‘I should not under any circumstances deal with passive aggressiveness every time there’s an issue with my daughter… not a coincidence when something happens and the next day, another petty thing.’ I left the damn keys in the closet with my uniform shirts and left without a word. Few hours later she asked me when I’m returning from lunch. I didn’t respond.
My best attempt at still trying to be ‘professional’ and straight to the point before I walked away.
What I really meant? Haha, prepare yourself.
The review I read about having to be a “yes man” to work there is true. I’ve been biting my tongue and fighting my urge to fucking leave for six months now. I do my job so fast and well you’re busy looking for stupid shit because you’re bored. Cobwebs? A little dust in a corner? A tiny mark on the toilet seat? Really!? You know the only people that find those things are looking for it or OCD!
Anyway, your problem with me is I didn’t “Hello” or “Good morning” most of the time. Why the hell would I go out of my way to talk to you? I don’t give a shit if you’re my ‘supervisor’. It should be nice when I do it but not expected all the time. Then, well my daughter is sick. Not Covid. Not something I made up to call off of work. You had kids you should know how that is. It’s not like I called off to get out of working. If you didn’t believe me you could have requested a doctors note. Did you? No. Instead you’re all blah blah blah you’re ‘too fast’ and I want you to do more boring detail work.
‘And also the fire extinguishers…’ listen you dumb bitch I’ve told you months ago what was going on with them. And I’ve also been doing the same shit the past six months. Now it’s an issue because I called off for my daughter!? Really? REALLY!?!?!?!? Someone was on a power trip AGAIN because something didn’t go her way. And I’m permanently done being some fucking servant for slow boringass people.
It’s time to move on.
I don’t see the point in writing randomly like I have been. Besides a small audience and some likes, I don’t gain that much of it. None of you know who I am (though you’ve read about it), I get zero profit for it and little recognition. I went in knowing all this and not expecting anything in return. Now I have to think more about how I manage my free time, spend my money, and what other goals I have in life that don’t involve survival or money. I would like to sell some of my work and write the novel I told my mother I was going to write when she was nearly dying of cancer last year (she’s no longer in remission so it’s possible the nightmare will start over). It forces me to think about everything in my life. I go on the defense and survival mode (if you don’t know what that means don’t read this nor talk to me — I think you’re an idiot and don’t care if you think I’m a bitch).
What will become of this?
I could pay for it to be renewed but I’m not going too. I could give it a new name but I don’t want too. I could create a new one with a specific/tighter focus but I don’t have the time for it. This is not a good time for me to manage a website. Anything you would get from me in writing would be more nonsense or things you don’t follow or relate too.
I’m sorry but not so sorry that this isn’t a funny or positive post. The truth is, I’m just done. It’s nothing you or anyone did. I can’t stay with this website or blog forever. I’ve outgrown it. Thank you all for watching the madness.
Note: The first category on this website was called, “C’est la vie”
I could say hello but I’m not interested in small talk
seeing your number makes me want to vomit
seeing your face makes me want to bash it in a million pieces
I could explain why I stopped talking to you out of the blue
but I refuse to be interrogated for something I didn’t do
I could rant on and on about the things you said and did
that no other man, a stable respectful man would do
you want to say it’s part of your culture or religion
if that were true, you give your people a bad name
You don’t listen or take a clue
I told you numerous times
you and I would never work out
I don’t like high heels
I don’t want your hands around my neck
I don’t appreciate the comments about
you having a threesome with my younger sister and I
I would never convert to Islam
or make an effort to learn your language
you forced high heels on my feet like I was
Cinderella and you were Prince Charming
you choked me and slapped my face
you showed me a knife and made a joke
about taking my life
I saw less and less of you
you began to stalk my younger sister and
her friends on Facebook
I told you that was the last straw
I told you I didn’t like you as much as you liked me
you proceeded to ask me out
I walked away without answering your requests to see you again
or answering your question, “Do you have someone else?”
I responded, “None of your business.”