When good jobs go bad

It's finally happened. The honeymoon is over. I hate my job.

I hate my job a lot. I've got a new boss – and the man is crazy. He has a man-period every day, and is very passive aggressive.

I hate him, and I failed to hide it, so he knows I hate him, and is trying his best to make my life a misery – and succeeding.

Last week I was told I had to do nightshifts again – after a year of not doing them. I now have to do a week at nights a month. Apparently, they need the best people on at nights now for my department. Yet, we have been given barely any training on the new system.

It's so important – but yet, he has not signed up for them as well.

Up until his arrival, I can truly say that I was enjoying my job – but now. I hate it. In a way it's a good thing, because it's not like I was doing anything ground-breaking there.

Most of my daily stories centre around celebrity cellulite, an ENORMOUS baby bump, and the comings and going of SCABBY Amy Winehouse. But there was a rhythm and a buzz about it that I enjoyed.

So now, I have to get out there and find another job. I hope something else comes along soon. Because my mum always told me it's not good to hate people.

Sorry Mum