Once again, I am called upon to produce a fully-developed technical proposal THE FUCKING DAY BEFORE it is due. In my industry, the timelines are sometimes short, but the brain-donor who sits behind the mahogany desk in the fancy upstairs office has had this tender wedged up her arse since last month. Maybe she expected me to know by osmosis or geomancy or Fast Radio Burst that she wanted my help, because actual instructions appear to be a bridge too far.
When she finally decided to pull it out, she realised that it was due tomorrow and sent me a frantic message last night. I let it go to voicemail, because I was off the clock by then and I don’t get paid enough to put up with after-hours office horseshit.
To be honest, I don’t know why I’m annoyed. This happens so regularly; it may as well be in my job description.
