Quitting Time
I’ve got this job, see, and I’ve had it for about five years now. I work really long hours at varied, mostly menial, duties and for almost no pay. I think if I were going to be promoted, I would have been promoted by now so there goes that hope. My bosses are totally quixotic: sometimes gentle and full of praise, but more frequently they’re moody and critical and stubborn. They often find fault with my work and call me in the middle of the night to complain or to add another job to my list of things to do. They rarely respond well to my suggestions and I find myself answering the same questions over and over. They dislike me having “personal time” during the work day and will find things for me to do if I seem to take too long in the toilet or on the telephone.
Not a good situation, right? Shouldn’t put up with that, right? Time to quit, right?
Right. I’m off somewhere hot, sunny and sandy where eager, intelligent yet handsome men press cooling drinks into your hand and fan you with palm fronds while gently debating Foucault.
You have my job too?!? Damn, that sucks.
Where is this hot place? I’d like to work THERE.
ditto!
Good for you! But for God’s sake, leave the children with an adventure series in the DVD player, and give them a suggestion box.
And Foucault???? C’mon. Take it easy. At least discuss Thomas Aquinas. Something a bit lighter.
Have a fantastic time!