I've been grumping about my senior vet being a moron for the last couple of days. Well, more than I usually do. She doesn't seem to be able to wrap her head around the concept that even though we only work out of ours, nights, weekends and bank holidays, the rota still has to be drawn up fairly. Having children does *not* give you special powers of not having to work this or that day. If you ask nicely, some people might be willing to switch shifts with you so you can have the days off, but none of us get to say we're simply not working any given day. Everyone draws the short stick occasionally, that's the way it is. If you don't like it, you work in day practice where you get bank holidays off. Grrr. Argh.
This in addition to the thousand other small things that make me want to smash her head against a wall in the hopes it might rattle something in her brain and start her *thinking*.
At least I like her well enough as a person. But oh hell, how I wish to work with someone who actually uses their brain occasionally.
I think I might need to invest in a free standing punching bag at some point. Too much grumbling about people being stupid makes me punch walls and that leaves dents. Not good for my security deposit.
I opened this window because I wanted to talk about Little Hissy, the cat that I've been given to look after (much to Tiny's confusion) but talk about being angry and wanting to punch things will have to do for now.
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