Work has hit a new low. There are no cool managers anymore. I work nine days in a row, close shift. Even though I get off early, I don't ever feel like doing anything when I get home. It takes at least an hour to pick myself up off the sofa. It's odd, though - I don't feel like this all the time. I don't even feel like this half the time. Only after I work.
My eyes look different. They look...more shallow, if that makes sense.
However, because of my friends, I'm doing just fine now.
To Mr. Brown, Mr. Wallace, Mr. Chestnut, and last but not least, Ms. Eubanks:
You kids make me laugh. And that means a lot right now. Thanks.
Counting down the days until I can put in my 2 weeks notice: 7.