When I Grow Up, I Want to Be Rich and Famous. Or Just Rich Would Do.

I hate everyone at work lately. All of them.



My supervising paralegal is being a complete bitch and treating me like I’m retarded. There’s no need for that. Some of the things that I have to do right now are things that, because we’d been slow and hadn’t received a bunch of new files, I haven’t had to do before. Excuse me for asking questions and not immediately knowing every single procedure. I hate all the “procedures,” because what they mostly seem to involve is me doing boring, tedious bullshit and then getting bitched at for not doing the boring, tedious bullshit correctly.


Mr. Snorty is being a condescending dickweed and not listening to me, and then when he does finally listen, basically confirms that I was right in the first place.



Ms. Whiny acts like I don’t have shit else to do besides put things in notebooks for HER cases.


Mr. Meeting is being high maintenance and turning into Mr. Snorty with the coughing and sniffling noises coming from his office. At least he has not yet taken up recreational ball-scratching.


All of them are demonstrating that they have a serious lack of reading comprehension skills.


All I’ve done for two weeks is shuffle paper and put it in folders and/or binders.



I’m not a fucking file clerk.



If I wanted to be a file clerk, I would have applied for that job.



I am seriously starting to hate my job, and I wonder what is wrong with me that I hate every job I do after 6 months to a year.


I think maybe I really am in the wrong line of work. I would like to apply for the job of “lottery winner” or perhaps “Paris Hilton”. Except that I really hate little yippy dogs and I would require an extensive amount of liposuction to be able to fit one leg in her jeans.


I would, however, be sure that my girly bits were fully covered at all times.


I don’t think I actually have much chance of winning the lottery, either: I’m not 80 years old and I don’t work in a food-processing plant. I did notice that the recent winners from Missouri had several useless unemployed adult children, and I think they were all male. Perhaps they need to adopt an adult daughter? I think so.


Taking care of older people is probably easier than dealing with a bunch of asshole lawyers anyway.


9 comments on “When I Grow Up, I Want to Be Rich and Famous. Or Just Rich Would Do.

  1. Sorry your job sucks, but I do find all your pseudo-names –Mr. Dickweed, etc. very amusing. Thanks too for reminding me why I’m not in the workforce anymore.

  2. Holy hell … are we doppelgangers? you are SO describing MY shitty job. As of today, FOUR paralegals have quit in the past year … two in the past month. I’m just the assistant around here but I do a lot of paralegal work that I don’t get paid to do just because it relieves 0.01% of the boredom. I was going to go to an interview today but then I got dragged into an attorney/paralegal meeting … but WHY? I’M NOT A PARALEGAL as you are so fond of reminding me when it’s convenient for you and so fond of forgetting when it’s convenient for you.

  3. Just curious, but why did you leave Diaryland?

    I’ve been checking out other people’s profiles and finding new journals that way. I found you through YeahImADork’s profile and roughly 40 to 50% of the people at Diaryland have moved onto other places.

    Sometimes they leave a forwarding address, sometimes not. Just wondering…

  4. You poor chica. Your workplace sounds even more hideous than mine, as there’s only really one person here that we all hate. I generally like my co-workers. Except for Mr. Snorty across the wall from me, but he’s not a co-worker, so there ya go.

    I would love to win the lottery but my problem is that I never play and I hear you have to play to win.

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