Stomping

I stomped into the house after a long day of working at the library.  I knew why I was irritated, but there were too many problems for me to solve in one day.  All I wanted was for the managers to do their jobs, but apparently that was too much to ask.  Today they had managed to hit a new high and I’m not sure there was any going back. 

All I needed to do was to find a way to make them see what I saw on a regular basis.  As I put what was leftover from lunch back into the fridge, I began to plan my revenge.  As I plotted and planned, my coworkers faces came and went.   

I knew I had what it took to defend myself and my coworkers.  I knew my mental health would improve the more answers I got, but I also knew if my colleagues were happier, I would be happier as well.  As I started dinner, I began to plot my revenge.  Revenge against ‘the man’ as my coworkers liked to call it. 

I knew a cople of well-timed emails would do wonders in terms of how the managers would respond.  When I finally sat down to send the email I had crafted in my head, I screamed.  Screamed with joy that I was fired and now could live my life.   

Then I came to the horrible realization it was all just a dream.  And I hadn’t even gotten out of bed.