Wednesday, March 13, 2002

It's hot out there. Scorching. Burning. It's the Nine Hells all rolled into one. It's stepping out right smack into the middle of the Sahara on a bright sunny afternoon. The heat falls on you like a sledgehammer, and Mr. Disgruntled Employee who was bitching about error messages suddenly became Mr. Heat Exhausted It Is So Hot I Am About To Die.

In a fit of heat-induced insanity, I went to bitch to the new QA senior ( recently promoted from the Global Services department ) just across the aisle about how I resigned because certain parties in the company wanted to get me fired. She assured me that there was no such conspiracy behind locked office doors, and then went on to further aggravate my anxieties by revealing to me her knowledge of my name and my impending resignation.

I don't care if she's freckled eye candy for the bosses, someone here did have my name on the termination list. Those damn bastards. As if I'm not paranoid enough. I'm going to steal her blue little Elmo, cut its stomach open with my handy switchblade, spill its whitish cotton guts all over her table and crucify the leftovers ( skin and eyes ) on her monitor. That'll teach them to mess with a brooding programmer with homicidal tendencies.

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