I am done.

I’m done. I despise my job, my coworker cannot show up to our two phone calls with a vendor twice a week, none of the people I’ve worked for can approve my time on time, and my team is littered with people doing nothing much at all but chatting with each other. Trivial issues or topics not related to work. While I’m fine with office chat, if it’s all you want to speak about instead of working, I simply can’t.

I could quit tomorrow and nobody would miss me. leadership is entirely new and incompetent. Am I? Of course, but I didn’t apply for the job. My boss actually punches things when he’s angry. Yes as in, literally punches things, IN the office. He fumes, pacing about, he’s overwhelmed and has no idea what he’s doing. He just bought a house, had a baby and his uncle and mother in law have died in the last 6 months in addition to being promoted to managing people. Granted, most of these excuses were…choices. He CHOSE to buy a house and have a kid and apply for a job he must’ve known he wasn’t prepared for.

Nothing gets done around here. It enrages me yet at the same time doesn’t matter, as I don’t care about my job at all. I’m going to write books. I’m going to write my way out of this fucking job. I’m going to continue writing books that it lifts me up and out of here, through a hole in the ceiling above my desk like the heavens opening up and accepting me in to the city of angels. (not L.A.) I’m going to write and write and write until I simply make enough meaningful content to make a dollar for every one, every day and eventually write enough books that make that one dollar each day to make MORE than I already DON’T here.

I write at home, and I write at work even more. Yes, I write at work, more than I work. I write at work more than I write at home. That’s the only reason I enjoy coming to work now. I do so much nothing here that I have time to write, and I have the freedom to, or at least get away with it, until I don’t. I’ve got a book idea and I’ve written almost 3k words today and hopefully will get there. I think it’s a unique idea, there isn’t a book I’ve been able to find on the topic yet. So this is my current muse. The current reason keeping me from going insane.

Every day another reason I truly despise my job rears it’s ugly fucking head. It’s ALWAYS something. People are dumb, stupid, terrible, despicable people, sometimes. For nothing.

I’m going to hop on this call, where my coworker will undoubtedly be late, and write some more. For the rest of the day.

Get me out.