I wanna be rich

I really need to win the Powerball because I just can't deal with office bullshit anymore. I can't deal with bitchy know-it-alls or whiny, self-centered brats who pout when you don't say hello to them. I also can't stand having to carry lazy thoughtless motherfuckers who fell perfectly comfortable taking days off or strolling in late with little regard to how it effects other people. And I REALLY can't stand a supervisor who spends more time trying not to piss anyone off than actually supervising.

But more than anything, I can't stand constantly bitching about the people I work with. Some might say I should stop bitching, but when a good chunk of my time awake is spent with these assholes, it's kinda tough to let it roll off ya and since I can't totally go off on these motherfuckers like I want to, I have this blog. I don't call myself the Crotchety Crocheter for nothin'. I am thankful that I have a job right now and I can half-sorta pay my bills and feed my stupid face, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating to have to deal with other people's insensitivity and pettiness.

Then again, they may feel the same about me. Maybe my frosty, cold-shouldered, I'm-not-here-to-make-friends attitude pisses them off. Maybe I think I'm just an awesome workerbee doing her job and they think I'm a robotic bitznitch with a chip on her shoulder. They are probably right to some degree. I don't pretend to want to get to know them or to let them get to know me. I do believe that my only obligation here is to do my job well. I'm not paid to coo over their babies (if I'm not in the mood which is rare because I do love babies) or their puppies or listen to them bitch about their husbands. There's nothing gained by me telling them about what my friends and I did over the weekend, how my family is doing in Indiana, or whether I'll marry someday (none of these bastards would be invited to the wedding).

These people are driving me to smoke. I hate them for this.