Imagining the journal entry of the Facebook poster who wants you to believe they love their job.

Open Blank Notebook with Ballpoint Pen on Top

This post is a sequel to the previous one. I can’t force you to do anything, but I can tell you that I will plant a tree and muss a child’s hair if you read that first. And yeah, I just provided two links to the same thing. Such is the extent of my helpfulness. You’re welcome.


Jesus, what a day.

This morning, had to break into a half-jog because Greg from Accounts held the door for an awkwardly considerate distance. (Seriously, Greg?? Do I really look like I’m not capable of opening a door for myself?) Then my god-forsaken computer needed ANOTHER software update, which of course meant that that lunatic Joanne felt like she had carte blanche to talk my ear off. And always about the most insane stuff! Really, Joanne?! Do I REALLY need to hear about your husband’s gassiness? Who raised you??

Our daily team huddle was a fucking disaster, as usual. Kevin made a repulsive off-color remark about a marginalized segment of society that I can’t even bear to repeat in writing. Everyone laughed because apparently if the butt of the joke is not represented among our department, anything goes. Ugh.

At lunch, John the Cafeteria Line Cook remembered my name and asked if I wanted “the usual”. Hey John – next time, can you do me a solid and pretend that I’m not down there ordering the same damn thing every day? The last thing I need is more reminders that my childhood dreams have been shattered in an infinite loop of tedium.

This afternoon, Megan and Phil dropped by and invited me to join them on their coffee run. I’ve blown them off like three days in a row and they somehow haven’t gotten the message yet, so I joined them because the awkwardness was killing my soul. On the way to Starbucks, a homeless guy asked for change. I gave him a quarter and used it as an opportunity to make a wish that Phil and Megan would stop talking about whatever insipid reality show they were heatedly recapping (I had tuned them out).

Then, as if the day couldn’t get any better, my 3PM meeting with our department leader was unimaginably frustrating. I got to sit there and listen to my boss take credit for my work while the VP nodded distractedly between glances at his phone. Supposedly the Leadership Team is going to discuss my recommendation (which they will think is my boss’s) next quarter. I’ll believe it when I see it.

And as I was leaving for the day, that mouth-breather Steve insisted that we practise the “secret handshake” that he’s been harassing me about for weeks. I should never have humored him in the first place, but I felt bad about the fact that he ended up being his own Secret Santa last year and caved in a moment of weakness. What a mistake. Cynthia and Ricky watched today’s humiliating debacle take place. I couldn’t stand to make eye contact with them.

Lord help me if tomorrow is another day like today.

…but at least I got 23 Facebook likes out of it.


4 thoughts on “Imagining the journal entry of the Facebook poster who wants you to believe they love their job.

  1. Oh my gosh, I laughed out loud (on the inside)! These 2 people are me (1) Night shift worker and (2) Day shift worker. That’s right…….I should not be allowed to work days.

    Liked by 1 person

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