"and that's... okay"
Lest my readers think I am unhappy at my job, or worse, work with a complete bunch of idiots... I really do like my job. And only some of them are idiots.
The rest of them think I'm pretty fabulous. I know, it surprised me too.
I don't want to jinx anything, but I must be doing something right. Beyond "User friendly" and "Funny as hell", my reviews have been astonishingly positive - something I'm not used to.
I really have no reason to complain, and yet I do. Other than the fact that I have this strong desire to jab someone with a sharp pointy projectile, I'm doing good. Blah, blah blah, something about eggs in a basket, blah blah. I don't have a lot to work with, so I cherish what I get.
So, just kwicherbitching already, you might say. I can't! Its what I do. (And quite well, I might add). Thing is, I can't come home and complain to The Boy. The Hubster is pretty tired of it as well. I figure, if anyone would understand, it would be the people inside my computer. I know you "get it", and can put up with the whining and torment. When it gets to be too much, you can just change the channel. These people IRL don't have that luxury. Which is one reason I haven't desired to share my woes with the coworkers up until this point. I don't want to be poor pitiful Julie with an unstable psyche. I want to be Wonder Woman! Or a Solid Gold Dancer. With Farrah Fawcet hair.
Meh. Anyway.
"Because I'm good enough, and I'm smart enough, and doggone it - people like me!"
The rest of them think I'm pretty fabulous. I know, it surprised me too.
I don't want to jinx anything, but I must be doing something right. Beyond "User friendly" and "Funny as hell", my reviews have been astonishingly positive - something I'm not used to.
I really have no reason to complain, and yet I do. Other than the fact that I have this strong desire to jab someone with a sharp pointy projectile, I'm doing good. Blah, blah blah, something about eggs in a basket, blah blah. I don't have a lot to work with, so I cherish what I get.
So, just kwicherbitching already, you might say. I can't! Its what I do. (And quite well, I might add). Thing is, I can't come home and complain to The Boy. The Hubster is pretty tired of it as well. I figure, if anyone would understand, it would be the people inside my computer. I know you "get it", and can put up with the whining and torment. When it gets to be too much, you can just change the channel. These people IRL don't have that luxury. Which is one reason I haven't desired to share my woes with the coworkers up until this point. I don't want to be poor pitiful Julie with an unstable psyche. I want to be Wonder Woman! Or a Solid Gold Dancer. With Farrah Fawcet hair.
Meh. Anyway.
"Because I'm good enough, and I'm smart enough, and doggone it - people like me!"
posted by Julie at 9:00 PM
6 Comments:
I always wanted to be Kelly on Charlie's Angels. :o)
I say go for it -- start feathering your hair! It's great that you have one arena in your life where your fabulousness can shine through unimpeded by your personal struggles. You know you can always kwetch to us, that's what we're here for...
there's not much that white knee boots won't make better. i always say.
I say keep spilling about the co-workers here. It'll get it out of your system, and I can say that i won't get tired of hearing about it. You've seen I've got some doozies for co-workers.
You should take a pic posed in the doorway with your gun ready...
Not only do people like you (I like you!), you've got to have way better hair than Stewart.
Just because you like your job, or even if you love it, that doesn't mean you will never have to deal with people's insensitivities. The gal who recently got pregnant and got mad because I can't be happy for her? If I had a nickle everytime she complained about being 8 weeks pregnant, I'd be able to pay for another IVF already. But if I tell her to shut the fuck up, I think she may be more offended than usual...
This post made me smile. :-)
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