I had an awful day at work yesterday of being bossed about by a perfectly odious little madam to the point where I wanted to burst into tears. I very nearly walked out but thought I had better stand my ground and rise above it. I resigned later. The final straw came when I found a report I had written late one night after a hard day's work hadn't even been read. I was very cross. When I got home tired and cross, well more purple with rage, I got a request to write another report. When exactly? I poured myself a lovely glass of wine and sat down to flick through a few really silly sports. There is something hilarious about weightlifting when they can't do it. Our divers boobed it, which is odd because it looked pretty spectacular to me.
I am trying to make Mr Smith understand that my job is pants and a waste of time and I am not going to do it any more but, let's face it, sympathy isn't his greatest attribute.
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