Please fire me. Every morning the pilgrimage to the metro starts with an empty stomach and a march alongside thousands of equally condemned lemmings and eunuchs of a working fate. Like zombies praying for death, thousands of people march through the station with faces exuding expressions of hopes and dreams that had been murdered by life.
And here’s my real problem, the goddamn law office I worked in. It was the largest law firm in the country. And no, I am not a lawyer. I was a PR and internal communications Director at my age of 27. It is the most bulls#*t profession I can imagine. It’s basically selling other people’s vanity at the expense of your time, effort and nerves. Those buggers at the top were never in the office to give me the information I needed to promote them and their frickin’ company, nobody cared to explain what they even wanted and every effort I made at initiative was rewarded with accusatory glances of “Why the hell are you working?”
When initiative in the professional field is not being rewarded, but scolded and frowned upon, all that remains is to beg to be fired.