08 October 2012

I shall keep my headaches to myself.

At some point this weekend I was telling The Boy I Currently Like about some shit that went down at the office earlier in the week. I just wanted a sympathetic ear, but I got an earful in return.

I get it -- I'm in a terrible situation. And I guess I have no one to blame but myself? I know there are other people not working as hard as me, but they aren't my two closest colleagues (also, it's because there's no work for them to do ... something that needs to be addressed, of course). Sure, my billable is slightly higher than theirs, but I know the one that's actually my immediate supervisor has more total hours than I do.

Oh, but he's your boss. He took that promotion, so he has to deal with what comes with it, says The Boy. Except he didn't accept anything. It was just a title change, with no additional money -- just the additional responsibility of administrative work with no cut in his billable time requirement. And it was thrust upon him with no warning or discussion.

So, I shouldn't be working nights or weekends. I don't know what my options are here. I'd like to take that time and look for a new job (The Boy said every time I consider working on a night or weekend I should look for a new job, instead). But I don't want to slack off when my coworkers are working nights and weekends to keep up with our workload. I don't think falling terribly far behind and angering our clients and maybe getting fired is a good way to approach this. I can't fucking quit.

I guess I'll just shut the fuck up about it.

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