it doesn't matter

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She can jump and scream and tear her hair out, much like the petulant child she certainly isn't, as much as she wants. Nothing will change. Nothing ever changes. You would think she should know that by now, but perhaps her memory is slipping. Her halo definitely is. It's slipping to such an extent that it will soon be on the floor, to be crushed by the feet of a thousand and one students. I understand her frustration. I also understand her need to rant and rage. She just needs to be aware of both who she's talking to, and where her limits lie. It becomes uncomfortable when your Beautiful Italian friend digs her heels in and speaks passionately and without thought. You want to catch her eye, give a little shake of your head ... if that doesn't work you feel the need to jump up and grab onto her shoulders, shaking her until she stops saying the things which may be her downfall. We are - somewhat unfortunately - easily disposed of and replaced. We are very aware of this. Within the college hierarchy we are at the very bottom, treated like a smelly, gooey bit of dog poo that's been stepped in. We used to feel valued. Now we simply feel used and abused. But ultimately it doesn't matter. It is just a job. Granted, it is a job I used to love {and to some extent, still do} but it is still just a job. It's not really worth getting stressed over, is it?