Just... Whatever

The week, oh it has been a-shitty. But the house is clean. Unfortunately, no one is interested in it. Whatever. We haven't had it listed one full week yet, and already I'm in a sour mood about the whole thing. I'm sure the fact that I will be starting my period anytime soon (thanks to the wonderful medicine that is Provera! Can we say yay! for medically induced menses?) doesn't have anything to do with my attitude. Or the upset stomach, perpetual feeling of gas (and the non-passing of the gas, because, yo - I'm at work.), bloating and overall feeling of crappiness have nothing to do with it. Marc has already let me know that 'I am to remain optimistic because otherwise his pessimism will take over!' I am to "KNOW MY ROLE". I love the saying 'Know your role' - it cracks me up. Even more so when I add bitch after it. 'Know your role, bitch'. So degrading to whomever it is spoken to.

And the job. The fucking Tool I work for makes me want to slit my wrists. Today. Today! for instance. I had to write pretty much the entire two page newsletter yesterday (which, by the way, I am not the "writer". He is. We have one on contract. So, me writing the newsletter? I kinda wonder if that's the best idea. But as I constantly feel here, my opinion is not valued, and it doesn't matter what I say. Tool fucker rules. If only The Tool would tell me what he wants.) Was at work until 6:45. After my boss had left. (He works whenever he feels like it - 9-6 mostly, and I know he works overtime a lot... its just hard because he makes me feel like I can't do the same thing (make my own hours). Like when I leave before five because I got to work before 8? I feel guilty. And he makes it sound like he's keeping count of every go-home-"early" which makes me think he doesn't think I'm a team player willing to sacrifice - which I am! ERGHH.

hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate


does not even begin to describe.) Got to work this morning, before him. And come to find out? The article I wrote based off of a power point presentation he gave me, he has decided to re-write. How about some direction before I waste my time? Fucking Tool. And then changed the layout of something I did because he missed it. Of course, this is the same guy who makes me "meet" with him, for long, very boring periods of time because he doesn't feel caught up on what I'm doing and then proceeds to take and make phone calls throughout the entire"meeting" and make notes of previous meetings while I'm talking. Seriously. FUCKING TOOL. I hate. And it doesn't make it better that he was put between me and my old boss (ie, the person who hired me, who I knew from before this) to be my manager so he could be a manager. The Tool had to have someone to manage. I'm that poor slop. And he sucks at it. And now, my "friend" boss? She doesn't talk to me. At all. In a three person department, anything she has for me she tells him. And sometimes he forgets to tell me. But I don't know about it because I don't hear it from her. I feel like she manages me through him, because that's the "proper chain of command". FUCK. And I feel left out of things! They have meetings, without me, and then I have to hear it from him. What The FUCK? Seriously. This is how it goes. The aforementioned newsletter, for instance? I didn't find out it was being changed from a weekly to a monthly until a day after she told him. The Tool told me in a one sentence email. Now, I spend a good deal of time working on this and actually like doing it. Oh well! I was obviously not important enough to be told about it in full detail or anything.
And now, I pretty much hate the job I loved so much. And I can't exactly go looking for another job yet; I've been here less than a year. (Well, about a year). So I'll come across looking bad on my resume and to prospective employers. GREAT... And I pretty much have no love for my friend/boss. Because she allows and even feeds into this environment. So what do I do? I feel so stuck in misery. Absolute misery. If I could afford to quit, I so would.
So now I'm the bitter, complainy bitchy person. I need to get pregnant, play this thing out and then find another job. Dear god, I hope it happens fast.