. Ham on Wry .
. . .
. . . . .

Dread

Yesterday's entry makes me think: I'd go into a store, a real actual store where people could see my face--people who live in the same town and might recognize me on the street--to buy sex toys, but I won't call an 800 number to buy stuff that might take care of the grunge in my bathtub.

How twisted is that? Downright unamerican.

Anyway.

I went into the office yesterday, mostly to have lunch with my dad, who works for the same contracting company I do, for the same client on a different contract. He reported that "we" had been tasked with redesigning the web site that is my responsibility, so for a few hours yesterday, I thought my work lot was going to improve.

I was wrong. My boss called today and asked me a random question; he reported that yes, they're redoing some pages, but they have to be done by Friday. And the client doesn't really know what it wants. I have no choice but to go back to work for the Big Contracting Corporation (We're Number Three!) otherwise my health insurance company will bill me for everything they covered this summer, but... damn.

I really have to find a new job, a new contract, something.

2000-08-15, 14:17:31 comments (0)

before - after

.
. .
.