Dashed Out

I have decided to do no more work today. What does that make me?

So far, this week has not been a good one. The woman who was gone all of last week, but to the best of my knowledge only asked for last Monday off, hasn't been here this week and hasn't, also to the best of my knowledge, called to say she's not/wasn't going to be in. (Some of the other people who work here think it has to do with her mother, but I think that even if I was taking care of my mother I could find two minutes to call work and leave a messages saying that I won't be in for two weeks.) One lady had scheduled yesterday and today off two weeks ago. And another one called in sick yesterday and said that she was hoping to make it in on Thursday.

Yesterday, that left me, the one office assistant we have, and my supervisor. Yesterday evening my supervisor told me that she wasn't going to be in for the rest of the week.

Today, there was only me and the one office assistant.

Today was also the busiest day on the schedule for the week.

I've spent my whole day, up until a few minutes ago and my breaks, doing almost all the work. Office assistants are not supposed to deal with the paperwork that requires files to be pulled or are money documents. I'm a fortunate person who gets to do it all.

Last night, I had my in basket empty (because I had all the things that needed files pulled piled on my desk waiting for this morning). When I got here this morning there was a huge stack waiting for me. Why? I asked myself. Because, I replied, your supervisor said she'd help by doing some of the gigantic pile of mail that you had to sort and stamp earlier today. I guess she couldn't finish or didn't try to finish the chunk she gave herself while she was chatting up the PJ's secretary on their two hour lunch.

At this moment, I'm at the same point I was when I left yesterday. Files that needed to be pulled are pulled. The sit on my desk waiting for me to go through them. Put loose papers in their proper order. Check the address record. Drain the blood of ten virgin chickens over them to help with the prayer for a quick and just decision when they reach the hands of the judges.

I don't want to do it though. I want to get up and walk out. Or, since that'd probably get me fired, at least put on my music. I can't, though. I have to be alert for when someone comes through the door and needs my help because I'm the only one here who's at the proper level to deal with real people be they in person or on the phone.

And so far eleven minutes have been spent writing/whining.

Maybe I'll look up Atlantis at Wikipedia, that should be interesting.