As the stomach churns...
Mar. 16th, 2004 05:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lavandarlizard2All the way home from work - which took an hour and seventeen minutes, what with getting gas (price is *down* to $2.079) and stopping at the grocery - I debated whether or not to do this. It kinda comes under the heading of 'most likely should be kept personal' but I'm a little afraid its going to fester if I don't deal with it.
Important fact to know up-front: I have PTSD, courtesy of the Husband From Hell.
Now, on with our story- um... rant.
One of the supervisors at work got into it today with the production manager. They decided to take it to their boss, the new tech director. By an uncomfortable chance, tech guy is still crouching on the lily pad next to mine, since the out-going TD isn't quite gone yet.
Thunder of cloven hooves up the back stairs from the warehouse; door flung open with enough force to make the pneumatic closer squeal; rumbling snarls down the corridor behind me, then everything stops at the cube next to mine. They immediately launch into their 'he said-he said' dance, getting louder with each charge and counter-charge.
TD - who by the way is a complete and utter wuss - goes for conciliatory noises, while the two pissing dogs just get louder and louder.
At the first slam of the door, I about jumped out of my chair. By the time I realised they were crowding my corridor (hah! some corridor; stacked with boxes that would give the fire marshall indigestion) they had *crowded* my corridor, and I was stuck in my cube. I immediately began hyperventilating, but quietly; didn't want them to notice and turn on me.
At five minutes, I gave serious thought to climbing over the partition and hiding under the fax machine. The production manager had reached the point of howling that he was a *manager* goddammit, and the supervisor had better respect him! He has *power*!
Still nothing helpful from the TD. He's just making 'now-now' noises.
Just at the point where I'm about to either chew my way through the partition or scream, I hear the Voice of God, the VP who runs the facility.
All he said was, "Do I need to come back there?"
Dead silence.
Suddenly, TD manages to get his balls strapped on, and he's herding the combatants down the corridor, out the door and halfway down the back stairs.
And I realise that I'm about a heartbeat away from tears. I could have kissed the VP, which would have been *really* embarrassing.
Anyway, it's been over three hours since that happened, and I'm still feeling that adrenalin flutter under my ribs. Not to mention the utter disgust with myself at having let it get to me. It's been seven years, dammit; I oughta be over it by now!
I just hate that he can still screw with my head, from a distance.
Won't be sleeping much tonight; guess that means more writing will get done. You may consider this a good thing...
Shit, I wish I could drink.
*sigh*
Important fact to know up-front: I have PTSD, courtesy of the Husband From Hell.
Now, on with our story- um... rant.
One of the supervisors at work got into it today with the production manager. They decided to take it to their boss, the new tech director. By an uncomfortable chance, tech guy is still crouching on the lily pad next to mine, since the out-going TD isn't quite gone yet.
Thunder of cloven hooves up the back stairs from the warehouse; door flung open with enough force to make the pneumatic closer squeal; rumbling snarls down the corridor behind me, then everything stops at the cube next to mine. They immediately launch into their 'he said-he said' dance, getting louder with each charge and counter-charge.
TD - who by the way is a complete and utter wuss - goes for conciliatory noises, while the two pissing dogs just get louder and louder.
At the first slam of the door, I about jumped out of my chair. By the time I realised they were crowding my corridor (hah! some corridor; stacked with boxes that would give the fire marshall indigestion) they had *crowded* my corridor, and I was stuck in my cube. I immediately began hyperventilating, but quietly; didn't want them to notice and turn on me.
At five minutes, I gave serious thought to climbing over the partition and hiding under the fax machine. The production manager had reached the point of howling that he was a *manager* goddammit, and the supervisor had better respect him! He has *power*!
Still nothing helpful from the TD. He's just making 'now-now' noises.
Just at the point where I'm about to either chew my way through the partition or scream, I hear the Voice of God, the VP who runs the facility.
All he said was, "Do I need to come back there?"
Dead silence.
Suddenly, TD manages to get his balls strapped on, and he's herding the combatants down the corridor, out the door and halfway down the back stairs.
And I realise that I'm about a heartbeat away from tears. I could have kissed the VP, which would have been *really* embarrassing.
Anyway, it's been over three hours since that happened, and I'm still feeling that adrenalin flutter under my ribs. Not to mention the utter disgust with myself at having let it get to me. It's been seven years, dammit; I oughta be over it by now!
I just hate that he can still screw with my head, from a distance.
Won't be sleeping much tonight; guess that means more writing will get done. You may consider this a good thing...
Shit, I wish I could drink.
*sigh*
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-17 07:35 pm (UTC)And mellow writing is just as good as angsty writing... ^^;