I worked last night - bloody ingrown toenail and all. Was my Mundane Manager glad that I was fighting through the ferociously irritating pain? It difficult to tell from her note: "Doctor Donut, Could you please work Friday? You owe me? (smiley face) - Mundane Manager."
I didn't think it was possible, but my Mundane Manager caused me more irritation with a simple note with loopy letters than my obscenely repugnant toenail. She may deserve some sort of award for this feat: Miss Damsel of Distress 2007? Satan's Little Helper this side of the Mississippi? or perhaps, just a free pass directly to Hell?
The sassy little note didn't irritate me the most when I first saw it. The note progressively pained me as the night went along just like my oozing toenail. The torture of my ingrown toenail was actually a catalyst for the torment of the note.
Both ailments hit their peak of annoyance around 5 a.m. when the wire connecting my headset to the battery pack got caught on the pop dispenser, I lost my balance, nearly fell down and in the process stubbed my toe - yeah, the one. It was strange because when I was jumping up and down holding my toe in agony I didn't yell out, "Stupid toe;" instead, I yelled out, "Stupid god-damn manager and her shitty note." That sealed the deal for me that the two ailments affected each other, kind of, like how O.J affected Nicole.