I'd scheduled my vacation time in advance. I asked my advisor for permission like he was my father. And I made goddamn well good and sure that when I got back, he would help me edit my APA fellowship essays. I set things up so we had nearly two weeks for him to edit stuff.

And then I get this:

"Just to let you know that I am away next week.

So if you want any feedback on the application, I would need to see it by
Wed.� I am not here on Friday either."

Wow. I'm supposed to drop absolutely fucking everything during my only fucking week of vacation, scurry around, put myself back into academic mode, write some essays, and send them to him by wednesday...while I'm on vacation?

Here's my tentative opening sentence on my personal diversity statement:

FUCK YOU.

I work my ass off in his lab FOR FREE. I schedule my life and my career around his appointments and time. I never, ever say a single disparaging remark about any number of things that really rub me the wrong way. I am consumately professional. I schedule things in advance.

And look at what it gets me.

Of course I reply in a civil manner. Why I can't ever get pissed off or angry or upset or miffed or annoyed when I'm suddenly expected to stop my insignificant faux vacation. It's expected that I'll just magically tell Nicholas, J, Tom, and others:

"No my kindred! I am the slave of duty, and indentured to grace my lips upon the supple teat of academia whensoever it coos its magic song, for I am but a babe struggling to engorge myself on its knowledge! Farewell, dear J and Tom, for I had wanted to dine with thine selves so! Farewell, dear Nicholas, while I continue to live in your apartment and eat while typing and attempting to not fly into a rage because I am being a poor guest. Alas! My heart breaks like amber blossomed tulips on a wind-swept day! But I must...work."

Fuck. That. Shit.

And fuck him.

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