Velouria (velouria) wrote,

Alles klar, Herr Kommissar?

Sitting in a doctor's office to get bloodwork done this morning to find out what's wrong with me (hint: no one ever will), and two slack-jawed yokels feel the need to sit on either side of me in an empty waiting room and shout an unintelligible conversation back and forth across me. I got up and moved, and they proceeded to give me death glares the entire time we all sat together, which was roughly an eternity.

Continued on to work. Went to lunch with Lunch Girlfriend, whose since been upgraded to Lunch Wife since gay marriage became legal in California a few days ago, and had a margarita against my better judgment. Better is a relative term; All of my judgment sucks. The lack of blood plus the fasting all day contributed to a major league headache back at the office, where Supervisor, or Der Kommissarr as I refer to her, calls me into her office to babble out an apology for not promoting me and grips my shoulders dramatically as she begged me to stop giving her the silent treatment. "YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I VALUE YOU, WE ALL LOVE YOU, IF YOU EVER NEED ANYTHING FROM ME, JUST TELL ME. EXCEPT A PROMOTION, I GUESS. HAHAHA."

So I'm sitting there, eyes all glazed over, wishing she would stop touching me. Unhand me, you traitorous swine. How can she claim to love and value me when she'd rather hire a complete stranger and another secretary than promote me. Beginning to wonder how any of these people in my life can claim to do so when their actions indicate the exact opposite. And a preemptive no, it's not because I'm a lush. Don't even go there.

Went back to my office and resumed scanning all the vacant positions in the Department. My goal now is to transition from working with inmates into working with parolees, largely because I figure busting down doors is just about as unprofessional as you get in this business. I don't know what I'm doing trying to make a living writing laws, anyway. What a creative outlet that's been.
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