I wish that after just about 7 months on the job, I could say it's getting better. I guess it is, sometimes. But never for very long.
Today my b*** actually, for the first time, liked my draft of the prez column. I allowed myself to feel good about that for a split second, and then wisely tamped it down. Good thing I did. Because there was more information forthcoming from same source: "Is that all there was today - those two things?" she asked.
"Y-yes," I said. "Both of those and I was handling the distribution problems from the magazine delivery yesterday."
"I'm just concerned about how long it took for you to complete those two pieces."
I sighed. I said, "you know, it just takes as long as it takes. I know you and Gertrude think it shouldn't take long at all, but it just does."
She said, "Well, I know how long it takes because I've done it."
Yeah, honey, you did it exactly twice back in January, but you didn't have to submit it to a prig like yourself.
I don't even remember what else I said to her, but for sure it sounded defensive. Once again, I am angry and frustrated.