I don't know just how many voices he hears in his head. I go through anxiety attacks each day wondering what kind of mood he'll be in. Surly? Happy-go-lucky? Pick on you 'till you cry? How 'bout "make hay while the weather's good?" I know, "This pi**ing place is no good, and neither are you"
I have to say he's said I am doing a great job one day, and the next he finds fault in every thing I do!