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2001-08-11-7:55 p.m. The stage is set for �Revenge of the Prot�g� Yesterday, upon my arrival at work, I was greeted with several versions of how the events of the day before had gone over with my prot�g�. I expected her to be unhappy about my reluctance to let her continue to leech away at my cerebral matter until my once robust brain began to resemble a peach pit. I expected her to talk with the supervisor about the short shrift I had given her. I was not, however, prepared for her to take her grievances out on my poor assistant, or threaten to monitor the amount of time I spend helping another coworker and whether the treatment he receives is different from that she received. Granted, the person in question does ask me a lot of questions but, to his credit, they are not always the same question. My prot�g� is on the four-day work schedule but in her undying quest to annoy me, she came in yesterday for overtime. Nary a word passed between us, although I couldn�t help but notice her incessant riffling through her �resources� (picture reams of disorganized print-outs kept expressly for �all future inquiries�). To my way of thinking, it was the perfect workday. Life is grand. **Disclaimer: All characters in this diary are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, real or imagined, is purely coincidental and unintentional.** |
