I fucking quit.

The other day I read an article in Frankie. It was called "I Fucking Quit." Must admit, that's the stage I'm at with my job at the moment, as well. Although I can't quite remember what the article was about, the title certainly stuck with me!

This morning I woke up sick. I went to bed with a killer headache, a nauseated feeling in my stomach and was dead tired from working. I decided to try and sleep it off, but didn't manage to shake it by 11.30. So, bracing myself, I called in sick. Lo and behold, my favourite manager was on duty. I disrupted her perfect day, making her stay back a few extra minutes to try and find someone to cover for me. The only reason it would be difficult was due to the fact that she, and every other damned manager in this shit hole, had failed to hire new staff members.

She didn't take it well. And after she told me the other night that she didn't trust me, despite my hard working nature and my desire to actually be a valuable employee, this was just a little too far, too soon.

So now I'm going to fucking quit. I'm looking for a new job, one where I might be able to find an employer who will appreciate me and what I assume are skills valuable to the hospitality industry. But fuck her, and fuck all my other bullshit managers who I have to put up with currently! I show them respect, I work hard for my money, and they have the nerve to spit it back in my face.

What would they have me do? Put up with their insults? No, instead I'm going to put a little anarchy in my heart. Stick it to them until I get a job offer, which shouldn't be too long considering my level of experience (I suppose I can thank them for this, at least!).

What little rebellion I have can take form in my uniform and general appearance. I've painted my nails, I'm going to by a new nose ring tomorrow, as well as some patterned stockings, and when I rock up at work I'm going to be sans name tag with hair messy around my face. Seems a little silly, this minimal approach, but if that bitch of a manager is on it'll cause her to blow a gasket.

Fuck her. Maybe I'll even slack off and spend most of it flirting with customers in the Sports Bar, like my slutty, dumb co-worker who gets away with being a slack cunt. But that story's for another day.

plans

What I need to do:

Take the dog for a walk,
study Japanese for my speaking test,
find a new job which I won't hate as much,
plan a story,
start a new project,
do something fun today.

What I will end up doing:

Get a hair cut,
go out and get drunk,
pretend to study,
write a sentence of a story,
browse job selections,
poke the dog in the nose.