Wednesday, September 17, 2003

Closed Door

My supervisor came into my office yesterday and found me crying. "What's the matter?" she said, and you know, for about .00000000000001 of a second there, I actually considered saying something along the lines of, "I'm miserable. I live paycheck to paycheck doing I job I hate. I begin hating every single job I've ever had, really, approximately four months into it, and I don't understand why I can't just get with the program, but the only thing I've ever been good at, employment-wise, consists soley of sitting by myself before a computer screen and spinning sentences into existence. Will you pay me to do that? Will anyone ever pay me to do that? And if nobody does, what will I do?"

I told her it was PMS.

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