On The Edge People, On The Edge

Lawd ya'll. The Asylum is really living up to it's name. I have GOT to find a new job before I end up in prison for going off on a sudden rampage, wielding a plastic spork at Bossman's bald little head while calling upon my mixed racial heritage and using it to work up a frenzied war cry which will be heard across all the acreage of Frog Pond Holler and probably mistaken for demonic possession, that which will make Linda Blair in "The Exorcist" look like Glenda the Good Witch.

The catty, backstabbing, he said / she said nonsense has reached levels that would put Bubbles and Louise to shame.

And it's the menfolk who are stirring it up. That would be the highly paid, manager menfolk to be exact.

Surely to God there has to be someone, somewhere, who would hire me to work from home, online and pay me enough to live on.

It wouldn't have to be much to be more than what I make now. I mean it, I don't think I can work in an office with other people for a while. Someone. Will. Die.

I've sent one resume so far. It would be SO PERFECT if I got that job. Full time, competitive salary, flexible hours and doing something that I pretty much already do anyway.

And no Bossman. Or being treated like an idiot by self absorbed, winky challenged customers who over compensate by trying to be the biggest hiney exit they can be. Over stuff MANAGEMENT did.

*Bangs head on desk*

Ya'll keep your fingers crossed for me, kay? Kay.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!