The temp job is certainly just that. A temp job. Nice people, who I won't get to know very well. Forgettable job. I'll not even remember it in a year. Or them. It'll all fade away.
Playing with Powerpoint, Visio and Excell all day long...reading legal contracts...clockwatching.
Nothing certain on the horizon, either. I think that it's time to just plain quit fighting it. Time to keep on with the attempt, but quit fighting. Just flow. Just roll. Those are easy, gravity-friendly movements.
In the meantime, I'll keep in my cubicle in the area of the office that's abandoned (they moved to the new building), without a phone, or anyone to talk to...all by myself...gonna eat some worms...
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2 comments:
good.
stay away from people.
and keep complaining that your red stapler has been missing.
if they give you static, tell them you'll put strichnine in the water.
wait...someone else has come up with that plot already. damit, gotta stop watching movies.
And hey, guess what- NO TPS reports!!! That Mike Judge- he'll rip off your stories every time. Dingy dang King of the Hill and all...
Yeah- it's the home stretch, and I've basically done fuck-all nothing for a week and a half, and gotten paid handsomely for it. No complaints here!
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