Which is somehow fitting, bearing in mind Lord H's profession (accountancy). Yesterday - 11 September 2006 - was our 13th wedding anniversary. Work was hell (of which more later - grrrr...), but anniversary was lovely. Presents of books, a CD and flowers, including roses (my favourite), topped off nicely with a bottle of pink champagne, and "Dalziel and Pascoe" on TV. Perfect. And we're a teenager now. Hurrah!
Today was further hell at work. I've been working my socks off and my heart out to get these bloody induction presentation talks sorted out. Two things went wrong yesterday (neither of which it turns out were our fault), which in my opinion I dealt admirably with - fire-fighting, supporting and encouraging the troops, apologising to and soft-soaping those who needed it - and generally getting the show back on the road, with sterling support from our team of crack presenters. All this when the boss was out. The moment he comes back, he sends out an email saying exactly the same things as in my earlier email (which he'd already seen ...) as if he and only he was capable of coping with the disasters. Well wipe my bottom and call me a monkey then. Bloody hell - words fail me!! Not only that, but he takes the time to question, criticise and stare at me blankly, but is there even one word of thanks? Is there hell. Now, I may not be the world's greatest manager, but when I had staff, when the shit hit the fan I at least knew how to say thank you and make them feel (a) supported and (b) better. Which I think makes me a million times better than him right now. Thanks a lot - for nothing.
So today, I'm feeling very close to throwing the whole thing up in the air and (a) seeing if he can hack it, (b) telling him there's no way in hell I'm doing this again next year if that's the level of support I get, and (c) looking for another job. Perhaps the time to move on is beckoning - a fact only made clearer by today's thorough mis-management of me. Shame, but there it is. As and when I get something else, it will be a huge relief not to have to pretend I care (Fact: I don't - hell, it's just a job, after all. I do it to the best of my ability, but I don't see it as important. It's not writing ...).
But nice things that happened today include the Tesco's till-lady recognising me and knowing how much money I was likely to ask for - goodness, I'm so predictable, but hey that's service! And lunchtime reflexology with the new lady, Emily, was wonderful - so relaxing I drifted off twice. It provided a much-needed respite from the shit of the rest of the day.
I should have been going to Guildford Writers this evening, but the day's been too hellish and I don't have the emotional energy for it. So a night in in front of the TV calls me. Thank God.
Today's three nice things:
1. Tesco lady's banter
3. Coming home to Lord H.
Happy anniversary, Anne.
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