Its official...

...I've become a stereotypical passive-aggressive Icelander.

For years now, one of my biggest pet peeves, right up there with the inability to plan or design anything in an even remotely pragmatic manner, has been Icelanders' tendency to smile to your face and then bitch behind your back.

Now I know this is a universal constant, but it seems considerably more pronounced over here on the Lava Lump. I've often found myself stomping on toes by actually taking things up with the people involved rather than going to the boss (or the boss's boss) behind their back.

Remember last week, when I was sick on Monday and my boss randomly accused me of being hungover?

I was planning to continue my ongoing rant about the deplorable state of Rvk's public spaces as I walked to work, but almost immediately on arrival, my boss, Satana The Sulphuric Mistress of Evil, sends me an SMS which translated to "Goddamn it, why are you always lazy and fucking hungover on Mondays!"

Now leaving off the that it is, in fact Tuesday, it is the first day of the work week. But WHAT THE GREAT SODOMIZING HELL!?!?!?!?

Apparently my boss had received an SMS from Robert, the new guy, stating that he couldn't make it this morning but would show up at the usual time. Bitch Boss thought this was me copping out again and sent the SMS of Doom.

That fucking pyscho hag can go swivel on it!

I work 70%. 70-fucking-percent and I'm still there at least 8 hours a week more than she is! And she's supposedly on full-time!

And when I'm there, I do my damned job. I come up with fun projects for the kiddies, an activity all-too-often hampered by Little Miss Tardy who is the only one who can BUY THE FUCKING SUPPLIES, not to mention that she TAKES THE FUCKING WORK COMPUTER WITH HER leaving me without means to print out schedules, email co-workers, and all the other things I have to do because she's NOT THERE!

Which is why most of the projects I've come up with are made from free/scavenged materials.

I also ACTUALLY INTERACT WITH THE KIDS, which includes playing, bandaging (our play ground is a fucking death trap), comforting and disciplining the little munchkins. She's so fucking behind on paper work that she hardly ever leaves the office. Except, that is, when she leaves the office...to go off and do more important things, like kiss up to the folks at ITR and weasel her way up the bureaucratic backside with her feet firmly planted on MY HARD WORK!

But I miss one fucking Monday and I'm a lazy drunk that deserves a dressing down by her parasitic ass?!?!

I may not be the most energetic worker on Mondays, true.

Typical Monday starts out with me walking 4km to work at 7:20 in the morning so as to get there by ten til 8 (an hour and 10 minutes before Her Satanic Majesty is even supposed to show up, IF SHE SHOWS UP AT ALL) and then either working out and playing with 5 classes worth of kiddies (with very limited break time as I'm also expected to walk them from the gym to the school and clean up the locker-rooms as well) or walking the routes they are supposed to run, in order to keep an I on them. The last time I did this I wound up walking 16km before noon.

So maybe Monday afternoons I tend to be a bit slow. AT LEAST I'M THERE! And for the record: I have never, not once, NOT FUCKING ONCE shown up to this job hungover.

Bitch can burn in hell.


But did I tell her any of this? Did I make a stand for my dignity and all that other good shit. Nope. Cause I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be having to spend the day with that insane bloodsucking parasite leach harpy COW if she knew just how pissed off I was.

I'm almost disgusted with how Icelandic of me the whole thing was.

But fuck it.

That's two strikes. One more and I'M out. No warning, no notice, I will just walk the hell out of that place and never look back.

Fuck.

That might be what it takes to make her do her own damn job...