My niceness has an expiration date. Or expiration time. Minute. Second.

I TRY to be nice at work because it makes things smoother but the moment you notice me stressing out, with bad hair and blood-shot eyes, staring at a paper-strewn desk… then PLEASE do NOT under any circumstances ask me to do anything STAT.

If you get yelled at then you were probably asking for it. At the same time, I’m good at making you feel very guilty about being such a clueless, insensitive ass who likes to torture overworked little girls.

As for those who think they’re being nice and civil by asking me in a sweet way, stuff it. It won’t work. I’ll just as sweetly file your matter at the bottom of my mental to-do list, and I will keep on doing that while I’m persistently being bothered.


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