i am my own worst enemy

And that's all I have to say about that.

I woke up this morning at 8:35am and had to be at work on the desk at 9am. I made it. Barely. And that was only because Peter woke me up and said "It's 8:35. Don't you have to work at 9?" He made me coffee as I threw myself together. Needless to say, I am having a day.

I've been wearing my name tag all of 3 days and the number of people who find it necessary to refer to me by my name is astounding. I don't know you. You don't know me. The name tag is here to provide me with a sense of accountability, to allow you to remember me in case my service is substandard or--and I know this ain't gonna happen--in case you happen to want to tell my supervisor how fabulous I am. I know you're probably just being friendly and I just have to get over it. I hate this stupid name tag.

I also hate drunk assholes who call me Jeanine Garofalo based only on the fact that I happen to be wearing glasses and have darkish hair.

Today I'm not terribly fond of other people's insecurities, other people's successes, mindless chit chat, people who come to work even though they're obviously really sick, talking about the weather, pushy women from Park Township who can't understand how I haven't read Karen Kingsbury yet because she's sooooo good, jerks who teach their 4 year old daughters it's acceptable behavior to be mean to a clerk in an attempt to get out of paying an overdue fine that is completely legitimate, coworkers who think they get to pick and choose what they are responsible for based on how much they feel like doing a task at any given time, teenage girls, teenage boys, screaming toddlers, snotty fifth graders, men who scan their own library cards, women who answer their cellphones while I'm attempting to complete a transaction, and the smell of something on the verge of burning wafting up from the cafe right now.

Aren't you glad you don't have to be around me today?