Dear all,
It is with regret I inform you that I no longer possess a life. Anything I do nowadays is linked to a "beep" or cutting something with a stanley knife. Either that, or operating some heavy cardboard-crunching machinery. I have got a job.
Getting up in the morning, either at 05.00 or 06.00 is all right. Getting cuts all over my hands is FINE. Eating bread with strawberry jam for dinner is nice. Not having a clue what the hell I am doing most of the time is ok. I could go on and on. But being supervised by a SWEDE? In Norway?!
No thank you. Fuck's sake.
Poléo
2 comments:
Mate...
That's terrible! At first I thought..nah It ain't that bad...
BUT THEN...I thought, what if I was working in PORTUGAL and a fucking SPANISH or GYPSIE or MORROCCAN was supervising me?!?!?!?!?!?! I can feel you now Poléo!
Damn...
Only advice I have for you Poléo is...give him hell man!
It's about competence. There are reasons to why Swedes are hired to supervised Norwegians. Apparently, there's no need for me to say this even.
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