Bitching Post

I want today's lunch break back.

I spent it with the receptionist of our company. She's a pleasant enough girl, but has the very unpleasant habit of peeping at co-workers' W-2s and then complaining about the various salaries, perks, and benefits those people receive. And she's not complaining about some co-receptionist who has been on the job six months longer than she has. No, she complains that one guy gets a gas allowance (a guy who is on call 24 hours a day for emergency situations), or she complains about the president's six-figure salary (a very private man I've never ever seen goof off in the six years I've worked here).

"Must be nice," she rolls her eyes and gets an aggressive edge to her voice.

Now, I'm not defending or justifying these men's salaries, but do I really need to be worrying about them? If she's so gung-ho for six-figure bank why doesn't she go out and get it instead of begrudging it from someone else? Endure her own 20-odd years of corporate drudgery for some gas money?

Bah. Kids these days.

Oh! And the topper? We dropped in to a Hallmark store on the way back at her suggestion. (If you own or invest in Hallmark I suggest you read no further). What a pile of meaningless shit! That was one of the most depressing stores I've ever been in, second only to those Christmas stores that sell scores of St. Nicholas figurines. Reams and reams of paper that will be immediately tossed away and ugly, cheap, tacky tchotchkys that never should have been made in the first place.

Tomorrow I go back to eating alone in my cubicle.