Jean is not a happy camper. Scratch that. Jean is not a happy employee.

I'm going to be spending this weekend getting my shit together and making plans, plans which include not working here anymore. When you have an evaluation that tells you your job performance is just fine but that your personality needs to change drastically, I'd say that's a good sign that you and your job are no longer a good fit (not that it was ever an especially comfortable fit to begin with). They want a joiner and a follower, someone who will attend all of the extra-curricular social engagements with a bright, perky smile on her face, whose job is her life, whose co-workers are her best friends, who bakes cookies every week and chats breezily with every single person who walks by her desk, every single time they walk by, while still managing to efficiently do the hundred-and-fifty different things that this job demands each day. I, gentle readers, am not that person. Obviously. They've been trying unsuccessfully to turn me into this person for three years, and now they've found a way to penalize me for resisting their assimilation techniques. Methinks it's high time to move on.