A Working Girl's Woe

Bitchy sent the email below to a group of beloved friends this afternoon, and just now, on her way to bed, decided that she would share it on her blog. She decided this for 2 reasons. First, because she is aware of the fact that she has not blogged in a while, and is afraid that if she persists in being lazy, she is unlikely to ever blog again. And second, because she needs many hands on deck to help her deal with a very serious problem.

For the avoidance of confusion, you ought to know that Bitchy signed up 2 days ago as an "intern" with a leading literary agency in London. She was looking for something with which to pass the time between her sojourn in Lagos and her forthcoming globe-trotting stint. For 2 days, Bitchy has played the role of a receptionist whose activities include letting delivery men into the office building, answering the office telephone, trudging up 4 flights of stairs with a large sack of post in tow, replying to emails that the agents are too busy/irritated to respond to themselves, and standing at attention in anticipation of the arrival of clients before ushering them into the office and offering them cups of tea/coffee/poison.

This was not the role she signed up for when she filed her application. Bitchy was told by the lead agent that she would get the chance to read and edit manuscripts. Many, many manuscripts. That she would drown in stacks of them and retire home a happy bunny every day. But after her first 2 days, Bitchy finds that she is yet to come within even a hair's breath of a manuscript!

She has been deceived.

*Start of Email*

"This whole job thing is just turning into one terrible Ben Stiller-esque comedy show. First I'm getting tongue paralysis from stamp licking (I've worked out my own form of revenge though.... If an envelope I weigh needs 42p of stamps, I put a 50p stamp on it. Ha!) And then today, I got the brilliant news that this guy who works in the office next door (which for some reason keeps open the door it shares with us all the damn time) is coming back tomorrow, with his HUGE grumpy DOG!!!

Can you imagine???? And guess WHO sits beside the open shared door? ME!! I.e. Bitchy, who is TERRIFIED of dogs. I'm so scared. I've been praying all day for some kind of miracle. Please join me. I want the thing to drop dead over night.

What is wrong with these British people? A DOG in the office???? And they didn't even tell me about it when I applied!! I rejected another agency simply because they had a dog. And I hate how they act like you're some kind of gremlin from PLUTO if you say you're afraid of/ don't like dogs!!

I am MISERABLE!!!"

*End of Email*

Dear Blog Folk,

Please join Bitchy in praying for the infliction of a sudden and inexplicable but completely curable and easily treatable illness on said massive dog, which threatens to make her miserable experience even more miserable from tomorrow morning onwards. Apparently Dildo (that's not its real name, although it's similar enough) is an aggressive dog with a strong distrust for strangers. She is huge and barks like a lion. She is also the queen of the office and saunters from one corner to another unhindered. If opposed she has been known to growl and pounce. But, as Bitchy has been told, "she wouldn't hurt a fly" and her "pounces do not hurt"!!!

After the long consultation process with friends that ensued when the above-inserted email was sent, Bitchy decided that she will be leaving this job on Friday.

But first, there is the issue of the DOG to be dealt with.

Oh and before you go calling her a spoilt brat for the umpteenth time (*cough* Rukks), DID she mention that she isn't even being PAID by the agency for this slave labour?

***** UPDATE *****

Dildo is in the building. She arrived at 11am. So far she has done nothing but BARK ferociously at the poor office cleaner who through no fault of her own passed in front of Dildo's door a number of times whilst doing the vacuuming.

Bitchy has barricaded herself into her desk which, as she discovered, is high enough for Dildo the dog to crawl under if she so desires. Bitchy's dust bin, some lever arch files, and some cardboard boxes that she only just emptied as part of her post-sorting duties, have come in very handy.

Bitchy has also reported (subtly of course and in as non-whingey a form as she could manage) the gentleman whose dog Dildo is, to her boss. The gentleman refused to shut the shared door when Bitchy asked him to this morning. And so she went to the top!

The door is now shut, but Bitchy's barricade is still up. She is taking no chances.