And Nothing's Really Making Any Sense At All, Let's Talk


What a week it's been - and there's still another day to go! I'd half-planned to go to Sydney this weekend - art galleries, shopping, etc - but all I can see myself actually doing is watching DVDs whilst wrapped up in a doona.

On Monday I had my first official work performance review. Naturally, I was wetting myself slightly worried, but it actually turned out fine. Okay, scrap the false modesty - it was outstanding. I received especial raves for my superb organisational organisation skills and systems knowledge. My rating is very high, so I can expect a nice little payrise in the next pay cycle! *Bows*

So the bad news I was expecting turned out very well, but unfortunately on Monday I also received some pretty bad news I wasn't expecting at all. However, I determined that I wouldn't let it get me down, and I might have suceeded, had it not been for...

Tuesday - VD wasn't a very good day. I know I'm one of the bloggers Omni was referring to - the women who feel jealous of their coworkers receiving flowers. It's not so much that I'm jealous, but consider this. Our office is right near one of Newcastle's biggest florists. Think of how you would feel if all day, a stream of delivery people arrived at the door with large bouquets for coworker after coworker, and knowing that it's never going to happen to you. Now let two things compound this - the fact that you're expected to admire each delivery, so as not to appear bitter; and the misguided sympathy of the other women who make consoling noises about your bare desk. Because really, it's not about the flowers (I'm not even all that keen on flowers!) it's what they stand for. Anyway, I think I handled it pretty well - I did take a few minutes time out in the ladies occasionally if I felt I needed it. Never let 'em see you, sweat I say. Or if they must see you sweat (unlikely, considering the glacial air conditioning in here) don't let them see you blubbing!

Then Wednesday was a complete
Murphy's Law of a day. Everyone in the office went to an off-site campaign launch in the afternoon, and I was supposed to go too. But the work kept piling up, so I had to stay in the office awhile longer to finish it all. As I was frantically working on the databases, three irate customers arrived in reception at once, who then became all the angrier when I explained to them that because no one was here to help them, they'd have to make appointments to come back another time. Then the couriers arrived before I had the courier bags ready to send, and as they waited impatiently for me to print the shipping forms, the copier jammed. (All this, I might add, the receptionist should have done before she left). By the time I arrived at the function centre, in a taxi I had to pay for myself, it was after 4pm, and I'd worked straight through without time for lunch. So you can imagine how pleased I was to discover that all the food and all grog except some port was gone. So I left, deciding that I might as well maintain the fun tone of the day (and the week!) by allowing my beautician to pour hot wax on me and rip out my hair.

Well, that brings us to today...and there's still Friday to get through before it's the weekend. but I do have to consider a rather more horrifying possibility. What if everything had gone well for me this week? Now that's a truly scary thought...

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