I QUIT

They smoke.
They spit phlegm into the sink. Thick, yellow, glutinous, lumpy bits of germ-bags that super-glue themselves to the bottom of the sink.
They spend their time wasting away, taking offensive photos of themselves and sending them out to people.
They...

They: Could you edit this? You need to type out whole questions. [Hands over a copy of Science 3A. their first brain-child.]
Me: Ok.[Accepts the CD, along with the 4 pages of edited mistakes I had completed earlier in the week]
[starts to do everything neatly. Suddenly struck with the exponential amount of work I am faced with.]
Me: Am i going to given extra pay for this
They: uh.. no...
Me: Ok, because this is out of my job scope. I'm only supposed to be doing sales are marketing, NOT editing
They: Actually... this is part of marketing what...
[pregnant pause]
Me: I honestly don't see how this has ANYTHING to do with marketing.
They: since you put it that way... don't do it then [Walks off in a huff]
[Leaves me, with nothing to do but to call the remaining 20 odd schools, all of which are inhabited by creatures without opposing fingers, and therefore cannot pick up the phone. Grump]

But seriously, how pathetic is that?
Actually... this is part of marketing what...
I'm sorry, but to me that reads I AM TRYING TO EXPLOIT YOU
It was almost hilariously feeble
And hideously obvious.

Dear God, please let me get that job with Tess...