Today, she said to me, "I knew after you being here about three weeks that you wanted to leave. So I went to her and I said, 'Go to him and, you know, sort of hint that it's not just him who's having problems. I mean, I don't want to get walked off and lose my benefits for walking in and wrapping my hands around his fat fucking throat and strangling him.'"
I guess that means she recognized early on that I was trying to do a good job. I guess it's a compliment. I guess.
She's leaving, though. Her last day is in two weeks. One of the reasons I can occasionally enjoy going to work is leaving in 14 days.
Another person who helps make the day bearable had an interview last week. It went really well. She knows it went really well because she has a good friend who is on the hiring committee, although that friend wasn't in on her interview. I think she'll get hired and leave two weeks later. She'll possibly leave by the end of the month.
Work just got real fucked.
I hope I fail probation. (I won't, though. I'm not the kind of person who can willfully sabotage his job.) If I fail, I'll just end up back in the North Bay at the other job I didn't particularly care for.
I care for this job even less, though.
Is it wrong that I keep hoping that something will go dreadfully wrong and my boss will one day be found in dumpster after having been missing all weekend?