Date: 14/3/940
I. Am. So. Stupidly. Bored.
Like, seriously – Dr. Rocha has had me on stocking duty for weeks. WEEKS! It's the same stupid thing every single day. Get in, gown up, take inventory, grab any extra media we need from the storage freezer, make note of the stuff we're low on, order extra supplies, etc, etc, etc. Over, and over, and over again. It's just mind-numbing work, and I can't so much as look at any of our cool machinery, or even step into the main lab right now! This is absolutely not what I went to school for and practically broke my brain over trying to achieve. If I'd known things would be like this, I wouldn't have tried nearly as hard as I did!
Supposedly, this is just a probationary period until Dr. Rocha can get around to training me, but this was not what I had in mind when I took the job. He's supposed to be doing cutting edge medical research, and yet even after being employed by him for weeks, I know practically nothing about what goes on in his lab. I swear, I'm so bored out of my mind, it's going to kill me. And I'm trying my best to avoid Bran so that he doesn't piss his pants laughing when he realizes that I'm stuck as a glorified stocking girl right now. Stupid brother. At least his kids are cute – they've been his only redeeming quality for a while now.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
On the bright side, the pay's been good enough that I should be able to afford my own apartment soon. The fact that I'm getting a halfway decent salary right out of school doing basically nothing is actually kind of surprising. I should probably consider myself lucky – some of my old classmates have had a way harder time with their jobs. So, I guess I'll just stick with it until Dr. Rocha finally trusts me enough to do something worthwhile.
Once I get enough savings built up, I'm thinking of looking somewhere in that quiet little spot just off of Fender's Ct. That would be perfect. It should be close enough to both work and home that I won't have to take a transport anymore. Those things make my skin crawl with how tightly packed they get. I really don't like being treated like a slab of meat that just gets stuffed in a tin can. I like to breathe, thank you very much. Heck, I've even taken to walking to work recently. It's better to just deal with an early morning than those transports. Plus, it's a good bit of exercise.
Oh, shoot – before I forget, Mom had wanted me to pick up some groceries on my way home tomorrow. She just told me a few minutes ago, but I should probably write her list down somewhere to help me remember. I'll erase this part later:
- Eggs
- Milk
- Tea
- Markramp (not the store brand stuff– Mom needs the Mean Green brand for her Nayma soup recipe)
- Sugar
Maybe I'll grab a few other snacks too. Who knows?
Nelda Crane, signing out.
YOU ARE READING
Subterra Heart
Science FictionConnor is sick. Always has been, always will be. It's left him jaded and strapped for cash, but at least it's not bloodrot. He's still got his sanity. When an estranged family member offers him a lifetime supply of his meds for an itsy bitsy bit of...
