I'm wondering: is there a good time to cry at your desk? Because I'm thinking now might be that time, and I don't see any official company policy manual prohibiting it.

I am so tired of being yelled at by crazy people.

I'm tired of being yelled at by non-crazy people, too, but that happens only very rarely, and generally I know why it's happening.

Crazy people who call my company frequently find themselves passed along to my number--because I have been designated official crazy person accommodater among my coworkers, apparently--and when they hear my voice, they instantly begin yelling. It is like they are all members of a very unpleasant club, the requirements of which dictate that they call random numbers daily, and berate whoever answers the phone whether or not the specific complaint is something relevant to the nature of that person's job.

Today's great phone call came from a woman who yelled into the phone, then politely complimented me on my name, then told me her name and its meaning (in what language, I don't know). She then proceeded to yell at me because the town in which I work is "inconveniencing everyone" who tries to drive through here, owing to the amount of traffic. (This has absolutely nothing to do with my job, incidentally.)

This woman, whom I'll call Barbara, was strident and sarcastic, a lovely combination, and also seemed to think that yelling at me would somehow clear up the traffic issue, as if perhaps I had a button I could push, which would magically increase the number of lanes on the highway to 12, clearing up traffic for those who wished the drive to move a little quicker.

If I had that button, I would push it. I am not one of the rich, indolent folks who Barbara described as typical residents here, sitting out on a patio with Champagne and laughing at the gridlock on the road far below our huge mansions. I'm just a sucker with a long commute, a commute becoming increasingly unbearable by a) the traffic and b) the unreasonable people who yell at me when I arrive.

Barbara assured me that her comments weren't meant with any personal or malicious intent, but does that really matter? The effect on me is the same, because I've been subjected to some random yelling fit regarding a subject I have absolutely no power over.

In other news: my coworker, Anita, quit today; drafted a letter of resignation, and ditched. I felt a wave of envy when I learned she'd quit, and a pang of self-hatred for not having done the same thing myself two years ago, when I realized that my work situation was untenable and ridiculous and my boss was abusive and vicious. Instead, I got another job within the company, which represented a 100% improvement, boss-wise, but only a 30% improvement, job-wise. I think I would like myself more had I just bitten the bullet and quit the second I realized I was in for a bad time. Then again, the second I realized how bad it would be was literally the instant I saw my boss's face. I was a temp, and on my first day, I arrived and announced myself at the reception desk. The receptionist called Marge (my original boss here) to tell her I'd arrived. Moments later, I turned my head, and saw this woman with maroon hair striding towards me with a wry, bitter expression--narrowed eyes, smirk--and I knew I should just turn and run. In retrospect, that was a wise instinct and I should have followed it. The day just got worse from there, and by the time I left, I was stressed and tense. The temp agency called me to see how it was going, and I let them know exactly how awful it was, how insanely huge the workload was, how little I was being paid, and how mean Marge was. The temp coordinator asked if I could stick it out for the month I'd agreed on, and I said I thought so.

And then I stayed for a year and a half. When I called back to see if I could get another assignment, temp lady was brittle. She gave me the Extended Pause, and asked, "What happened there...?" And when I explained that I was miserable and overworked and underpaid and not appreciated and all the other things that made me cry pretty much daily at my desk, she said she'd see if there was anything else, and I never heard from her again.

And now I'm here, in another capacity, wondering what happened to my self-esteem, my ability to fend for myself, and you know, everything else I ever valued about myself. For some reason, I can't see my way clear to the next step, and it's very, very disheartening.

I can no longer attribute the feeling to PMS, although one bright note in my day has been my boss's repeated accusations that he is ill because he caught what I had last week. Last week, I went home because my cramps were so acute that I threw up and passed out in the kitchen. It might prove interesting, if he has indeed caught that ailment.

Star of the day. . .George Lass