I finally quit my job yesterday. The same company Priss used to work for when she still lived here. Screw the two weeks notice, I gave them an hour…
Nearly a year and a half of bustin’ my balls for them and nothing to show for it. No raise. No evaluation after your first three month probation. No pat on the back “nice work.” Not even a “go fuck yourself.”
I was the only goddamn typesetter and graphic artist that shithole had for over a year. Now they hire this limp wrist primadonna and throw him on salary with a dumbass title. “Image Consultant.” All of a sudden it’s Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Bring in the Image Consultant. WTF? Well…his orientation is questionable, despite his proclamations to the contrary.
Then I get “the owner doesn’t want you spending too much time on the computer doing layouts. They hired 2 graphic artists at the Honolulu shop to do all the typesetting.” I then promptly get two layout jobs dropped in my lap by my manager.
I don’t think he was to happy when I told him that I can’t do it seeing as I was not supposed to be the typesetter due to the new graphics artist at the other store. Especially since he promised them we’d get the jobs done in the same day. Wonder if they ever got done.
Good riddance Island Printing Centers. Thanks for nothing.
Damn it feels good. Think I’ll just drink some beer.
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