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an inez design.
Copyright 2002-2015

Lose Myself

2005-01-14 @ 1:40 p.m.

Um, I Think You Have My Stapler...

Alright, so I'm officially beginning to lose it. I'm not sure how it became official. OH WAIT I DO. Some "official" looking guy walked in for a meeting (I think he was wearing a tie or something), took a look at me sulking in my chair and said "hey are you ok? Looks like you're about to lose it". I quickly wrote down what he said and made him sign it. So yeah, I feel justified in my assessment of my 'official-it-losing' prediciment.

It's unreal how fast time goes by when you do the same thing day after day, after monotonous day. I have come to despise the telephone. And not just my work phone. Phones in general. Even my cell phone. Even other people's cell phones. I go into a store or a movie theater and someone's cell phone rings and I fantasize about chucking it against the wall. I hate the sound of a phone ringing. I even hate Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the telephone. I hate Graham crackers, Taco Bell, and anyone named Alexander. The fact that I live in ALEXANDRIA bothers me...

Every time the phone rings at work I cuss to myself. I never used take the Lord's name in vain, but now I find myself doing it when the phone rings. To give you some perspective; in the time that it took for me to write this so far, the phone has rang 6 times. That might not seem like a lot to you, but multiply that times 8 hours, and you can see what I'm talking about.
When I started this position back in March I gave myself a few goals and deadlines. Well, actually just one. I wanted to be promoted to Assistant Editor by my birthday. (Which I'm sure you know by now is next Wednesday). Being that today is Friday and I have yet to sign any papers, discuss any salaries or meticulously design unnecessary business cards, I don't see that happening any time soon.
I have been told they will be hiring me eventually...they just haven't given me any sort of time table. So I just come to work every day and pretend to be this person that I'm not. I guess I'm doing a good job because they said that when I do move on they will miss me, and will have a hard time replacing me. I don't really understand how, being that I am probably as far opposite of being your typical morning-person receptionist as one can get, but I guess I fake it well.

I know there are worse jobs. I know I shouldn't complain. But it's my diary and I'll cry foul if I want to.

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