The past four months I've spent my waking hours in a grocery store, an over-lit yellow and green one on the wrong side of town. Let me tell you, the people that walk across my sight line 8 hours a day are more than a little interesting. The word interesting is open to interpretation here. To give you a glimpse of my daily horror show, a large woman once walked by that had no clothing waist down, only t-shirt just barely long enough. As she walked away I saw definite cheekage. Yes. It was that bad.
Then there are my coworkers, each owning a little crazy of their own. Oddly enough, the craziest off-kilter stress-case is my favorite coworker. I love her drama for some reason. I don't know why. She's entertaining.
But I'm afraid my entertaining, well-paying job, has a shelf-life. Office politics and mismanagement are tiring to be around 40 hours a week. I had a nice chat with my insurance agent (auto and home) after hours this evening cell phone to cell phone. He said I'm hard to get ahold of and asked if I hired myself out as an indentured servant. Sometimes it really feels like it. Those 40 hours of crazy a week take another 40 just to recoup from.
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