Easter Eggs.

Every day I arrive at work with a solid plan for what I want to get accomplished. That rarely lasts longer than the time it takes for me to reach my desk. Without fail, some evil task that threatens to land me and/or my boss in jail if it's not accomplished yesterday commands my time and attention, pushing otherwise important tasks that don't necessarily come with the threat of forcible anal rape to the back burner. The back burner is overflowing at the moment.
 
I call these little gems Easter eggs. You never know when or where you're going to find them. Unlike the Easter eggs you may be familiar with from your youth, these are mostly filled with greenish-brown fecal matter. You just have to hold your nose and deal with them, or they'll just end up stinking up the place.
 
My predecessor told me it would be two years before I could stop running around blindly and would finally feel like I had a semi-solid grasp on what the job entailed. This sense of confidence and competency would indicate that it was time to leave, as it is likely based on a reliance on the knowledge of outdated standards that would eventually lead to mass incarcerations and the aforementioned unwanted sexual encounters. Once you stop being afraid is the time you should be really scared.
 
My hope is that eventually I'll stop finding so many Easter eggs and can clear off the back burner. I'm hoping that throbbing at my temples is not a tumor. I'm hoping that nobody above me will realize just how ineffective I am and put me and my family out on the street.
 
You won't tell them, will you?

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