Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Monday, Mar. 21, 2005 - 9:53 p.m.

Finally got my outdate today: April 1.

Of course.

Part of me thinks that entirely appropriate, since I was a frigging fool to believe I ever had a snowball's chance in hell at the job, but Christiane never meant for me to. She set me up from start to finish, so her friend Sunny could have the job. See, the Supervising Producer of the show, wouldn't hire Sunny because she has zero experience...she'd never even logged videotape until 5 days ago. So despite what must surely be Christiane's enormous dick sucking talent, he refused to hire her little friend. So she hit on the perfect plan: push for me to be hired and then lie about me every step of the way, so she could tell the SP, when she came up for air, that they tried it his way and it didn't work, so he should go with the no experience girl who happens to be her friend and would therefore do a tremendous job. She even trained the bitch FOR MY JOB right in front of me today, and didn't bother to hide it. For that matter, she started solidly prepping her for the job on Thursday, her second day in the office.

And yes, Sunny is a bitch. In the 5 short days since I have had to share an office with her, I have been treated to a litany of intolerant, snide, bitchy comments about just about anything under the sun, my favorite being that men who cry are pathetic losers, and she can't stand them. She also feels that she does not have to show any respect at all for other people's feelings if they happen to disagree with her viewpoints. She told me that when she was ripping on Bush one day in front of an obviously silent coworker I know is conservative. So I pointed out to her when he left that I thought he voted for Bush, and perhaps she could tone down her comments about how stupid people who like Bush are. She shrugged, said she didn't care, why should she. I said because it's polite, for one thing, and that she should have some respect for her coworkers. Her reply was that if they were so stupid as to like Bush, they weren't deserving of respect, and that if they don't like what she has to say, they could just leave. In short, the kind of crap that runs rampant in fanatic chat rooms, nevermind the irony of me sticking up for someone who supports George W. Bush.

So I spent the last 3 work days watching fucking Christiane Kirsch cooing solicitously over a fucking logger, making sure she got all the information and help she needed...to do the job I was hired for, when she would not fucking take 5 minutes to chat with me about it. And murmuring "secrets" in German while she repeatedly looked over her shoulder at me, like I am so stupid I can't hear "Katie" in the middle of a German sentence and not put two and two together. Especially when she should be able to remember I understand enough German to get the gist of the conversation.

Why is it that the kinds of people who pull this shit are always so incredibly moronic? And no, she didn't want me to understand; because I had headphones on, she assumed I was listening to music, and she kept her voice down, just not down enough. I couldn't hear it all, but I heard enough to validate my belief I was gettin' short. Dummer feggische Fotze.

(Apologies to my German readers.)

The final nail in the coffin of fading hope today was when I went to get my week's assignment from Mike and he asked if he should burn the transcripts to disk or mail them to me. I answered whatever was easiest, and then lightly tacked on "I live to serve you, Mike." What I got in response was a very stony "No, you live to serve this show." It was so angry I was shocked and actually started shaking. I had no idea what to say, so I just said thank you and left. And then at 5:45pm today, the post supe comes and leans against the wall next to me, which is highly unusual, as I don't work for him and have no contact other than to say "hey" to each other. I said "are ya hidin' there?" and he goes "Can we step outside for a moment?"

No happy discussion ever begins with the words "we need to talk" or "can we step outside," so I knew what was going on. As soon as we hit the hall, I said "did they send you to give me my walking papers?" and he's all "You know?" and I said I'd been waiting the last 2 weeks for it. I told him the whole story, which met with a lot of shock and several "that's not right"s. He clearly hated the task and was nice enough to offer some help, and then I went back in the office, powered down my computer, and left. Fuck me if I'm gonna stay a second past 6:00 in that fucking place for another day. I'm gonna take an hour for lunch every day and look for work on company time, too. Kiss my ass, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. You fucking deserve it.

Peace out,
Katie

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