We get it. I get it. Can you stop now? Please? Go bask silently where I do not have to bear witness to your gloating happiness. It's not that I want you to be unhappy, or that I even want your particular brand of happiness for myself. I just can't stand to have it thrown about all the time.
I'm a corporate lackey, slowly trying to climb my way up the ladder to the old white men above the glass ceiling. They keep kicking the ladder away. Bastards.
<< Home