I work with morons: a reiteration

Today, there is so much to say about absolutely nothing:

  • I work with morons
  • HarryPotter has saved my bacon, again
  • 17 days till I see my man

I work with morons:

I truly could do Boobs and NFEditor’s jobs. I know that seems a bit presumptuous and maybe a little naive, but I am amazed that anything gets done in that office. Boobs left at 11am for her spa day. Once every three weeks she gets her routes touched up, her nails filled and her tan sprayed. She puts more effort into looking like Katie Price in a business suit than she puts into her job.

I mean, how many great authors are out there trying to get a book deal? She should be trawling the internet for new faces and out meeting people. She whines all the time that there’s ‘no talent in writing anymore’ and ‘most people that write novels are so delusional they think that they’ll be the next Grisham’. Yes, assholes and nimrods contact MNM, and the slush pile is full of window lickers, but there’s got to be more to her job than tri-weekly spray tans. 

As for NFEditor, see yesterday’s post on her faxing habits. Simply. She’s a mentalist.

Don't roll your eyes at me young man.

And Intern2 is a snide little prick. He doesn’t have to do any paper work (that’s done by your’s truly), but he looks constantly confused. Maybe he’s just constipated, it’s the same bloody face. He’s always muttering under his breath about all the work he has to do, and if I ever ask him anything he just tuts or rolls his eyes before whingeing that he has ‘enough to do already’.

And then there’s Goatee. I mean, I shouldn’t really complain about Goatee, especially not after last week’s lunch time adventure. But, he knows I’m stuck behind that desk. He could offer to take me along to readings and author meetings, but he doesn’t. He just heads out the door with Intern 2.

HarryPotter has saved my bacon:

Notice that there’s one person I’m not complaining about…HarryPotter. I could kiss that boy. Today Intern2 was out with Goatee – again – and out of no where HarryPotter came to my desk and offers to answer the phones so I can go away for lunch. He must have noticed that I was stuck in the office while Intern2 was away. And he helped with the petty cash the other day. I should find a way to pay him back for all his help.

17 days till I see my man

You know, despite it all, I’m actually quite chipper. Why? I work with idiots, it’s a Friday night and I’m a Billy-no-mates blogger, but in 17 days I’m gonna see my man for some super sexy time. I cannot wait!

PS-Tomorrow, I’m meeting Dad and Paula in Edinburgh for a bit of a luncheon day-trip. (Edinburgh is half way on the train between Glasgow and where he lives outside Newcastle.) I might see if I can get a bit of a Daddy loan. I am kind of running out of wanga, and I don’t want to be on a budget when TheBoy gets here.


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