I’ve spent the last week pissed off and exhausted about something I felt was out of my control. I mean, I could have gone the route of “no means no” but instead it became a “sure, I’ll bend over, grab ankles and take it dry.”
Salvation just arrived, I think, anyway. I’m a happy girl. I’m certain that chaos will ensue, but the message I was getting before versus the message I’m getting now are drastically different. And the former had to go away for me to even consider NOT taking my little red stapler and, well, stapling my brains to a wall.
I’m putting my foot down right this instant that I’m not going to get into that kind of a situation again. My lifelong goal is to be too rich to have to work for a living. Till then, the interim goal is to work less and produce more somehow. Top performers can probably get away with more; I’ve never once taken advantage of my own fabulousness. Damn it. I need to figure out how to make more money, both for the company AND myself, and I think I’ll solve this post-quarterlife and pre-midlife crisis that’s been ailing me.