I always have this urge to go back to bed instead of going to work. Who wouldn’t? Especially on a Friday. Why on earth did I even agree to this farce? They say having a regular job is 10% hard work and 90% commitment. Commitment my ass.
I’m sacrificing my eyes for people who put me down on every word I say. I’m just there to help and I’m the bad guy. Geez…If only I can find an alternative decent work which doesn’t require to shout once a week and get your blood pressure to rise like a volcano about to erupt. I know this is not the way to live. It’s supposed to be “If I can do better than this, I would…” Reality check: no job would still pay me this much.
Money is not my priority but somehow it’s a heavy part of the equation. Getting a degree and graduating should’ve been the hard part; my parents didn’t warn me about sticking to a job that makes you sick. I love my job sometimes when I get calls that require me to think and give out my own opinion for a change. Well, that’s me…Miss Opinionated. Most of the time it’s the memorized scripts that almost make me believe I’m not human. “I’m a robot, PEOPLE…treat me like one; don’t waste your saliva complaining over my stupid reasons. I’m paid to read every line!”
I’m tired of starving myself to death and then there’s the big surprise:they’re close on Sundays or they don’t have an edible meal during weekends. Some kinda BS.
Anyway, no matter how many bad words I can come up with it wouldn’t change. For the sake of the so-called dedication and commitment, fine I’ll go to work.
**tequila@urservice**
I’m sacrificing my eyes for people who put me down on every word I say. I’m just there to help and I’m the bad guy. Geez…If only I can find an alternative decent work which doesn’t require to shout once a week and get your blood pressure to rise like a volcano about to erupt. I know this is not the way to live. It’s supposed to be “If I can do better than this, I would…” Reality check: no job would still pay me this much.
Money is not my priority but somehow it’s a heavy part of the equation. Getting a degree and graduating should’ve been the hard part; my parents didn’t warn me about sticking to a job that makes you sick. I love my job sometimes when I get calls that require me to think and give out my own opinion for a change. Well, that’s me…Miss Opinionated. Most of the time it’s the memorized scripts that almost make me believe I’m not human. “I’m a robot, PEOPLE…treat me like one; don’t waste your saliva complaining over my stupid reasons. I’m paid to read every line!”
I’m tired of starving myself to death and then there’s the big surprise:they’re close on Sundays or they don’t have an edible meal during weekends. Some kinda BS.
Anyway, no matter how many bad words I can come up with it wouldn’t change. For the sake of the so-called dedication and commitment, fine I’ll go to work.
**tequila@urservice**
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