The mess that is called work

I started work at the firm on the last week of December, 2005. I’ve learned so many things since then, what you can and can’t do, what you shouldn’t do to piss off Michelle, and where all the lunch places are. Because I, Connie Allenbury, get lunch for the people in my group even if I didn’t order anything for myself. Which makes the motivation to go and get lunch non existent. But I go anyway, because I don’t want to lose this job. Two months ago, I would have agreed with that statement. Today, I don’t give a crap. I’m simply riding this wave out for as long as I can get another job where there is more of a possibility for movement upwards. If I can’t wrangle out an inside connection to another program that prompted me to work for this company in the first place, I am out.

Jenn, my partner in crime and fellow intern at work, and I have come to the conclusion of leaving at the end of summer. Whether we have new jobs or not. I might want to stick around to for the other program but I have a feeling it’s going to be useless, I’d simply be adding more stress for myself and have to deal with M’s attitude.

Because of our differing school schedules, Jenn and I don’t get to see each other that often; Fridays are usually when we get to talk. Two weeks ago, Roma took a day off from work so Jenn was able to sit with me in my corner and we got to talking about how much we hated Michelle, so she wasn’t the only one to feel this way. Actually, if you don’t hate her, something must be wrong with you.

We talked about our work escapades and how we got into trouble, mine being that my mistake was brought up at one of the meetings. So instead of talking to me privately about my mistake and how I can fix it for the next time, all my team members know about it. Jenn’s case was how she was taken aside and reprimanded for quickly reviewing something for school (more like looking at her cheat sheet) at work whilst waiting for M to assign work for her. Anyway, Jenn got around to talking about how her job at school requires her to work the recording machine and she somehow set it to play at fast forward speed. Horrifyingly, the machine played some girl’s voice at a high pitch, much like M’s voice on any given day. She shuddered and quickly got the machine to stop. But for one moment, I bet she was freaking out. Really, who wants to be reminded of bitchy co-workers when you’re not at work and you don’t have to see them?