Yeah, you, you stupid bloated cow and your dipshit moron crew. You’d think a goddamn ENVELOPE WITH YOUR NAME ON IT and the document inside ADDRESSED TO YOUR ATTENTION would get to you if we put it in your office mailbox, wouldn’t it?
No, you decided your document distribution and tracking system didn’t work, so you trashed it, without replacing it. So now when the guy’s looking for his reimbursement and you tell him you don’t have his voucher, he comes to me threatening all sorts of holy hell from the union if he doesn’t get it processed in the proper number of business days according to their agreement with the government.
Then you have the fucking nerve to berate me for not spending half the morning hunting your fat coffee-swilling ass down in a building ACROSS TOWN FROM WHERE I WORK in order to put the document in your pudgy costume jewelry-wearing ghetto-nailjob hands in person, but instead putting it in the mailbox RIGHT OUTSIDE YOUR OFFICE in the naive expectation that you and your classic-hits-radio listening, glurge-chugging posse have a system whereby someone actually looks at the envelope, reads who it’s addressed to, and makes sure it gets to its proper recipient.
Yeah, I’m real sorry you ran the risk of a paper cut and possible muscular damage by having to use your legs to go over to the week’s receipts and rifle through them to find the document I know I delivered. But don’t blame me for not making an effort because Captain Dummernabagahammerz over there couldn’t take ten seconds to read your name off something.
You want me to make sure I tell you when the damn document is coming down? Sure thing. I’ll even tell you where you can put it.
Dam Accountz Receevable Bitchez! They take these night classes, think they is such hot shit but they is not!
I learned my accounting on the streets.
I’m here to say BITCHEZ better open they damn mail or Herbert here gonna put a cap in their asses. You don’t see that shit from my Payaboo homies. Man, there ain’t no honor anymore.
I learned that lesson Day One. Problem is they won’t accept a copy; they need Original Signatures on these documents. My ass was saved only because this woman actually made an effort to look for it the second time around.
Shame on you people, talking about huffing sharpie markers and white-out. Everyone knows Jiffy markers are the only way to go for your huffing at work needs.
