to spend it.
Anyway, Happy Birthday, or Merry Christmas, or whatever it is you’ve been waiting to celebrate. I’m off to celebrate my new freedom!