Day 2. The words, "that's not my responsibility" make you want to fall down stairs and crack you forehead on the door-jam at the bottom. They make you raise your voice, flail your arms, cross your eyes and walk very quickly away from people. You especially hate these words at 8:10 in the morning, even after you've had the necessary java and pastry; they still make the devil inside un-exorcizable (nope not a word, but it's fun to say). When these words are said in front of your members it is beyond simile.
Guess what happened today? and you can't do a thing about it, because you are too hot over it. You’re afraid you will tell your coworker to fuck herself and that it's because of her that this job sucks ass some days, because she has a piss-poor attitude about teamwork and what it means to work in a clubhouse and that you wish she'd go back to the shelter she came crawled out of in New York.
To realize that this reaction would set a bad example, and that it isn't about you, it's about the members turn to page 12.
To lose your shit over something you can’t control, turn to page 17.
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