Saturday, September 20, 2008

So yesterday, I was massively pissed off. At everything and everyone.

It started out with my interview. And God knows how that went. For once in my life spent sitting quietly and not saying much at all, I didn't have enough time to say everything I wanted to say. I think that I made it obvious that I know where I work pretty bloody well, but if I did it from the right perspective, and used enough wankwords, I don't know.

I won't have to wait long, as they have already decided and will be announcing their decision on Monday or Tuesday.

The middle part of the day was hugely rushed for a Friday, and our Superfun Awesome Pizza Lunch turned into a massive hassle, and in the end I just put it all on my credit card and let everyone pay me whatever they wanted, because it was too big a pain in the arse.

And then came the team meeting, and I wanted to punch everyone in the face. As usual, I turned bright red (verging on purple) because talking to groups Isn't My Thing, and I understand that on a Friday afternoon everyone wants to just chill and starts slacking off, but if One. More. Person had started quietly chatting with the person next to them while I was talking, I would've bust some heads.

So, right, people suck, but I recognise that if I am going to be running meetings (three a fortnight, SPEW), I need to a) be more forgiving, b) not want to kill everyone quite so much c) stop turning purple every time I have to address a group.

This is assuming I get the job, I guess. But even if I don't, I'll be relieving in this job for a little while longer. And they're good skills to try and develop. I guess. Even if it is agonising.

The rest of the night was good, as Beardie met me at Southbank and we wandered around the huge art sale at the Convention Centre (like one of those discount sales where the guy on the ad says "bras, Bras, BRAAAAAASSS!!!" but they're dodgy paintings instead of bras), then stumbled upon the poshest school formal (apparently Brisbane Grammar is the new 90210, who knew?) and stood there watching them get out of limos and stretch hummers (yes, really) until I insisted we leave in fear of being politely escorted from the premises. We had dinner out and went home, and after a couple of hours I went to sleep, still thinking about work.

And I woke up thinking about work. I can only conclude that I thought about work all night, while I was asleep.

And I've been thinking about work for most of today. And it's Saturday.

This has turned into a work blog. I would like to apologise to myself for this.

Sorry, me.

4 comments:

phishez said...

Somebody pass the woman VODKA!

lucy said...

Pfft, we spend more time at work than we do sleeping so it's more than allowed to pop up here, my dear. Besides it makes me feel better to read about other people having retard work colleagues and prat bosses too.

guinness222 said...

You got it!!! And if for any dumb ass reason they don;t give it to you it's thier loss, come to work for me in Florida, I need a few "kick ass" folks! There are too many woooses in the world!
Mr. Guinness

RAT said...

Phishez, yes please! And if anyone has any sedatives lying around, I would be very grateful.

Lucy, together we will complain about working with twats, hoorah! I originally didn't want to go there in case this blog became not quite so anonymous, but bah, I can't be arsed. If I go down that path, I'll just delete the posts or something.

Mr. Guinness, woohoo! You be careful what you say, or I might just turn up in Florida expecting a job. And then you'll be obliged to give me one, due to your innocent comment promise.