I hate my job

I hate my job. I am not kidding.

You want to know what I did at work every week? ABSOLUTELY BUSY LIKE ONE MAD WOMAN. I sat at my ***** desk with tons of paper for definitely more than 40 hours. I vetted and signed hundreds of invoices. And I read hundres of emails. And I attended a super-boring meeting to which I received another tons of assignment.

I hate my job. Some of you probably think I've got it made. I go to work in a climate controlled office, does'nt do much thing, and get paid for the opportunity. Who wouldn't love that?? You might be surprised. Time passed very fast when you have loads of thing. And I do mean FAST. I always didn't reallised the time until after everybody leaves the office at 6 pm.

My subordinate are a bunch of shits. One guy have to leave the office at 5.30 on the DOT everyday. "I'm sorry I've to leave now ... I'll do it tomorow morning, bye..." Another guy, "OMG! you mean I've to do this???? but why???? how can I manage???? why me???" Another guy, always MIA squatting at some Angmohs desk! endless shits !!!!......

I hate my job. I especially hate my boss. I have to listen to him in his office all day as he rambles on ad nauseum, using meaningless MBA terms like "functional matrix" and "deliverables" and "actional components" and "gap analysis" and "metrics" and "stratification" and "high level goals" and "distributed users" and "audit trail" and "ad hoc" and "resource snapshot report"...and that's ALL IN ONE SENTENCE. Sounds like he swallowed a textbook on corporate management. In a meeting the other day, he told me he wants to start having "brown bag sessions." WTF IS A BROWN BAG SESSION? If he thinks I'm going to spend my lunch hour sitting around a table and listening to his oral diarrhea, he better think again. I got a brown bag with something in it just for him...and it ain't an old changkee curry puff.

I hate my job. I'd rather selling flowers at Pusara Aman to hundreds of Mak Ciks. At least I'd be outdoors getting some fresh...well, getting some air. Every day would be chock full of surprises, and I'd have plenty of colorful stories to pass on to my grandchildren.

I hate my job. I just thought of another reason, my colleague, Sales "Director" is a butt puppet. Ever since he started his new position this year, he has been all about pleasing customers. Now I gotta send huge parcel to PTM by DHL every week at our cost. Not forgetting squeezing three forty-footer container load of machines into a two forty-footer container for PTM. This is madness! He's acting like a saint, Mr Nice Guy to a bunch of Indons there who he always called "Bro". Perhaps, Berok is more appropriate!

I hate my job. Please help me find another one before I go on a shooting rampage. Helppppppppppppppppppppppppppp