Loosly translated, I think that means my ass is on the line. Fuckers.
- My new supervisor loves me, and I genuinely like her.
- She knows EVERYTHING. Working for her will be the best education into the window business I could get, ever, anywhere.
- My new job will not be stressful, and will leave me plenty of time for office gossip and tea breaks.
- My new supervisor will not care how much I fuck around, because she spends half her day outside on a smoke break.
- I can wear all the pencil skirts and icepick heels I want.
- In the past, my new supervisor has bought me lunch, so long as I bring something back for her. She has a weakness for pickles from a certain deli nearby; information I continually use to my advantage.
- Because of above, I know her banking PIN.
- She knows ALLLLLLLLL LL L LLL the dirty little company secrets!
- There is nowhere to go but up.
- I don't gotta work with the Sperm Donor. Though technically I'm the assistant to the executive assistant to the SD's boss. I'll have to find some way to use that to my advantage...
- My new job is mindless busywork.
- I'm not doing what interests me.
- I'm not doing what I'm good at. Mainly because I really don't give a shit about filing.
- I don't get my own office. (Not that I had one before, but I'm still pouting.)
- My new supervisor smells like a damp ashtray. ALL. THE. TIME.
- My new supervisor thinks/talks/loves her dogs as if they were children. she almost cried when I told her I hate the whole barking, panting, licking, shedding, poop-eating species.
- I can smell a layoff coming.
I just hope they let me sneak in all my necessary hours before they lay me off so I can claim EI again. Pending that, I shall let them all live.
All in all, it's a positive deal, and I am excited to get back there. I miss talking to grownups. I miss taking a half hour at lunch for ME. I miss dressing up!
T-minus 19 days...