Well, I started my new job today.
I'm already wondering at my options. Can I get a chit in to go back to the fleet or should I just take a gun to my head and finsh myself off while I can still feel some vestige of happiness at my former freedoms?
Today I was given my own cubical. My own little space in a windowless room with 2 computer screens that I could call my own for the next three years. In this space I will, from 7 AM to 3 PM Monday through Friday cut pictures, sound, and text files out of an old format of computer based learning and paste them into the new, Windows XP compatable version. I will not think, I will not be allowed an origional though or action or freedom. I will simply cut and paste, cut and paste cut and paste cut and pastecutandpaste until one day approximately 6 months from now when I'll snap and run accross the hall to throw myself out of one of the 4th floor windows in a cheap attempt at suicide.
I even got a boss that is a personality carbon copy of what-his-nuts from Office Space, complete with the "Yeaahh"s and "MmmmKay"s in his monologue. I know because I FUCKING COUNTED THEM. Holy fucking hell. How the FUCK did I get stationed to the Naval version of Corporate America? I could have handled teaching. I'd had 5 months to gear up to it. I'm not sure I'll be able to adapt to this one.
A FUCKING CUBICAL FOR CHRISTS SAKE
FUCK
People, please tell me its gonna be ok. Cause if I don't find a bright side to this development soon I may be coming home on a dishonorable with a fucking blunt in my hand. Fast food manager would have to be better than living in a three walled prison for the next three years
I'm already wondering at my options. Can I get a chit in to go back to the fleet or should I just take a gun to my head and finsh myself off while I can still feel some vestige of happiness at my former freedoms?
Today I was given my own cubical. My own little space in a windowless room with 2 computer screens that I could call my own for the next three years. In this space I will, from 7 AM to 3 PM Monday through Friday cut pictures, sound, and text files out of an old format of computer based learning and paste them into the new, Windows XP compatable version. I will not think, I will not be allowed an origional though or action or freedom. I will simply cut and paste, cut and paste cut and paste cut and pastecutandpaste until one day approximately 6 months from now when I'll snap and run accross the hall to throw myself out of one of the 4th floor windows in a cheap attempt at suicide.
I even got a boss that is a personality carbon copy of what-his-nuts from Office Space, complete with the "Yeaahh"s and "MmmmKay"s in his monologue. I know because I FUCKING COUNTED THEM. Holy fucking hell. How the FUCK did I get stationed to the Naval version of Corporate America? I could have handled teaching. I'd had 5 months to gear up to it. I'm not sure I'll be able to adapt to this one.
A FUCKING CUBICAL FOR CHRISTS SAKE
FUCK
People, please tell me its gonna be ok. Cause if I don't find a bright side to this development soon I may be coming home on a dishonorable with a fucking blunt in my hand. Fast food manager would have to be better than living in a three walled prison for the next three years