After my two whole days of not crying because of work, I'm ... well, I'm not on the verge. Though, I probably should be. I think maybe I'm preoccupied about something else, so I can't focus too much on the unbelievable shit going down at the office.
That other thing? Stuart Little is back. Okay, it's not THE Stuart Little. He met his untimely end in the basement four years ago. Nor is it the Stuart Little who decided my PC tower at my short-lived disaster recovery job would be his resting place (God, I can still smell that).
However, the loaf of bread with a corner missing tells me there is another Stuart Little. Just what I fucking needed. I didn't have a full-blown panic attack when I found that this morning, but I was sweaty and jittery. Between work and yoga, I obtained and set out new bait and got a couple of electrical things. Now I have one in every room! I blame this fucking weather (it got down into the 40s last night and like an idiot, I left my windows cracked). Also, I blame New Neighbor, because she just really seems to be doing all kinds of shit to make my life miserable. I'm sure she's somehow at least partially to blame.
So, with that HORRIBLE FUCKING NEWS weighing on my mind today, I went into the office and got a fuckton of work dumped on me this morning. I went to lunch with a friend (decadent!) and when I came back, I saw my trainings with the new employee for next week had been canceled. I wondered what the fuck was up with that, but I expected a new meeting invite to show up soon. Nothing appeared, so I asked my coworker who was also to do some training if he got something similar. He did. Another coworker said, "I bet she quit."
You know what? SHE FUCKING DID. Much later in the afternoon, Chicken Little called and in the course of a conversation about something else, relayed that information to me. I can't say I'm surprised. A few coworkers and I still in the office had a little gossip session about it. For some reason, I have no shame in telling people I cried almost every day during my training. I think it's the only way I can truly convey how horrible it was and how awful it made me feel. At the same time, Chicken Little had actual complaints about her work. I didn't work with her much, but I thought she was a pretty terrible writer (I'd been warned, but it was worse than I'd imagined).
It was probably a little from Column A and a little from Column B as to the reasons she quit. Still, as one of my coworkers pointed out, shit had to be pretty bad for her to have quit in this economy. I mean, it's not as bad as it was, but it still ain't good.
For whatever reason, I'm taking this pretty well. Probably because we're not really losing all that much. She was barely out of training and we were to be shadowing everything she did (like I have fucking time for that). Still, we're now even further behind in getting someone to help us. She was supposed to be coming up to speed and then we were supposed to be getting someone else.
I'm not going to dwell too much on it right now. I can't. I'm exhausted and I'm really just taking a break from work. My "holiday weekend" is going to feature a lot of work. I hope I get more brave so I can venture out into the rest of my apartment, instead of holing up in my bedroom away from Stuart Little.