Parvo. Exhaustion. Stress. Depression. I cashed a check, and then gave the client the check back. Thank GOD we have honest clients, she said "I think you're supposed to keep this."
I told my bosses about my stress, my insomnia, my exhaustion. I've made mistakes, and I am afraid I am going to make more. I am out on disability. I've been out of work since Monday, because a tired and unfocused banker is a mistake making banker. My cocktail of vitamins, sleeping pills and Aleve continues to bear limited fruit.
Now I have to see a shrink.
I really feel like I'm starting to lose it.
Sarah, the cute barista, has been so sweet to me. She is a Jehovah's witness, and she has been trying to keep me sane, reminding me to have faith. I envy her ability to believe. I wish I had something to believe in.
I went to school for Fine Arts. I'm an accomplished sketch artist, painter, photographer, writer, and designer. I'm gruff, rough, and kinda tough. So how the HELL did I end up working at Fiscal United Bank? The following stories are all true accounts of the day to day insanity that I have encountered as a representative of Fiscal United Bank. Only the names and minor details have been changed to protect... well, to protect me from litigation, frankly.
No comments:
Post a Comment