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If there is one thing that is true in my life it is this: The Man and I are exact opposites in every way. I like steak; he likes ground beef. I order my meat so rare the kitchen can just drag it through a warm oven; he orders it so well-done they should toss it in an open fire until it's black. I'm supremely casual; he's super structured.
And then there's work.
I'm a work-to-live kind of girl. The Man lives to work. The Man's natural habitat is the office. Vacations? Stress him out. Because he's not at work. And so it was with a gaping jaw that I stared at The Man recently as he muttered under his breath, "I hope my boss gets hit by a car this weekend..." This was a moment so out-of-character, he may as well have unzipped his skin and revealed himself to be a cyborg.
People Leave Bosses, Not Jobs ...
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