You’ve heard of being hangry, haven’t you? That devilish occurrence of hunger making you angry and irritable?
Well I’m FRangry. Frustrated and angry.
“Why?” you ask. Hang on to your hats, dear readers, and I will explain (read: rant)
I have 12 days left in this job. 12 days before I get to walk out of this behemoth of an office and not have to come back unless it’s under my own terms. (For the avoidance of doubt, my own terms include lunch with former colleagues, in my capacity as a consultant, or to do photocopying – ok, maybe not the last one). 12 days.
Bearing that in mind, you’d think that my current emotions would be oscillating between ecstatic and oh-my-god thrilled.
Not the case.
I’m bored, angry, frustrated, jaded, cynical, bitchy, depressed. I have nothing to do, and no desire to find myself work to do (12 days people!) and so I sit here day in, day out, getting bored. Boredom leads to anger and frustration. Why wouldn’t someone give me some work to do! Do I have to put up with 12 days of this? This, in turn, leads to cynicism and a jaded outlook on my colleagues and the work I’ve spent the last 8 years doing. Well obviously they’re not giving me anything to do. I only have 12 days left here. It’s not like they need to get me to do a handover or anything, they don’t think the job I’ve been doing needs one. But maybe I should do a handover anyway? Naaa, why bother, they won’t use it. It’ll just sit somewhere, gathering metaphorical dust.
This attitude leads me to bitchiness. I pick at everything around me. I refuse to be enthusiastic about projects, about my colleague’s work. I sit, sulking at my desk. And that leads me feel depressed. I berate myself constantly for not being me. For not knuckling down and getting on with things. For being so lazy. For slacking off. For not.
And it’s a perpetual spiral of frangriness.
And I’m fed up of it.
12 more days.