Jobber's Remorse

This morning I arrived at work to find my boss attempting to clean his coffee maker (which, for my super-inept boss, involved him dabbing at the inside of the machine a couple of times before handing the now wet, coffee-ground covered paper towel over to me and telling me to finish the task).  Actually I honestly can't even figure out how he managed to get the thing dirty to begin with - the machine comes standard with a self-cleaning capability.  

And that's pretty much all I've done all day.  My job requires very little of me actually doing anything, so I usually spend the majority of the day reading online - I've learned that as long as I'm staring at my computer, it will at least look as though I'm doing something valuable with my time, even if I am just rereading Harry Potter for the umpteenth time on some random website that should probably be shut down for pirating the books, or blogging here, because I’ve made it a rule that I will only blog about how much I hate my job while I’m sitting here at my job (ironic, right?).

Actually, I also picked up lunch for the office today on Miss Bitch's orders.  Miss Bitch, the Executive Assistant here (and no I won't give you her real name, although if you're really dying to give her a name you can call her Lauren), absolutely loves to tell me to go pick up lunch whenever our PA - who is perhaps the only person in this office with a title smaller than my own lowly "Receptionist" one - is out on an errand.  I swear I can actually see this sort of manic gleam light up in her eyes every time she saunters over to my desk, looking ridiculously similar to a kindergarten teacher in one of her Ann Taylor meets Chicos high-waisted-skirt-with-a-frumpy-looking-button-down-shirt-tucked-in outfits and says “Ummmmmm…Stacy?  Could you like go pick up lunch?  Like now.”  Then as an afterthought: “Please.”  And then she saunters off again.

And, although she is arguably the most annoying person to listen to here at the office, I can hardly complain, because picking up lunch means getting out from behind this desk, and when you’re sitting at a desk all day from 9-6 with nothing to do except read Harry Potter or make a blog that no one will ever read, you jump at the chance to get the hell out of here.

You know that feeling of Buyer's Remorse you get after purchasing something you weren't sure you really wanted?  That's how I feel about my job, only its nonreturnable, so I'm screwed.