Entries Tagged 'If I could just get the bank to give me back my money…' ↓

Bitch, I didn’t invite you into this conversation…

Grrrrrrrr, I am so fucking tired of people stepping in and trying to do my job, trying to tell me how things that I am responsible for are going to be done, and I think I’ll kick the next person who talks over me in a meeting right in the fucking head!

Again, why did they hire me?!

Well, let me tell ya (again). Because I know what the fuck I am doing! (Besides, why didn’t you get the job then, hmmm?) I’d like to show you that I know what I am doing, but you won’t let me. Oh well, maybe someday, I’ll finally get my big break.

Here’s more on my wishlist:

• Freedom to use my talent as necessary
• Authority to have control over my responsibilities
• Others to shut the fuck up and listen

Pretty simple, eh? (I need to be a creative director.)

Tell me I’m not the only one

I have stuff to do, lots of stuff to do, and it all hinges on getting the information I need to go forward. Why is it people make you wait? I hate it! I am far too efficient for this shit. If only I were given full access to the things needed, I’d have everything on a fast track to completion.

Don’t be a dick

Now let’s just imagine you drive cars for NASCAR. You’re expected to go forward. So why the hell are you in reverse?

It’s ok to lose some control, really. It’s called trust and if you can’t trust someone you work with, you shouldn’t be working with anyone.

My suggestion

Get a grip! If you can’t, get a new job. Maybe you could be a field researcher or work for the Secret Service. That stuff is highly confidential, but keeping your writer in the know isn’t.

Everything is comin’ our way

Well, I finally got paid for some freelance work I did over a month ago and I’ve written my rebuttal to give to HR regarding that good, old-fashion bashing someone tried to pass off as a review. I feel much better now with some help from mother’s little yellow pills (Joking really, don’t turn me in and I do not condone drug use. If I do, it doesn’t effect my work anyways. Is beer a drug?).

Now, if I could just get the bank to give me back my money…

Ha, wishful thinking. I would however like to be taken seriously. Is it that I’m a writer or a woman, that people don’t think I have a “real job”? Maybe it’s the “freelance” in freelance writer?

Well, you can come and go as you please, right? Aren’t you working from home yet? You don’t really need to go into the office, do you?

NO! YES! Grrr…

It’s called a “job”. J…O…B. This thing called “job” is somewhere you have to be daily. It’s called accountability people. So next time you want me to take the day off to go “tubin’ down the Truckee”, remember my paycheck pays the bills, and clean up that snot the little darling just wiped on the wall if your going to be home all day.

Then again, where’s the balance?

When do you get to stop and reap the rewards of what you have sewn? When I find out, I’ll let you know…

Three centuries later…

Hmmm… Still thinking.