Strange, strange days.
I work in a lunatic asylum-today I discovered a coworker stapled through my name 17 times-on 17 different reports that he knew I would be handling. It scared the hell out of me-someone comfortable enough to staple through a co worker's name 17 times is scary.
I come home from work every afternoon this week to work at finding out if my best friend since seventh grade is burned out yet-she, her daughter, grandson, and son-in-law are sharing her Irvine California home. I have been simultaneously glued to the tube and Internet since Sunday night.
I feel like a modern day Jeremiah. My life has become a routine of trying to keep my mouth shut as all around me act as though they have declared war on the reasonable; I come home after work and try very very hard to avoid my fellow man after spending the day at work avoiding the loonies.
Probably not a good idea. I Googled 'scary coworker' and found that some of my own preferences mark me as a potential instigator of workplace violence. Yikes, and not something I would actually do. My total contribution to 'workplace violence' consists of leaving the room if I feel my mouth control slipping.
I avoid my co workers as though they carry plague-self preservation, to me, does not include an astounding willingness to take the most innocent remark and spin it into a whirlwind.
And of course, without fail, if I seem to have friends, Blondie is suddenly short with me and the next thing I know co workers who twenty minutes earlier were smiling at me are now scurrying past my desk eyes averted.
Hmmm, this behaviour also seems to coincide with Blondie having just been in conversation with them...
Of course that suits Blondie. She actively works to isolate me from co workers and is rather good at subtly indicating her displeasure if anyone compliments my work, which she works at undermining and reducing.
Just now I think she is in a snit because I work well with others and they don't hesitate to tell our mutual boss.
She is of course Mr. Staple Happy's biggest champion.
Of course I (after a heck of a lot of digging and some calling in of markers from friends still in the biz) found out I should take several precautions because yeah, Mr. Staple Happy is showing signs of being a dangerous nut job, a guy I should be very careful around.
I was right, it is highly disturbing that he found a way to precisely staple through my name at the very nearly exact spot on 17 of 31 reports, and I need to be very careful.
I am completely sick of the lunacy.
At least two of the fires out west were deliberately started.
Both my children hate me because I refuse to give up on God and clean living.
I'm watching my back against a twisted co-worker.
And Blondie, always Blondie, poor thing. She'd be funny if she weren't so blasted stupid and ruthless-I hate that combination. It's a combination I know too well.
I think at bottom, what I am really tired of is giving up, leaving then finding out six months or a year later that I was right; oops, "Hey Fox's Mom, you sure called that one." Wouldn't it be lovely if I could be proved right while still a part of the: group, workplace, family?
Swell day in a long line of swell days-hey God, since I missed it, could you show me where I signed up to be an anachronism? But I didn't really miss it, I signed up for this, I guess, and if I had to do it all again for the most part I would do the same things...my kids are in a bad place, I will keep praying for them; Blondie is scared and having health issue, I will keep praying for her; Mr Staple Happy needs a swift and sure attitude adjustment, I'll keep praying for him, too.
Day capper? The main compartment of my fridge is 58 degrees. The property manager promised a week ago to have the repairman out.
I am so sick of take-away!