The Devil Wears Batik

Quote of the day: When I say I eat grass, I mean you. You eat the grass, not I eat you.

I'm working part time now in one of my college's departments. I never wanted to work for the money, but for the experience. Let me tell you something, the experience isn't that good at all.

My boss a.k.a Devil, is horrifically wrapped in Batik, which does not hide her most unsightly appendages. Not only does she have a flair for picking fabric and design (sarcasm anyone?), she has unbearable perspectives which I am finding to be most irritating and annoying. I, being a good worker, said nothing, which is quite conflicting with my paradoxical attitude. But she's the boss, what can I say?

I recently watched the movie 'The Devil Wears Prada', which is, by the way, a very good movie. Not only has the movie been enjoyable, it has also sparked a light in my heart, blazing the trails to the right track. Yes, I am talking about quitting my job.

The movie wasn't the only catalyst. There was this one time when I was with the Devil in the office when we were looking through the part-timers' file. When she came across Mr. S's (you know who you are) application form and I told her that he is now working in a different department, she practically rumpled the form and threw it over her shoulder. OMFGWTFBBQ! It took lots of resilience for me to not quit at that exact moment (but when I look back on that moment, I should have).

There was also the moment where she said, and I quote, "Let me teach you more things. When you can do more things, you can work longer and make more money." This really took the cake, a dung cake that is. I mean, who does she take me for? A money-minded freak? Another time, she told me off for talking on my handphone to Ms. C (you know who you are) about formal operations. Apparently, she doesn't want others to see me talking on the phone and not doing work, although she was oblivious to my still packing files when I was on the phone. Blind Devil?

One more thing, she has social anxiety. The signs are there. She has to plaster the clear-view parts of her cubicle because she can't stand people staring at her. There was this one time where she was fearful for an entire day because there was a newspaper with a man on it, his eyes intent on the Devil. No wonder she treats people like dogs. Or like dog-like humans, at least.

At current time, she is pilling more responsibilities on me, hoping I will become her right hand man. My patience is tested too far, but my loyalty is still rubberily elastic. The paradox is here, and I become a more confused man. What should I do? Quit? Continue?

I know that 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. But if my principles are being tread on, shouldn't the best choice be...

Discuss. Help the poor lad.