i’ll try to think of a clever title by the time i get home

Well, its “drinks” again at the Marie Celeste (aka The Sinking Ship
aka Land of Freaks, Acronyms and Meetings) – everyone around me is
standing about consuming their fake beer and fake champagne, while I
sit here and post to my blog via email – which is infinitely more
interesting than actually, you know, having to interact with the

Fortunately, if I crouch down, I can hide behind the stack of papers
on the cubicle fence and hope to god the GM (or anyone else in
authority) doesn’t seek me out for a chat. I’m not in the mood for
exchanging inane drivel, I’d really rather like to go home to bed, but
instead have the choice between sitting here pretending that I am
working or mingling – give me the pretend work any day.

I have to question why all the organisations I work for suck. Is it
me? Or is there a god of dreadful workplaces who really likes me an
awful lot? I’m thinking the latter.

If Fenton wasn’t off to Penang and San Jose for 3 weeks, I would hand
in my resignation today – but I am not keen to be the only adult in
the house while commencing a new job, its draining and icky (or is
that just an excuse?)

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