I haven't written much about my job lately. It's been a real struggle since November - when my new boss arrived on the scene - and like most unpleasant things I chose to deal with it by blocking it out of my mind, let alone writing about it. In the last three months my presence at work has added no value, has perhaps even subtracted some, and yesterday the house of cards finally came down when both the head of department and the Aitch Arr manager had a word with me. I could see it coming a mile off to be honest. I stayed until after seven last night and started an hour early this morning to meet a deadline but the work I produced was total crap. Two days after moving into my flat, the timing isn't great. There were no written warnings or anything like that yesterday, but the clock is definitely ticking and I'm now trying to buy some time.
I did tell both managers that I was unwell but I didn't elaborate. I've got a doctor's appointment at 1pm tomorrow - my medication needs to be seriously looked at. To add insult to injury I've picked up a cold, probably from one of my work colleagues.
I saw this interesting piece in today's Dom Post about talented people (like Amy Winehouse and Whitney Houston) who throw it all away, including eventually their lives. The last two paragraphs about the author's grandmother were particularly good to read.