Am going absolutely crazy.
And not in boy-isn't-this-fun-to-be-delirious sense.
If work situation does not improve, think am going to end up faking own kidnapping and learning love for automatic weaponry a la Patty Hearst.
Immediately.
Think perhaps that yours truly works for the most unprofessional set of fuckwits in architectural world. Is simply not right to have to go to ladies room and cry after getting yelled at by Mr. Burns (of Simpson's fame) clone who -- when discovers he was dead wrong and yours truly was... ahem... correct as usual, King Friday -- does not apologize. Asshole.
Come on, Patty. Teach me some skills.