an open letter to the vast majority of my co-workers
Dear the vast majority of my co-workers,
You suck. You really do. Its not only that your are dumb and dull, but you actually seem to buy into this shit.
Here is a partial list of the reasons you help make 40 hours a week of my life totally worthless and aggravating:
You dress badly: Yeah, Im not the best dresser in the world. I admit it. But I least my shits got some style, baby. Im not dressed in white button-down short-sleeve shirts from Ross with ugly Sabotage ties and dockers and shit. Or Libby Dole suits with a big-ass yellow pin for color and flair. Man, its depressing. It really is.
You play your music too loud: Look, I realize that in your lifeless little existence the only way you can express the last remaining microgram of your personality is to play Bad Company or Paula Cole really loud. Where have all the cowboys gone? Probably to a land where people dont think plaid and stripes go well together.
You are too short: Short people should be banned from Cubihell. Here's why. Seeing the coast clear, I come tearing around a tight cubicle corner on my way to Somewhere Very Important (read: smoke break) and bump into your short ass. But how could I have seen you? And then youre all flustered and I feel bad but then realize I really dont and am just annoyed. Listen, if youre short, be careful. "Oh thats not fair," you squeak. Well, is it fair that I drive a Honda and your ass drives an SUV and when you pull up next to me while Im trying to make a right turn, I have to be extra careful because I can no longer see around you? Same thing, ass-boy. Life aint fair Webster. Walk with your arms up or something.
You steal my shit from the refrigerator: Ooooh. This is low. This is the lowest. What is it, do you think you might have brought in a turkey sandwich and a diet coke from Willys Sandwiches on Flower and Verdugo yesterday and just forgot? Is that it? Or is the yawning cavern of what used to be your ambition and spirit so gaping it just requires something to fill it that something being the lunch of whoever was dumb enough to put their food in the funky-ass old yogurt-smelling Kenmore in the first place? Or are you just too poor to buy your own food, spending your money instead on gym memberships you never use, your growing addiction to Percodan, and 50 buck handjobs from strippers in the back of Crazy Girls? Either way, next time Im gonna booby-trap my lunch like some Humbolt County redneck with an acre of budding Indo. Hope you enjoy my PB & J with two fingers missing.
You are corporate suck-asses: You complain to "management" that I have an Onion article on my wall called "Keep Your Fucking Shit Off My Desk", and that Rob has photos of Brad Pitt and that Calvin Klein model with the big cock all over his walls. Shut up and walk away if youre so offended. Leave me alone. I dont complain that you have Dilbert all over your walls. Dilbert, and shit. Talk about a firing offense.
You cant fax/print/copy: I know I shouldnt care about this shit, but you send an 18 page fax and walk away. Of course the line is fucked and the shit keeps ringing or giving a loud busy signal, and then dialing back, over and over again. Or you print a 9000 page report. I try to print something and go to the printer. Naturally the paper has run out. So I reload and wait. Later I come back and its out again, and my shit is still in some Dante queue 473 pages back. And do you come check the printer? No. Uh-uh. Youre too busy ordering a copy of IQ on Amazon.com because you "just love Meg Ryan." And when you copy, you naturally jam the machine. "Oh my, it seems to be jammed. Better look for another copier". Do you try to fix the paper jam? "Oh, I wouldnt know how to do that."
You are too cheerful: Corporate toadies, you smile and talk about what great customer service weve managed in the fourth quarter and how were integrating a cohesive vertical strategy in order to maximize our efficiency in implementing new target wins and everyone in operations is just really jazzed. How bout you implement a new vertical strategy on my dick. How about that?
In closing, there are many many reasons I dont much like you, the vast majority of my co-workers. You suck. You really do.
Oh, you dont understand what makes you suck so much? Well, in the words of John Patrick Shanley, "You oughta find out man. That oughta be your mission in life."
Please fire me,
The Larry King Happy