Holy crap, work is hard

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Three days into it and I’m ready for the weekend.

I’ve blistered up my toes with uncomfortable, but fashionable shoes. I’ve arrived on time, every day. I’ve worn make-up and combed my hair. I’ve read through previous presentations, sat in meetings, reconnected with colleagues. I’ve had lunch. I’ve told stories. I’ve walked through every floor of each building.

I’m tired. No, exhausted. Mentally spent. Physically in pain. Figuring out who’s, who and what’s what is like playing Sudoku for 8 hours straight. I can’t wait to sleep in on Saturday. Ah, Saturday.

I could, possibly, call in sick tomorrow. Okay, maybe not all day. Half day? Half of a Thursday is not bad. It’s just my first week. I haven’t been there long enough to be missed.

I guess I should just suck it up and go.

Even if I had the gall to call in sick, I couldn’t. I haven’t memorized anyone’s extension yet.

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