This is a whacky and crazy story about that fun and cool moment when you’re fighting back an anxiety attack and you squeeze your eyes shut to yell at your brain quietly and the song thats playing literally goes “nothing’s gonna hurt me with my eyes shut” and then you cry and have the anxiety attack anyway. The end.

Straight people are scary. No, this three-year-old boy didn’t say “your skirt is pretty” to a 40-year-old woman because he’s a “womaniser”, and a grownup man asking a kindergarten teacher if his son can “hold her naked titty during naptime” isn’t cute.

Let’s not even mention that I’m doing two jobs at once and I’m behind terribly with both of them. I’m not trying to save my skin, I should’ve double-checked before I registered those days but cut me some slack here, I’m overworked and underpaid, I’m not surprised that I made a mistake. I’ve been making several mistakes, actually, because I just have so little time for everything. I’m still finishing last month’s work while I have shit to do with deadlines this week.

I fucked up, a lot :’)
So I’m responsible for the paperwork of our manual workers aaaand every time someone’s on a day off or is sick or is away without permission we have to register that in a software that will calculate their salary based on that. Obviously a sick leave doesn’t get as much money as being on holiday does, and you don’t get money at all if you’re away without permission.

We have two workers with similar names that I always mix up, and they’re similarly problematic, one’s on sick leave all the time and the other is away without permission all the time. Sick leave gets money, missing work doesn’t.

And of course I registered the no-pay days for the one who was on sick leave, so she’s gonna get less money now because I fucked up.

I’m of course terribly ashamed and I feel like I’m going to throw up and have a panic attack any minute :’) but what bugs me even more is that my co-worker/superior looked at me saying “you can’t do that” and honestly I want to fling a table at her.

You don’t. fucking. say. Bitch.

I deserve to be yelled at, but don’t talk to me like I did it on purpose?

Oh, I can’t do that? That’s brand new fucking information, thank you.
Hadn’t you just told me I couldn’t do that I would’ve gone on with my day thinking I could do that, but I’m so happy you pointed out that mistakes – shockingly – are forbidden. I feel like a completely different person.