I’ve been there too, Shag. I worked as an in-house tech for an insurance company, and talk about fucking personality disorders! A psychiatrist could have done his residency there.
The people and situation were more or less what’s already been described above. You had your basic OJ-non-Training, bitter wrecks in their 50’s and 60’s who had worked so long at insurance that they had forgotten to lose their virginity all those decades ago when they actually had a chance, and high-school politics. I thought I had seen everything, until I saw these 50-somethings sitting around in a meeting catting about some absentee’s thighs like bitchy cheerleaders (except that bitchy cheerleaders tended to be a whole lot easier on the eyes than these Metamucil cases). Straight Outta Chekov, I tell you.
By the time they got around to telling me that I just wasn’t “fitting in” on the team nine months later, I was smart enough to take it as a compliment. I took a job stocking shelves at night at the hardware store for only slightly less pay, and had a great time with the people there.
I’ll also echo everyone else’s sentiments that you’re better off without that job, Shag. You only have one life. It’s better to spend it digging ditches and stocking shelves while being treated with respect by your colleagues than living with a false sense of dignity in some shithole white collar job with blasphemous skanks who don’t have the guts or sense to live their lives decently.
) I tell her so and she yells something about privacy and office and we go into an office with a door.
