Carly Catastrophe











So, it’s the begining of the 3rd week in the new office, and I don’t see it lasting much longer. Working with my mom just isn’t working. Before we even opened she could not stress enough the importance of me being her employee and not her daughter at work. However, she is the one who is in constant breach of this aggreement. Besides calling me things like “love” and “Care” (my family’s nickname for Caroline) all the time, when she’s in a bad mood, I’m the one who catches the brunt of it. And when she gets upset with me, it is in the manor of a mother to a child and not an employer to an employee. I think when I get back from vacation I’m going to look for a new job because I can’t deal with my mother causing me to break into tears at work every week.

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{July 18, 2008}   Curse you shop vac

I’d like to touch briefly on a very important topic….. How much I HATE shop vacs. At my new job, my proper job title is receptionist but it’s very easily translated into office bitch. Other than normal things like answering the phone, my duties include tasks such as getting drinks for my mom and until we have a cleaning crew, doing the cleaning. And this wouldn’t be that bad if we had a real vacuum. As it stands though, we have a shop vac. One of those huge like industrial sized vacuums that requires you to be in doggy style to use and takes like an hour to do a 10 minute job. It’s the same kind of vacuum that we have at home which has caused me to not give two shits if everything in the house is covered in dog hair as long as I don’t have to vacuum with that thing.

Also, while I was bringing that damned shop vac back upstairs this morning, I hit the stair rail with my side and now I have a huge fucking bruise. Perhaps, when that damn thing least expects it, I’ll hack it to bits or push it down the stairs or something.

That’s right Shop Vac, your days are numbered. You better sleep with one eye open.



et cetera