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ROGUE OF RAGE
Here’s the thing about me: I am a polite and kind person, but you do not get my /respect/ until you /prove/ to me that you deserve it.
I don’t give a damn what titles you’ve earned or what power you have - or /think/ you have - over me.
I /do not give a damn/ if you’re my /boss/ and I need the goddamned money.
If you do not respect me, I do not respect you. If you treat me like shit, I WILL respond in kind. And /fuck you/ for /daring/ to think that I shouldn’t have that right.
I am an intelligent goddamned human being and my life does not and /never will/ revolve around someone who does not treat me as such.
In other news, I just submitted a resume for a nearby emergency vet, and there’s a distinct possibility I’ll be quitting the office job here shortly.
*attempts not to scream in anger*
Looks like it’s time to go job hunting again.
(It’s the sort of day where I want to beat my head against a wall.)
I’ve spent so much time plotting my “library” that I have no idea how to arrange my living room, and the only piece of furniture I have for my bedroom is the bed itself. Let alone decorations. Oops.
I keep having to lay down on the floor. Partially to rest, partially to revel in the brilliance that is clean carpets.
My boss gave me the day off tomorrow in order to work on moving. On the one hand, I’m nervous about losing the wages; on the other hand, this means I can start getting stuff over there first thing in the morning.
I may be in my new apartment twelve hours from now.
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