Bunch of Cowards
I need a new fucking job, I think. I definitely need a new fucking office.
Anybody who has seen Andy Richter Controls the Universe will appreciate what it's like for me to share an office with two other people. Every little quirk is magnified. My headphones are not loud enough to drown out the sound of one of them on the phone with the other. Nails on a chalkboard, sometimes.
Here's the problem with people who don't have the strength to stand on their own: they turn on you, very easily. There is a subtle shift in the atmosphere, and it occurs to me that I am, suddenly, the asshole in the situation. Funny, last week, everybody was complaining about **CB** while I assured them that she was really not all that bad. Today, no one talks to me. Cowards.
I'm not surprised, because I know that this is par for the course. Friends are easily replaced when you mostly rely on them just to be a person you can push around. Weak people are common enough.
Wes told me last night that he wished I had more friends. I'd have to agree. For me, that's a little tougher. I only work with 8 or 9 people, and I'm not friends with any of them. Some of them, I wouldn't want to be. Folks around here have callouses from stabbing people in the back so frequently.
It's not getting better.
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