The Circus

I'd like a vacation, and not for the usual reasons. Yes, there are the regular culprits--the stress and tedium of office life--but I'm rather inured by now. Rather, I crave a vacation from the strong personalities. You know them. The person who needs everything done exactly to her specification, however silly, anal, or time-wasting, because she actually does have obsessive-compulsive disorder. The grouchy manager who snaps at you whenever you make a request, then forgets your request for a few months, such that it becomes a rush job when you remind him. The boss who speculates at a meeting whether your friend who's missed a few days of work might be pregnant. The hyperactive, chatty gossip. The loud, over-caffeinated editor. And the assistant. I'm afraid I might physically harm the assistant, help me God. She does everything wrong, necessitating that large amounts of work be redone by other people because of things she "didn't notice" in the first place. She always has an excuse. She's the best, you see, but everyone's out to get her. We just don't understand. Then she had the gall to say, "kStyle, you need to tell your copyeditors that..." She's not my assistant, you see, and I'm one of the few who deigns to be nice to her, so perhaps she doesn't understand just how far I outrank her (miles and miles). I took the opportunity to remind her that I have been working at the company for 4 years and damn well knew what I was doing. She apologized, of course with an excuse. Then proceeded to do more stuff wrong.

I'm done with elephants and clowns
I want to
Run away and join the office
--Mike Doughty, again