... Ever ever ever to share a museum or more importantly, a job with?!
I was so excited when I started work on the Argentinosaurus and egg exhibit at the National Museum. Who would have thought my first ever job as Junior Curator, prehistory gallery, would have ended up like this?!
AIBU to think my Line manager has yet to show any core competencies for our profession, is a terrible manager, a terrible role model for someone just starting out and most worryingly, is going to lose us both our jobs any day now?!
His hero complex is driving me up the wall, and the way he keeps skulking around that grandfather clock is a bit weird.
I'm also starting to think he might sleep at the museum, given his unwashed and rumpled attire. And his long winded 'adventures' don't seem quite erm, plausible to me?
So, my anxiety levels are sky high, with the white knuckle duster ride of one slipshod work disaster after another on Every Single Exhibit.
Night after night, just when I'm just sloping off for a hot date/ warm bath and an early night, prior to 'the big opening' Andy somehow balls it up again.
Or the other minimum wage zero hour contract slave/ cleaner/ klutz that no one ever sees coming or actually communicates with. And by way of a side point, why doesn't anyone ever tell that poor man what he can and cannot mop/ spray/ squeegee? I try but I have my hands full 'managing up' that cheerful technophobe Andy.
Only tonight was there another balls up with a bucket and a Paraceratherium footprint, but no getting the measurements off the net, apparently that was too tricky, and now he's sent me home whilst rubbing his nose in a disturbingly conspiratorial fashion, it's driving me crazy!
Night after night, Andy carefully explains why none of my ideas will work and that with no prospect of repairing the disasters, we're all doomed, before cheerfully waving me off for a night of nail biting tension and 'ooh will my job still be there in the morning' wakeful midnight musings.
Then when it seems like at last the ruddy incompetent fool has bungled his and my job's out the window, he 'saves the day' again. Single handedly. And improbably.
With a demanding boss (Mrs Pickles) who appears to be a bad combination of The Money and an enthusiastic collector / maker of terrible fake replica artifacts she insists on the dullest centre of an exhibit...
Poor me, I am Jen, Andys Assistant, stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.
AIBU to resign (slightly after I've gone loco with a dinosaur bone)? Ooh, or rat him out and take over myself?! 