If I ever had any doubts about leaving this place they called 'work', those doubts are gone. I came in this morning to be told by my General Manager that last night I left a dirty plate on my desk.
(You see, yesterday lunchtime I had a toasted sandwich. I didn't have time to remove the plate and take it back to the kitchen, so I left it there, unwittingly.)
GM felt that it was SO fucking important, and such an act of god knows what the fuck he thinks it is in his tiny little brain, that it was the first thing he said to me this morning. He pointed at the crust on the plate with disgust, and then looked at me like I was a cretin.
It's made me realise that this hell hole is actually run like a school. The GM is an ex-copper who clearly shouldn't be working in any position that has to do with HR, and I can't wait to get out of here. Oh fuck please let me get out of here...
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