My parents have the cutest furry animal ever. It’s a baby pygmy goat, raised on a bottle. It’s colored like a tabby cat and is the size of a puppy. We’ve named it Sprite. It likes to jump in your lap and snuggle. I have a picture of it, but it’s not digital so I can’t upload it.
Anyway, this is my last week at work and my manager has decided I no longer exist. She’s giving my work to the girl who is taking my place, but I am not allowed to help this girl (Leigh Anne). She wants me to answer phones (Leigh Anne’s job) while Leigh Anne researches textbook orders (my job). I’m so pissed! I want to walk out, quit early.
I had been looking forward to training Leigh Anne. I had made notes of the tricky parts of the job and of shortcuts I’ve come up with. Traditionally the person leaving this job trains the next in line. But Shirley (evilly stupid manager) has usurped that role.
I can’t do anything about my predicament (other than be obstinate and cause little problems here and there). All I can do is look at the picture of Baby Sprite. It calms me down. Ah, precious baby goat.
Tags: farm animals, mantras, stress, work
November 29, 2007 at 2:22 am
Pygmy goats are pretty cool. My wife wants to get a couple, but life is too busy right now. Maybe in a few years when things slow down, and a little more land for such critters would be nice too. 160 acres is my dream, but 40 would be ok, I guess. Ok, that’s my random, poinless thought for the day. Take care.
November 29, 2007 at 4:34 pm
I hope to have my own farm one day too. Until then, I’ll just visit my parents.