Frustrating moments? They’re like this:
Me: I’m here to follow up my re-contracting. Is it ready for signing?
Antipatiko: Give me your ID.
Me: Here’s the thing… I lost my ID.
Antipatiko: No ID Badge, no service.
Me: But I need to sign my contract so I can get a new ID!
Antipatiko: How am I supposed to check without your badge?
Me: *rollseyes* I still have a name. You can check the system.
Antipatiko: I cannot check without your badge.
* Antipatiko = he-bitch
We went around and around until my ears grew hot with frustration and I called J to help me. And while we were talking, Antipatiko kept kept up a noisy dialogue with some friend of his while I fought for space in front of the dividing glass. Next time, I’m growing my nails so I could scratch his scrawny neck through the speaking holes.
I wouldn’t have bothered, but my salary has been held for two months and if I don’t get it soon I’ll put up http://www.pimps-r-us.com and sell my friends’ virtues online (per hour) while I pocket a handsome commission. Don’t worry, my dears, I’ll choose your most flattering photos for the website.
I seriously have to watch what I’m eating. I’ve been eating lunch and dinner twice, respectively, for the past few days and if I keep this up even my Duorest chair might not be able to take the pressure.
I was so motivated yesterday after my gym workout but I completely lost it after being faced with temptation: GRILLED FOOD. It’s Elaine’s fault! Jovett and I have just finished dinner when she called and said: “Pass by my house later. We’re serving ribs and fish. Grilled.”
And that explains the second big dinner.
Food has to be clean, so imagine my horror when I went to the Neuro kitchen to warm up my chocolate croissant… the inside of the microwave was completely covered with multi-colored speckles of dubious origin and it was silently crying out for a thorough scraping. So that’s what I did: immersed everything in Jif and tortured the surfaces with the less merciful side of a sponge. The said speckles clung stubbornly and I had to spend 15 minutes scrubbing and swearing at everyone who nuked the 130 types of curry that might have caused the dazzling display of hard orange spots to appear.
Being me, I left a sign that said “Please clean after use”, clearly implying that I would flay and quarter anyone who even touches the now-spotless microwave.
I have to include this in my next evaluation and demand a raise.