On being a leper…

Found out today, I’d be spending my precious weekend with the biggest twit bimbo in the office 😛 I decided I wasn’t going to waste my weekend, and pulled out of the outing… It’s not that I don’t want to go, but I cannot stand that woman.

She’s so blooming irritating. She squeaks and behaves as if she’s the cutest angel on earth. The truth being, she’s much closer to looking like a leprechaun that cackles and tries to make men adore her. Apparently, she’s supposed to be multi-lingual and all that shit, and what she loves to do most is speak in bullshit tongues when talking to people. Put me in one car with another twit who speaks only Chinese, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure I’d be silent the whole way as they gibber away in their irritating squeaky little voices.

Apparently, this year, we’re supposed to be working together. I don’t think it’s possible. This is not something I can do to myself. As much as I want to go on the expedition, she’s just not worth the headache. I would love to see Kunming and Lijiang, Lhasa and Kathmandu, go to Darjeeling and Agra and Delhi and all those exotic places, but not at the expense of my sanity.

It was very difficult for me last year, and I can only imagine how hard it’s going to be for me this year. I probably have to be the ‘leper’ again, looking for a small space to squeeze into at camp sites, looking for a kitchen to joing for dinner, and generally missing home like hell for two months, with horrid people in stinky clothes and worse attitudes for company.

My lesson for today, is that we cannot have all we wish and desire. On the surface I might have a great job, with all the traveling and glamour and what-have-you. The truth is far more ordinary. I deal with idiots on a daily basis, get crap pay and benefits, and wrestle with my conscience regularly. I am overworked, and unappreciated.

Perhaps it’s time I moved on. Even if moving on means working minimum wage at McDonalds. At least there’s no more shit politics, and I get paid what I deserve. Flipping burgers ain’t tough, but you don’t need to be a brain surgeon to know how to do it right.

Wishing I was rolling around in dough, so I don’t have to work – Jasmine.

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