A recap

I've given my colleagues nick-names for a reason :

MargeThe AccountsWoman
(Marge, for short) has a voice that sounds like Marge Simpson, and akin to the 'real' Marge's sister, has always got a cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth.
Most people smoke, but 'my' Marge inhales the benzamine, the nitrosamine, the formaldeyde and the cyanide all in one god-all-mighty suck
She takes shortest cigarette breaks ever known to man kind.
She also has the gruffest, gratingest voice since ... Serge Gainsboug, after he's spent the evening downing neat whisky and smoking duty free cartons of untipped Gauloises.

TheWickedWitchFromThePlanning
Has a worn, middle aged, evil looking, gothiky 'thing' about her.
You really need to imagine the chick from from NCIS, but thirty five years older.
For someone who works on a welcome desk, she's the absolute antithisis of the word 'welcome'.
Anyone who asks her 'who's my trainer today ?' will be met with the reply of 'Over there .. fuckwit ...'
Why people come back to us still remains a mystery to me after all these years - perhaps it's the abuse that sucks them in, i dunno really

BoyIdiot
Your average, forty year old, porky, fat bloke.
Still stuck in the satorial 'elegance' of the 1980's with clashing colours, boot lace tie and rockabilly cowboy boots.
Imagine a zit-faced, fifteen year old adolescent trapped in a fat bloke's body and hamstrung by various issues, notably his assorted variants of ritualistic behaviour
Whilst the idea of a femme/enfant sets most of us (red blooded blokes) off into a drooling quiver, i'm not too convinced that he could be that many a woman's fantasy

Why do i all of this bring this up ?

Like every one, i moan, groan and take the piss quite often ... but lately i've been having a really hard time trying to cope with people who need to be bolstered and assisted from nine to five every day.

I've really and truly had enough of trying to accomodate 'their stuff' (i've got my own 'stuff' to worry about)

Today, as much as i like what i do, i was *that close* to calling it quits ... seriously ... that close to dumping my files on the nearest head and saying 'yo, that's your shit from now on, çiao'

I can't do it anymore and i've really. had. a. gutfull

Tomorrow, and tomorrow's morrow will be the same - i want out of the bullshit

Ras le cul, vraiment