Delicious

I’m a breath over 90 kilos. That is what my new fandangled scales said to me first thing this morning. The ones Sam bought… for the boyfriend he now calls “fat Boy.”

I haven’t done any walking in my new running shoes, as yet. The new running shoes that I bought because my boyfriend has taken to calling me fat boy.

“Maybe, you should walk to work,” said Sam, just as he walked out the front door, just before I headed out the backdoor to the car.

I should walk to work, but it is currently just a bit far, it would take me close to an hour, and I currently start at 8.30am. And I’d need a shower when I got there, as some of the cute boys do… but, too hard.

Everybody drives with their windows closed in the mornings. All of them. Every window closed. The sun glints off the closed glass as I can only imagine their air conditioning whirring away inside. The selfishness of man, wasting the world’s resources for their own comfort. Not to mention, that we are becoming so cossetted, so protected, so well, lets face it, beige for no real good reason. Not me, I have both my windows open letting the fresh air gush in. It was, actually, lovely this morning.

What to do today? The same problem as yesterday. (main boss) Peter appears to be away today too, so there is nobody to check up on me. Lovely.

Daydream? Read the news? Piss around? All of those things, and then some more.

I started to clean up, throw away all of my working papers that I’d generated thus far, but no longer needed. I started thinking back over the old days at the black law firm. I’m not sure, now, what prompted me to think about it? I think it was a discussion about the new bullying legislation we’ve had recently. I’d written on a pad, a doodle of regret about those times at the black law firm. It was my regret not having sued their arses for bullying, I would have had an excellent case. It was those notes I read and then threw away in my clean up.

The Gord Bitch became my boss, after the mentally unstable Anorexia Stupenda bullied my lovely boss Beck out of the place. Rebecca Gord, she didn’t have a fucking clue. She was nice to my face, oh so nice, but she blamed all of her incompetence on me behind my back. She had no qualifications for the Beck’s job and I’m still pretty certain she was licking out Ms Chest Pains on a regular basis to get the role. She had to have been. Favourites, that’s what she was. She was forever in Ms Chest Pains office with the glass door slid shut.

I should have got the role, I was the natural choice, but of course, I wasn’t one of the sisterhood, I didn’t suck clit. (2016 – oh could you imagine, in that den of miserable cunts? I made a lucky escape out of there)

The Gord Bitches’s boss was Ms Chest Pains – who tried to do so much she constantly suffered from chest pains in her late 30’s, she told me once in a rare spasm of sisterly generosity. She was the greatest disappointment, Ms Chest Pains, as she was a colleague once, but she abandoned all of that for status and prestige of the upwardly mobile career of middle management. She told me when she was a friend about the chest pains.

Our head of department was The moody/mentally unstable Anorexia Stupenda. She’d always been a piece of miserable work. The rapid weight loss and the excessive exercise regime only exacerbated her natural unpleasantness.

The problem you have when you have a whole line of female bosses, is that start to menstruate together and then they become diabolical. (As told to me by a senior, female HR manager) They become the proverbial Pack of Blood Bitches. I was simply waiting for my eligibility for long service leave to click over to resign, otherwise I would have got out long before I did. I would have resigned the day Beck did. But, I figured, that it was the only time I’d ever get a long service leave pay out and I wanted it. Upon reflection, that was a mistake, no amount of money could make up for the treatment I suffered at the hands of the black law firm and, as the IT Director called them when he was managed out of the place, the Witches of Eastwick.

I thought about those days when that Gord Bitch became my unbearable boss after Beck left, after Anorexia Stupenda had bullied Beck out of the place, before Anorexia Stupenda started on me. The day I sabotaged the Gord Bitch, just the thought bought me a whole lot of satisfaction all over again. It was a great retribution. It was a thrill, as though I was getting away with something.

I chose to sabotage the Gord Bitch because she repeatedly stabbed me in the back, as she smiled and gazed into my eyes and told me she had no problems with me, or my work. All the time she was feeding lies to Ms Chest Pains to cover up for her own mistakes, who in turn, I can only presume, was telling Anorexia Stupenda.

Anorexia Stupenda was calling me into her office to have performance issue discussions, which enabled me to realise I was being done in by the Gord Menace. It didn’t take too many meetings, with the astoundingly ugly Anorexia Stupenda (2016 – okay, personal attacks are not okay) to work out that some sort of retribution was needed.

The Gord Hag, when she clearly wasn’t coping, which was often, would leave early, there by leaving me to do as I pleased. I selectively destroyed documentation in those windows of opportunity. I never destroyed enough to create a pattern, but I destroyed enough to make the Gord Bitch look incompetent or, at least, more incompetent. It just started off with some letters she had left to post. She said something like,

“I’m glad I have finally got that done.” And then turned and left at 3.45pm, with the look of distain she reserved, it would seem, exclusively for me. That was what gave me the idea in the first place.

I was cleaning up, ready to leave, I had that mail in one hand, to take to the mail room on my way out, and some documents in the other hand to shred. I nearly shredded the wrong handful by accident, just stopping myself before I did, swapping hands.

“Oh you idiot,” I said out loud.

Then when I looked down to see what I had in my hand for the mail, I saw that it was Gord’s superannuation paperwork being sent to all the funds. It was a big job, a monthly chore, so many super funds. It just came to me in a split second, you know, like a light globe moment.

“I’m glad I have finally got that done,” her words repeated in my head. I’m so pleased, that you are pleased, I thought.

And then, I simply pushed the letters into the still spinning shredder without another thought. That was how it started. It gave me such a fucking thrill, I can hardly describe it. I felt like an espionage agent as I strode to the lift, my dirty little secret hidden amongst the indecipherable contents of the shredders belly.

I told myself I wouldn’t do it again. I told myself that it was really wicked.

But then the remaining four months had to tick over before I could resign. And the Gord Whore continually blamed me for mistakes she had made. I was called into Anorexia Stupenda’s Office on and off, for mistakes I never made. I was told what the issue was and, so often, my only truthful answer was, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

So, the destruction of the superannuation documentation escalated, deliciously as I had absolutely nothing to do with that work, that was all the Gords doing and she couldn’t blame me for it in any way. Well, I guess she could…

I think my greatest triumph was the HR girl, was it Hannah, who came back to the black law firm to work for 6 months, I think? That idiot Gord bitch had messed up Hannah’s superannuation, somehow joining Hannah up to the companies default fund, rather than her choice of fund. Hannah was understandably annoyed, but even more so when The Gord Idiot fumbled the corrections. I think she messed up the corrections twice.

After many phone calls and much effort by the Gord Liar the problem was fixed. Hannah was furious, but placated that it was finally fixed. The Gord Hag had completed all of the paperwork and had written out a cheque and the proper payments were being made. I listened to the Gord Bitch apologise profusely and promise sincerely to Hannah that it was all fixed. Definitely! She was posting off all the paperwork and the payment that day. All done.

The Gord Bitch grovelled, oh the simpering was almost too much for me the stomach, and Hannah seemed to be pacified. No she wouldn’t escalate the problem to the HR Director now that the Gord Bitch had promised, seemingly on her mother’s grave, that it was all fixed up. Definitely. No exceptions.

All I could think was, I need to get my hands on that paperwork. I entertained myself with the thought, not really believing that I would. I didn’t really care, just the thought was enough. Then, as luck would have it, the Gord Whore left early for the day, tossing the paperwork into the mail tray, telling me not to forget it.

Don't forget it. I watched the Gord Bitch remove her fowl body, stinking of inauthenticity, from the office, disappearing through the door to the lift wells. All that work, I thought. So many mistakes. Such an angry, position of authority, employee. All fixed now.

Oh, you can count on it," sounded Gord's insipid tones. Let me just apologise again, I got a thrill, which I enjoyed just a little too much, as my hand wrapped it self around the multiple envelopes.

The shredder was a big mother, there was no amount of paperwork that it couldn’t cope with. It went zzzzzzz. Lovely. Gone, in a millisecond. I shivered all over with excitement. It was one of my funnest moments.

It would have been delicious. I only wished I could have been there for that next phone call from Hannah.

Hannah would have been beside herself with rage, when her super was not fixed. The Gord Bitch would have been at a loss to understand what had happened. She was dumb, really. She knew a bit, but really she got by on her looks and her rat cunning. But, I tell you, her looks were beginning to fade when I left. Her face was puffy, she had bags under her eyes. Hannah would have added to that degeneration by the time she was finished with her. Hannah was connected at the black law firm, she had friends in very high places. She was a very senior employee only removed from her position by child birth. I like to think that my effort with Hannah’s super drama expedited the Gord Bitch’s exit from the company.

But, I had resigned by then and I had left a few days later.

It would have been great.

I heard that the Gord Bitch resigned not long after, apparently, of her own choosing, but, you know, maybe not? The only disappointment with it was that I never got the feedback on what happened, due to my handi work. Sad really. I hope, in my own way, that I added to the Gord Bitches demise. I can only hope. She was way out of her depth. She had no idea what she was doing. I can only assume it caught up with her. Ha ha.

And I wonder if she ever realised that, as Sebastian loves to say, you should never cross a queen?

I should have put in a bullying claim, I really should have. Still, it does do me good to think about my retribution occasionally. Ah, good times, snatched from the jaws of bullying.

The day drifted away after that. I did nothing much before I went to lunch. Noodles. Yum!

Then it was back to work. Yay.

I was going to go for a walk, in my lunch hour, but the weather had turned, yet again. We are back to winter, incomprehensibly. We are back to cold and overcast with rain. I was almost going to brave the elements, I went outside to gauge how it was all looking and it just looked a little too unpredictable to risk it. It looked as though it could really rain down hard at any moment.

So I went back to my desk and read the online news.

Shayleene and Cate went to Vic Gardens to get me a chocolate bar. (Yes, that will help)

Peter came in early afternoon.

Christine went shopping.

I twiddled my thumbs for the first part of the afternoon.

I guess I should be concerned about doing my work and being productive? Why exactly? I’m not going to get a good performance review? I’m not going to get a performance review at all? I’m a temporary worker. It is up to them to make sure I am kept busy. I don’t get tenure. I’m out of here in less than two months. I don’t have a career that I have to attend to.

It is better that way, as most bosses are cunts and they will use any employee’s performance review as a means to further their own careers. Performance reviews are bullshit.