do my best at work

and frankly, for what they’re paying me, that’s more than enough. :)

I was just sexually harassed.

No kidding.

I’m about to blow up.

Last Friday I really had a great day at work. I felt so motivated to do things! Made myself – and my employer – proud.

As soon as I walked in the door today, I was told that the newsroom secretary is out sick, as are two of our four reporters. Another reporter is taking her day off from working the weekend.

So that leaves me and an editor.

This is just freakin’ fantastic.

It’s noon on Thursday, and I’ve already worked 38 hours this week. I am exhausted, BUT I’m not giving up. I woke up early AGAIN (bleh), came into work and got right to it. I am owning this week whether it (and my body) likes it or not.

My coworker just put in his notice. Damn…You know what that means, right? That means Melissa is going to be carrying his part of the load until the big boss men decide to come off their checkbook and hire someone new. This happened to me before. About a year ago when another writer moved on, I was working at least 70 hours a week for almost two months straight. And then they hired this guy, who quit today.

I am really really not looking forward to this. I’ll be covering the schools, all 27 of them, AND the city beat (council meetings, board meetings and everything else that goes on with a city government). Maybe IF I survive I might possibly get a raise. I’m trying to look at this as a way to prove how valuable I am, and IF I survive, I’ll look pretty damn valuable.

I got to work on time after yet another night that went way too long, and I was doing fairly well with things. Then…well…I decided to take my lunch break and visit M at work. While there, a phone call with New Guy hurt my feelings, and I ended up at Garfield’s drinking Irish Car Bombs and Red Stripe for two hours. I’ve got about 4 and a half or 5 hours of work left, and I’m a little drunk, guys.

Nice…

It’s 7:25 a.m., and I’ve been at work for about 15 minutes. I have an interview at 8, and apparently when I wake up super-early, I get ready faster and make it to work in record time. Considering the fact that I didn’t get in bed until after 2 a.m., I think I’m doing pretty damn well today already.

For the past (almost) two years, I’ve worked my ass off for this paper. There’s one editor in particular that I’ve sold my soul for on numerous occasions. Anything he asked of me, I’d do without even really questioning it.

Today Melissa needed a favor, and Melissa got attitude. Joking (but in that “I’m joking, but I really mean it” kind of way) attitude.

Tomorrow New Guy is coming home. Tomorrow I will pick New Guy up at the airport. I’ve told my editor this for DAYS. “Hey, I’ll be working wonky hours on Thursday, so I can pick New Guy up at the airport.”

Tomorrow is a meeting that I always cover. With the airport trip, I can’t swing the meeting. People in the newsroom cover meetings for each other ALL THE DAMN TIME, but when I say, “Hey, I need someone to cover this meeting for me” I get this in response: “But that’s your beat. You should be the one doing that.”

What the hell?

I’m not doing it. This plan is set in stone, and that’s that. He finally told me he’d get someone else to do it (which won’t be hard, ‘cause I’ve already written stories on all the major issues they’ll be covering), but damn it, I’m MAD.

I’ve worked myself to the bone, and when I finally need a favor in return, it’s this HUGE deal.

I deserve better than this. I’ve worked too hard to be treated like I’m putting someone out by needing ONE LITTLE TINY FAVOR.

Today I will NOT do my best at work. I’ve been here for an hour, and I’m calling today in as a loss. They can deal with it.

13 hours yesterday. At least 13 hours today. It’s 8:30 a.m., and even though I’m not quite fully awake, I’m here. That has to count as a major effort, ‘cause it was, ‘cause I’m not a morning person, ‘cause I hate the sunshine.

Ahhh…morning time bitching…that’s my specialty.