My irritation reigns supreme right now.
I spent an hour and fifteen minutes in some shitty traffic because some fuckwad decided they couldn't drive in the sun. Apparently, it was too bright for them and they crashed into the car ahead of them. Then, another fuckwad decided that the middle of the damned highway was a great spot for their car to die. You know, there are these little parts of the highway that are JUST wide enough for a car that's dying to squeeze into. You can wheel your dying car over there and let it plopplopfizzfizzdiedieDIE without it interrupting the flow of traffic. What a genius invention, eh? I heard that they are called "shoulders."
(My God, really, you can't find the copier? You mean, the big greyish-colored machine that says copier over it. That one? Because, there's only one. That's our copier. Yes, it makes copies. Yes, it costs money. No, I will not make your copies for you.)
Needless to say, I was late for my meeting. I don't like being late. It makes me feel disorganized and makes me look like a loser walking into a room where everyone is already settled. It makes me feel like I'm bothering everyone. But, on top of sitting in traffic, I also couldn't find the location of the meeting. I went there once before, but another person was driving and we were talking and it was raining and it was cold and I wasn't really awake, so that was like the double trifecta of me not paying attention.
When I got to the meeting, at the location of "Friendly Place," I wasn't feeling very friendly. In fact, I was feeling pretty much homicidal. Luckily, the lady at the desk was friendly and smiled and asked if she could help me. I told her why I was there and she (if I had a nickel for everytime a kid needed a coloring sheet, I'd be able to retire. If kids spent half the time reading as they did coloring pictures of fucking SpongeBob, we'd have a generation of fucture rocket scientists and people that could cure cancer, instead, we're going to have a generation of people who think that Bob the Starfish is the smartest thing since sliced bread) gave me the look of pity, which is the same look I give to patrons. We service schmucks know it well.
"Oh, ummmmm," she starts sheepishly, "the meeting doesn't start until noon."
I look at my watch. 10:41. GODDAMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTT! I look defeated, forlorn, stick a fork in this potato, I'm done.
"You're welcome to sit down and relax," she piped up.
"Oh, well, I really need to get back to my branch. I really have to get to work."
So, at this point I'm hotter than hell and thirsty and have been in the car for nearly two hours now and just don't want to be trapped in my own little space anymore. I also have to piss like a racehorse, but working in a library has made me have the remarkable ability to supress my body functions in disturbing ways that you don't want to know about.
I also heard a rumor that there is to be some sort of going away shindig for me. I'm not expecting much. Ok, who am I kidding, I'm not expecting anything. I doubt any of my jackass employees would do shit for me; ungrateful, overpaid, spoiled brats that they are. Doing something for someone else would require them to STOP TIHNKING ABOUT THEMSELVES for an hour.
I do get a new badge from security today. Apparently, this piece of information warranted a call from Mr. Big Security Guy. So, I can't go drive around town and get lost all over again looking for this meeting place because I have to wait for them.
And that's it. That's my going away present. A new id badge.
I feel like the 50th place contestant in the Miss Universe Contest.