Morning (AM)
What am I going to do?
I can’t go back to work under F.F.
Nobody disagrees or walks out on F.F. (I disagreed AND walked out)
Shit, I live in the Company provided housing.
Shit.
Im screwed; how am I going to navigate this open, dark, yawning black trench?
I am fucking, forty, ahem something, my finances are crippled by a crippling firefight divorce.
I have five thousand dollars to my name, on the upside, no debt. But, shit, paying cash for the divorce was a huge mistake.
Huh… I just realised I have enough to pay for my funeral…. GO ME! YAY! Winning…..
Ms FF has broken me; I wonder if she knew, these last eighteen months, each time she berated me over something the other managers didn’t do that I “should have” known about, because, fuck, sorry Maam, my psychic radar was down for repairs on that occasion.
Or if the constant criticism and snide comments regarding my “lifestyle choices” started on Ms Fuck-Faces campaign.
Surviving Harlow 