Une quiche nommée loally

My brand new professional environment. Large pink walls surrounding me with colleagues with a fixed smile, most of them wearing high school frustrated clothes. A smell of essential oil in the air…

A new décor quite apocalyptic. A nursery for adults. A kindergarten for grown-up species.

The time of the crisis beat the crap out of me.

This morning, Colleen (a face as pale as a Swedish butt, red lips, a morbid and empty look), came out of the governor’s desk cat flat.

She directly pounced around the area and simulated narcissism and a fake power she only reflected to herself.

“Jill, Sabrina, Sharon, kassie (all looking like Drizella and Anastasia), would you come and hold my hand and have a coffee with me?”

They all rushed suddenly, pushed one another, lifted violently their hair, and stepped on the others. They waxed Colleen’s deer shoes, brushed Colleen’s shaved head, and filed her forgeries nails. Everything Colleen said seemed to be as funny as all the laughter was fake.

Well, a rise of 30 dollars a month shouldn’t be negligible and why not wasting an hour drinking coffee as soon as all those poor girls got to work, and an hour in the middle of the morning, and another hour after lunch, and another one before leaving work.

And, this little mouse needed for sure, some company, at least at her workplace.

Jill, the favourite, took the control when Colleen was busy for hours with J.T. (the governor). Did I write hours? Yes. One have to say that spending hours under a desk was long enough for any mission. When I think she always said she was “the boss because she knew everything…” :-D

That new job got the shit out of me. I had to cooperate and everybody knows that wasn’t my intention at all. Thus, I have to survive and end the mission I came here for, in this terrible atmosphere.

I had to tolerate silly chats about fashion, have a coffee per day with Cinderella’s sisters, stop smoking and save 5 minutes per official break, to save earing pollution, and for some dark reason, I caught a discussion about their past STDs.

Then I asked myself  “but…what do we do, in here?”

Apparently, I’ve said it loudly and somebody I had never seen (he was working!) answered me. “It depends. You know, we have a lot to do in here, but you still have the choice: drink coffee and lick a Swedish ass or work but if you do so, you can forget about any wage rise, days offs on Christmas Eve or gain some respect from your hierarchy.”

My mission was over and a sad reality came to my mind about this stupid crisis.

Looking for work was hard enough and more difficult than working is such an agency, for instance.

Work in here was to lack of respect, take advantage of their employers and advocate idleness.

At least in here, they would need me!