Not being to access Blogger from work is killing me. I can't write. I can read other people's blogs, but only if I pull them up by name, or by typing the URLs. I can't comment or anything. I have to compete with Nate for time on the laptop, because technically it is his property.
What a week it was, too. I'm still having trouble with the truck. It's old, a 1990. It's been rear-ended, front-ended, T-boned, shot, and driven over 143,000 miles of bad road. I talked to Nate yesterday about visiting one of those "Your job is your credit" dealerships to see about getting a newer used car. Now that we're both working again, and he's got a shot at being picked up full-time, maybe we can get something. We're not looking for anything fancy. A Saturn, or an older Focus; we'd like something in the 30mpg range.
On top of my vehicular troubles, work has taken a turn for the strange. I got written up for something that didn't happen at all the way it's described in the write-up. I was told that if a similar situation occurs in the future, I'll be terminated for cause. The GM's wrath has not been limited to me. There are angry memos posted in every staff space: the front office, the staff break area, the kitchen, laundry room. Every free space has a tirade devoted to whatever department it's posted in. Our manager has been harsh since she arrived. She warned us that she would be stern, but fair. In the last few weeks, fair has taken a holiday.
I got a call from a friend, and in the course of conversation I realized that I haven't been out en femme since May. There hasn't been any further discussion regarding my transition, and in the current climate, I'm not sure I should discuss it. I find myself regretting that I told the GM that transgendered employees aren't covered by current EEOC guidelines.