People who somehow think they’re putting one over on their bosses by working as slowly as possible or doing as sloppy a job as possible or spending more time on their cell phones than actually working are annoying lazy-ass assholes. Yeah, I know you’re from a temporary agency and you don’t plan to make working here your career but have some decency and take pride in your work, for Pete’s sake!
Bosses who know who the slackers are and refuse to give them so much as a sideways glance deserve to be chained to them for eternity.
The jerk on the night shift who keeps spitting his (or her) gum next to or under our table in the lunch room so needs to accidentally suck a wad down his esophagus the next time he attempts this. Maybe I’ll just happen along to give him the Heimlich maneuver. (Or maybe I’ll just stand there and watch him choke.)*
There’s a guy who comes to clean the restrooms after every single break because some people have such poor aim or are just plain slobs in other ways. How people can possibly not clean up after themselves is way beyond me.
*Not really, of course.
I pit day laborers that glare at me when I walk past them. And I REALLY pit them when they choose to mark my passing by pointedly spitting on the ground. It’s happened at more than once, and it’s the reason I avoid places like Home Depot/Lowe’s/Orchard Supply.
I feel your pain, sister! I long ago resorted to wearing men’s athletic shoes because they fit, width-wise and are cheap. (Finding them in a size 7, however, is another story.) Now, in little more than a year, I have lost nearly a hundred pounds and I would like to have some nice women’s shoes for a change. But guess what? While the rest of me has been getting skinnier, my feet have been getting wider! Or maybe I should say foot, since my left is at least a width or two wider than the right. Is that the way to repay me, I ask? I do them a favor by shedding all that weight and they reward me by spreading out like pancake batter on a griddle!
I gets no respect, I tells ya!
Looks like I’ll have to go online for those nice shoes since I doubt that there’s any place locally that can accommodate these gunboats.
I realize that you have very limited knowledge as to how this miracle called “the Internet” works. I understand being upset when crappy map websites get directions wrong. But please never ask me to “call MapQuest and tell them that they’re giving the wrong directions to the shop and they need to fix it”. Not going to happen! Especially not when there’s a disclaimer on every single one of the sites that tells you that you should confirm the directions before driving them.
Fuckin’ moron. Thank heavens I’ve only got a couple of months left.
You smug little privileged piece of shit. I didn’t like you that much anyway–you always struck me as sort of a douche–but I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt when I spotted you with another coworker of mine. I asked if you would take a shot with us, and you said “yeah.” So when I came back with three shots of whiskey and you scoffed at my low class alcohol and tried to get the bartender to give you back money or a different drink for it.
What sort of snob piece of shit are you? You always accept a drink offered in the spirit of friendship. I should have seen it coming, though. I remember when someone stole your cell phone, and you ranted about “fucking poor people” stealing your property. I know you were upset that the only black people who work at our store are wonderful people, and you were deprived of the chance to rant about “fucking niggers.” Doesn’t make you any less of a douchebag, though.
What right do you have to bitch about poor people? You’re an assistant manager at a nice-ish restaurant in a college town. You make what, eleven dollars an hour, tops? Sorry, but trying on the daddy pants for a day doesn’t make you a man.
Fuck you for being a spoiled piece of shit. I hope you get scurvy.
Yeah, he really does sound like a world-class dick. My guess is that someone who acts like that is completely lacking in self-confidence, so he overcompensates and focuses on the wrong things. Or he’s just a complete douche. One or the other.
OK, I realize this is a culture where the whole concept of “standing in line” is a bit wobbly; rather, it bobs like a yo-yo at the World Yo-yo Championship… but for God’s sake, woman, do you have to shove while being in line to get Communion? What, you think they’re gonna run out of bread?
Goddammit fridge. Why the fuck do you have to break when I have no money to fix you and need you to keep things cold for Thanksgiving? I hope you get raped by syphilitic microwaves in appliance hell.
Damn you to hell, stupid parking-garage ticket machine! You ate my credit card at 5pm on a Friday, when the only person who could have gotten into your vile innards had gone home and wouldn’t be back till Monday. Worse, the credit card you ate was the one I had memorized the number for, and now I will have to get a new card with a new number. It was damn handy sometimes having a credit card number memorized…
Again?
I suppose it might be better than the time Mr. Neville’s fridge broke, in his unairconditioned apartment during a heat wave, while he was on vacation. He says the smell when he got back was indescribable.
Hello, Body? We don’t have time to get sick right now, you assbitch. I am looking at you, sinuses. Ya’ll better straighten up and fly right or this is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.
That’s definitely part of the problem - half the cheques I see are DDMMYYYY, and the other half are YYYYMMDD. For the love of all that’s holy, why is this so freakin’ hard to standardize? I would actually really appreciate a heavy-handed word from on high from the government on this, but they have bigger fish to fry. Like changing the GST from 6% to 5% and making fun of their opponents.
Yes, again. I’m using my neighbor’s daughter’s apartment-sized fridge until I can scrounge a new full-sized one. Which will have the coils in the BACK of the unit as God intended, not on the bottom where everything gets sucked in. There’s a reason my dad’s fridge has lasted twenty years while mine and my neighbors’ died in less than ten. Coils on the back.
This isn’t really a rant, though it was annoying I was just more surprised than anything else.
I went to the movie theater today to see “Saw IV”, and in the audience there were three couples making out during the film. Three separate couples! At “Saw IV!” The movie series that basically exists just to show people getting maimed & killed in gory elaborate ways. First of all I can’t understand why people will pay almost $25 ($11.75 per ticket) just to make out, but if that really is the only semi-private space you can get together, “Saw IV?” Really!?
(Plus it was fucking nasty to hear them slobbering all over each other. No one wants to see or hear your PDAs people.)
My wide-footed friends, it’s no easier here on the other end of the spectrum. TRY finding shoes in size 9.5AAA, just TRY. Fucking hell. I like, in theory, dressing up, but it’s tempting just to wear sneakers every day because I can fucking lace them up tight enough so that my foot doesn’t fall out, which is what happens with most shoes that don’t have laces.
And WHERE the FUCK is my life skills textbook in Bulgarian? I suck for mispacing my shit all the time! Good going, idiot!
Well sure, but I could understand it at a suspenseful scary movie, it’s just that the “Saw” films are more about showing as much gore as possible rather than trying to frighten people.
Ah well, not a big deal, I was mainly just a bit peeved that I could hear them. Plus I thought I heard a buckle jingling at one point and some clothes rustling so that just brings a whole new level of skeeviness to it.
Which is NOT intuitive damnit!
Three separate couples! At “Saw IV!” The movie series that basically exists just to show people getting maimed & killed in gory elaborate ways. First of all I can’t understand why people will pay almost $25 ($11.75 per ticket) just to make out, but if that really is the only semi-private space you can get together, “Saw IV?” Really!?