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The next 8.5 minutes made me realise why I'm not a manager.
I am naive. I am gullible. I am weak and couldn't argue my way out of a paper bag. If I was a lawyer, I would be the type that woke up four nights later with 'Eureka! That's how I could have saved my client!'. When I am confronted, the centre of attention, looked at by more than one person at a time or talking about something I am seriously passionate about, I have a tendency to forget what I was saying. And turn bright red. And stink like a stable. And start to cry.
I'm thanking the long tuckshop queue for a later-than-usual caffiene boost that helped me not to cry this time. However, every positive I had of the 'new EnnyPen' has now been turned into a negative.
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It seems even Shauna is subtley telling me to stay where I am...
Instead, my mental image of being one of 'those girls' in the skirt suits and pointy shoes, is looking more and more like the EnnyPen I actually am - the one in the corner eating popcorn and bopping to Talking Heads and Tripod on her headphones.
It's times like these I could use my own Schappelle worm.
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