Dear Nikki,

I'm not sure if this is really your wheelhouse, but I HATE. MY. JOB. I have a psycho boss named Fran who storms around the office screaming at people for her own mistakes, everyone else acts like it's normal, and tbh I honestly feel like I'm in an insane asylum half the time.

I'm not quitting yet because it doesn't pay that poorly, and I know that it's "professional" and the "right thing to do" to stay at least close to a year.

And yes, I know I sound like a entitled brat. But sorry, I don't to be screamed at all day by a 45 year old divorcee who went to a fake college, and doesn't even know how to use basic features in excel (that can be easily googled; trust me, I've done it). Does that make me such a bad person? I'd rather like to think that makes me sane. And not masochistic.

Soooo basically, how the fuck do I make any of this more tolerable? Slash am I just the world's whiniest bitch and need to shut the fuck up?

Kill me now


Dear Ramona Singer's personal assistant,

Who doesn't hate their job? I'm actually writing this from an office in Soho, while I'm pretending to do a contact report for a bullshit client. So to be honest, I'm not really sure that I'm the best person to give advice here. In fact, I may be one of the worst.

And since I'm in a murder-y mood, my take on life is currently that work sucks, men are evil, and I'm honestly pretty jealous of all the basic bitches running around NYC who are somehow able to feel fulfilled by their braindead boyfriends and weekly trips to Zara.  

And honestly, everyone else in this city is just running around competing over who can work the most, and for some reason getting off on it. Like ok, sick. So glad you can do more adderall/coke/crystal meth than me. I'll gladly lose this competition.

My philosophy is: just show up, do the bare minimum, be super fake nice to everyone so that they like you regardless, and then leave at 5 pm, because it's not like you're getting paid any more for staying any longer. Basically, at the end of the day, a paycheck is a paycheck. 

I would also really recommend as many long walks during the day as possible. And snack breaks. And manicure breaks. Any sort of break. A lunchtime sex break (I've actually done this. It was great. He also made me a Moscow mule before I had to go back to the office). 

Oh, and if your work computer is a Mac, then DEF sync your iMessages to it so you can just bitch to your friends/boyfriends/exes/tinders all day via text. 

Anyway, I am so deeply sorry that you have a beat, psycho, socially inept, questionably cognitively functioning boss. I honestly also live in fear of the Freudian slips that may appear in my emails the next time someone tries to blame me for their own fuck up. But maybe just throw all caution to the wind and follow your rage!

And like, it's not mean if it's true.