Sep. 27th, 2004

gamiila: (Default)
This will come as no surprise to you who have been reading this journal for the last few months: I think I'm very near to cracking. You've seen my entries about the hellish commute, the work pressure and the intractability of my manager, respectlessly referred to as Jobsworth, and you will know that I have steadily been losing it for some time now.

Today, all public transport personnel in and around Amsterdam is on strike. Which meant that the trains, which were running according to schedule, were overcrowded in the extreme. Which meant that my train into work broke down, a happenstance that caused me to be late coming into the office. Late as in 1 hour late. Do you think that Jobsworth, who knew of the strike and who knows very well what my situation is as far as my dependency on public transport is concerned, reacts to this with understanding and compassion? Of course not. He insists I stay behind tonight to make up for the lost hour of productivity. Realistically, how productive do you think I am going to be after our heated little discussion of just now?

I've made up my mind: first thing tomorrow, I'm going to see my GP, tell him I'm stressed out of my skull, and see if he won't prescribe complete and utter rest for the remainder of the week at least.


gamiila: (Default)

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