Whaaat

Mr Prettyboy once told me that irregardless of my stress level, I should take it in stride, and learn to compose a smile so that I don't affect the team. My retort was, it is easier said than done, hmmph, since the crap is dumped on me, not him, and I am the poor soul who is expected to finish sweeping it, in record time, no less.

In my defense, I also must state that everyone has a temper, and yet I am already trying my best to suppress it. But when the focus is on the completion of projects, and bosses' expectation that things gets completed with a nonchalant swing of a magic wand, I cant help it that my smile is no longer stapled to my face, and a determined frown took over instead.

These days, Mr Prettyboy's default expression for me is an impatient scowl, completed with a tsk, or a "Whaaat". Notice the lack of question mark in the "what"? That is exactly his tone, droning the single syllabus, with no interest whatsoever to answer my question.

Which is fine with me. Go ahead, don't answer! I'll read tea leaves in my cup and I'm sure I'll have a solution in no time.



So when I am stressed I'm expected to swallow the pain whole, and chase it with plenty of cigarette breaks (which now replace the bottles of vile of their positions in my life). When he is stressed, he has all the right to take it out on me. Our relationship between one and other in this office, is slowly spiraling out of control. Mr Prettyboy used to be my Hercules at work, where I can safely depend on him when things goes wrong.

Now? I'm extremely blessed if he would express a notch of interest in the shit pit I am treading in. But no luck. Actually I should be glad he is not spitting into this pit. What more can I ask for?