We are being relocated and another department is taking over our offices. Offices that have leaked immensely from a bad roof so that there are puddles waiting for us when we return from a long bout of rain, which is typical for New Orleans in the summer. Offices that are covered with dust from the body shop next door. Now that we are moving, the roof will be fixed, the gaping holes in the asphalt that are always full of filthy water in the parking lot will be filled in. They really know how to stick it to the bottom feeders.

The CS bitch is the first to move her stuff in. She has taken over the office that has always been empty, the place where the painters ate their lunches, the place that we liked having empty. She used to be a freak like us in the body shop before she sold out and became a executive middle-management tightass. She claimed she was cool, goth, whatever, but when I look at her I can't help but see a shell of a strong career woman. I see the strength sapped out of a woman who claims to be strong. She drives a better car then me, wears expensive clothes and may well turn out to make more money than me, now and forever.

But it is she who is sitting in her office crying because a sales manager who wears $400 suits with monogrammed cuffs has chewed her head off once again. She is the one who tells some friend on the phone that she's going to have to pour herself a stiff margarita when she gets home, how hard her life is.

She is going to make my last days here pure hell. But at least I'm leaving. Yay.

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