Double pleh.
I am in a foul mood because my job is irritating me. I don’t know if I was cut out for customer service. I like the part of my job where I just sit by myself and work on stuff without anyone pestering me. All this trying-to-please-everybody-all-the-time is exhausting. A little bit ago someone made a very thinly veiled threat to go over my head because I wouldn’t do something for him that was really unreasonable.
I talked to my boss about it, and he agrees that it was an unreasonable request. So why don’t you just go ahead and try to rat me out, Mr. Man!
Pleh. Pleh.
Update, several hours later: my boss came in and said, “Fifty-five minutes.” I said, “Fifty-five minutes of what?” It turns out Mr. Man called my boss and talked to him for 55 minutes. I said, “Am I fired?” My boss assured me that I am not. But then he had to run off to somewhere else that the 55-minute phone call made him late for, so I didn’t get the rest of the story.
I can see how it’s going to turn out. I’m going to have a conversation with my boss that is mostly supportive, but with a mild scolding for allowing my irritation with a customer to show. So it goes.
Take a deep breath. You are the best of this lot. In 10 years, you will be writing wonderful prose for a living, and indirectly telling them all when to jump and how high.