The Boss

This is absolutely the final time I talk about the shop and more specifically the people in it. 

Before the whole "you could have contacted me sooner" thing flaky mate asked me if I'd take a ticket to the Diana Ross concert (which was last night) in the unlikely event her friends weren't back from their holiday - airports being as they have been recently. I wasn't bothered either way but said yes, because why not?

Fast forward to yesterday, no word. Not a sausage. The manager asked me a few times if I'd heard from them, and was shocked I hadn't. Then the shock turned into pity for me. I didn't expect to hear anything unless I was needed - and that's what this whole thing boils down to, it's when they need something. 

They've mistaken my easy going nature with me being a pushover, and this has coloured how some other people see me there. I don't care about them being a rubbish mate - I know they're a rubbish mate, what I don't care for is other people thinking I'm a sad case, because I'm not.

But this is that line in the sand, there's nothing unless it's helping to wrap a 48 piece dinner service. Enough is more than enough. I'm the boss of my life.

Don't feel sorry for me, I feel nothing but relief.