Monday, October 04, 2004

One milllllllllion dollars

It's like the final scene of a James Bond film. All the super villain's accomplices and assistants are hanging around, looking smug, preparing to lower Bond and blonde into a tank full of raging laser-guided mutant atomic robotic pirhanna sharks when, instead of sharing in super villain's wealth and power, the accompliaces and assistants get gunned down by their insane boss.

And as they die of their wounds they must think "well, what did I really expect, he is an evil villain after all".

I have no life. I go to work, I come back, I go to bed. Too much work. Sob sob sob. But this is an investment bank, should I be really surprised? Dammit yes, I should, it's them who are always sending around leaflets about work-life balance. What life?

People say "delegate". Delegate? To whom? They're already working their socks off and I can't insist they stay an extra couple of hours.

Am cross. Have to pick up support for another system. Have been politically outmanouevered (i.e. I have been told by my boss's boss's boss to do it, so am short of options).

Trying to do the losing gracefully thing. Not very successful. Where's a raging laser-guided mutant atomic robotic pirhanna shark when you need one?

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