Thursday, 14 June 2012

Work's a yoke

Gaahhhh. I have reached the end of my tether and indeed, gone beyond it. Work is all shades of hell at the moment: Queen Dementor is sucking any happiness from the office in the manner of a voracious hoover, replacing it with a permanent miasma of acrimony and suspicion. And she’s come up with a set of objectives that would essentially mean cloning myself as it’s a whole new job – and nothing to do with what we actually do. My boss is so demoralised and unsupported that I had to talk him out of walking out the other day; then he went sick. I had to go on a visit yesterday that required me to get up at 4.30am and then get thoroughly cold, wet and bored. Then come back to the office which was almost as cold – if not as wet and do my day job. I think I need a new job. Or, ideally, to win the lottery.

It doesn’t help with the comfort eating. I’ve eaten a little too much dark chocolate this week – and I’ve wanted a whole lot more. And I’ve had a few coffees (I usually shun milk – not through desire but I think I put on weight when I have it) in an attempt to keep myself from zombie-dom. Yesterday, the visit people gave us lunch which, in hunger and tiredness, I ate- 2 white baps (1 ham, 1 cheese) and a packet of crisps. And before that I noted that I have not lost any of the poundage I put on in Devon (despite an alcohol-free, salad-rich weekend). Heaven only knows how bad it is now. If only stress and anxiety boosted my metabolism, I’d be a mere sylph.

At the weekend I spend a few hours going though the bags and bags of too-small clothes I have in the base of my wardrobe. On the bright side, if I were ever to get to a size 14 I would have plenty to wear without spending a penny. And by the time I get there, it will all be genuinely vintage. If it hasn’t crumbled to dust.

I’m off work tomorrow, nursing a Labrador who goes to pieces as a result of a pre-med. She’s a toughie normally (ripped her ear almost off and clearly thought we were making a fuss) but becomes a clingy whimpering wreck after an op. She won’t let my mother leave her for a second and cries all night so I’m going to try and be back-up. Let no-one say that I don’t lead a life of glamour and excitement.


Seren said...

Gah, I have a suitcase full of too small clothes that I keep hoping to "slim into". Maybe I should get a couple of particularly nice pieces out and hang them up somewhere to do something about my dwindling motivation???

A new job definitely sounds in order - you can't live with those kind of ridiculous stress levels. Personally, I'd be tempted to follow your boss' example and go on sick. Maybe if enough of her staff play the "stress" card someone further up the food chain will do something about it?

Despite all this, hope you have a lovely weekend and all goes well with the labrador.


Lesley said...

Me too with the wardrobe of too small clothes - I have a range of 12s, 14s, small 16s all of which I love and can't bring myself to part with. I think I'll concede that I'm never going to be a 12 though and get rid of those but 14 and small 16 - NEVER!

I'm so sorry you're having such a tough time at work. Can't help thinking that it's got so bad, maybe stress and complaint about bullying might be the way to go. Keep diary (even if you have to retrospectively make it up) for evidence of bullying and unreasonable behaviour.

Maybe wait until after the wedding though....

In the meantime - big bear hug of support.

Hope labrador cheers up soon too.

Lesley xx

Love Cat said...

Your boss sounds like an absolute nightmare. I once had a complete nutter for a boss. She was the devil incarnate and I always think I would never stand for that kind of behavior again but when you are in the midst of it - it's not that easy to do something about it.

Thinking of you. x