No spoon for you!

Why does it seem that between the hours of 8am and 5pm Monday through Friday, your life is no longer your own? You only get paid for 8 of those 9 hours, so you think, well, maybe that one hour I am not paid for would be my own hour, do what I want to do, as long as I am not doing anything illegal or something that would look bad on my work reputation.
Well, that's not true, I guess. That one hour that you are not paid is still not your own time. According to some insane people that call themselves your boss and/or office manager. You are forever indebted to remain on company grounds, though you can't use the company supplied items like forks, spoons or the microwave for god sake. God forbid you cook something that has any sort of odor and requires you to use a spoon to eat with it. What do you mean you didn't bring your own spoon from home with you? You expect the company to supply spoons for you? Well, isn't that why they are sitting in a drawer in the kitchen? Or is it just a staging for when people come to view the facility-yes, we use our kitchen, see the spoons in the drawer? I bet you don't smell any food though, because we don't allow our employees to use the microwave, yet we forbid them to leave the building for lunch.
Speaking of false giving, what is the point on having a cover charge for a bar when the drink prices are some astronomical amount to begin with? There is no band and the dj is hidden away in a dark corner surrounded by glass and walls and you can't even get to them to request a song. What are you paying for? Not the upkeep of the bathrooms, that's for sure. Not when there are only 3 stalls, one that uses a curtain for a door and two others that were jimmied in such a way that you can get them to lock, with effort, but what's the point? The cracks left behind after the 'jimmy' are so large you mind as well have just left the door open. At least there was toilet paper. And then, they post these signs all over the place stating a phone number to use if you happen to drink just a bit too much. And when your ride home does just that, you call the number and it's disconnected. What kind of thank you for patronising my bar and spending all your money on alcohol so now you have to take a cab ride home is that? Luckily I had a 50 dollar bill on my dresser, otherwise we would have been screwed. Just call me Sister Bail-Out (and I am talking about the habit wearing nun type of sister, not the-your my brother, I'm your sister, sister). I'm no Saint, but it seems that I'm continuously bailing someone out every other weekend. Well, it's my own fault. But at least I have a good time while doing it.

I guess my death to the boss didn't come true and it was just a story. Hmmm...but she did not show up to work today...