Dear Alcoholic Co-Worker–
You have not been fired…yet. But while the big shots are in the process of making that decision, wouldja mind coming to work and uh, working? Staying home drinking and crying your eyes out, then calling me up at work to tell me you’re thinking about killing yourself is not doing anyone any good. You certainly may have fucked yourself when you got that DUI in the company vehicle last week, but you are not giving anyone a chance to salvage this mess. Get a grip! They’re trying not to fire you, you silly bitch! We’re all bending over backwards to help you and you’re falling apart like a wet paper towel.
Father-in-law: I am not a moron. Speaking to me as if I WERE a moron will earn you a swift, well-timed kick in the nads. Even IF the home inspector is standing there at the same time.
Trucks on I-80 East - see that white stuff? That’s snow. Yes, the majority of the road has been completely plowed and melted, and I will happily go 75 on those parts of the road, but when I can feel my wheels pushing through the snow, I’m not comfortable above 50. There are TWO MORE fucking lanes you’re welcome to use! Get off my ass, quit flicking your brights at me, and go to hell. I guess the three trucks on their sides in a ten mile stretch aren’t enough to make you think “Hey! They went off the road. Maybe I should slow down?”.
Dear mr. e: When the cat is throwing up, don’t try to shove newspaper under her head. She will move anyway, and she’s trying to throw up in peace. Let her blow chunks, then clean it up. Quit chasing her around with the Sports Section. One of these days, she’s going to throw up on your hand. And I’m going to laugh. A lot.
Mom, please don’t get all pissy when I ask you not to call us at SEVEN AM. We don’t get out of bed until 7:10 or so, and if the phone rings at 7 AM, we immediately assume someone is dead. We do NOT assume that you are calling to tell me that you found the gift receipt for my Gilmore Girls DVDs and I can exchange them at Target now. Next time you call at 7 AM, someone better be dead.
E.
Office-specific mini-rants:
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It’s frickin’ freezing in here. Yes, I realize we’re supposed to dress “business professional”, but until someone cranks up the heat, I WILL wear my hoodie over my nice blouse, at least whilst sitting in the privacy of my own cubicle. Thank you.
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The water filter doesn’t work. So, I either have to go buy water or drink the crappy, warm, foul-tasting tap water. I think I’ll just be thirsty for awhile.
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To the shufflers: you know who you are. There’s three or four of you. You work in a nice, fairly high-profile job but can’t manage to pick up your feet or learn to walk in heels. If you can’t walk in them without being shuffling, simply don’t wear them! In this same category is** Slouch’n’Slide**, so dubbed b/c he can’t seem to either stand up straight or pick up his feet. Sir, I sincerely hope you didn’t walk into the interview like that, because you look like a dumbass. With me being the youngest in this office, that makes you at LEAST 25, but you’re walk makes you look like a teenager trying to look cool. You do not look cool, you just look stupid. Even teenagers look stupid doing this, but it’s ok, b/c they’re kids and can’t be expected to know better yet.
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Slightly related to the shufflers, but much worse, are the stompers. Stompers can’t walk from one location to the next without shaking the entire floor. My water bottle shakes like there is a T-rex approaching at rapid pace, and I’m seriously considering wearing a sports bra to work just to avoid getting a black eye from all the bouncing.
Thank you for your time, that is all for now.
As if a total of 17 hours spent on airplanes weren’t bad enough, my connecting flight has been rescheduled. So this Friday I will have a 15 hour lay-over at the airport in Bangkok. And it seems to me that this is the absolute maximum amount of time I can wait before I can justify the expense of getting a room.
Typical.
Fuck all the fucking fuckers that fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Mother mother fuck, mother mother fuck, mother fuck, mother fuck, noich noich noich.
…there, that should tide me over until I can get a drink.
The window washers were just here. I have shinny new windows through which I can see the parking lot, a few trees, the light rail station and a lot of fucking rainclouds! :mad:
It’s time for the “X” thing to go, it’s played out.
X-Games
Right Guard X-treme deodorant
Nissan X-Terra (the ads say it has everything you need, nothing you don’t, which strikes me as just a bit presumptuous
X-this
X-that
Just give the terminology a rest already. But keep the games.
People waiting for the bus. You KNOW you’re waiting for the bus. You KNOW how much it is, or at least that it will cost “something”.
Do NOT wait until you are ON the bus to start digging around in your pockets trying to find your change, or your bus pass, the time to do that is as the bus is approaching. Don’t leave the rest of us hanging out in the freezing cold waiting (I WILL shove by your stupid ass, university pass in hand if you pull this when I’ve been freezing outside waiting for a late bus). Those already on the bus are treated to the arctic blast coming through the open bus door while you slowly and casually look through your pockets, some day I’m going to get up and say something, and it won’t be very polite. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Not to mention some of us have tight connections to our next bus. And yeah, that extra minute while you look through your crap can cost us making that next bus.
Meters. Kilograms. Seconds.
Nothing else. I do not wish to do problems that have a 80 long ton ship being pulled at 15 nautical miles per hour by a 1000 troy ounce boat ok? I have this nice little fantasy of flat out refusing to do problems that are not in metric units. In fact I smile just thinking about it. See?
My boss’s take: I avoid having parties and going to company get-togethers because I have trouble interacting with people.
My take: I avoid telling you about parties I’m having and going to company get-togethers because I simply can’t stand being around you. Sober, you’re an obnoxious, foul-mouthed dick. Drunk, you’re at least two orders of magnitude worse. Do you even listen to the stories you tell about your drunken exploits (usually ending with you cackling wildly about a random stranger being beaten up, or someone else’s property being destroyed)? Why would anyone even want you around them? What’s worse is that you act this way in front of your kids (3 and 5), and now they behave exactly like you do, only without needing alcohol to get into full swing. You want to know why I’m not throwing a housewarming party? Because I don’t want you warming my fucking house, that’s why!
I’m actually going to have a housewarming party, but it’s just going to be with friends.
I also get along great with the Chairman, Prez and VP here (in fact, with just about everyone). It’s just the guy right above me who’s an insufferable asshole.
Fuck fuck motherfucking fuck! A post, a long post, spellchecked, creative swearing, genuine rants all a-ready, and it gets eaten!!
So fuck everything, everywhere. With a tentpole. And a duck. And an alarm-clock. A really big one. Bah.
First:
To my first ex husband. Pay me the fucking money for the kids medical insurance. It is your responsibility. I am tired of every time I ask for the money your answer is always “Well I have to pay this bill and that bill first before I give you any money”. I DON’T CARE! I need that money. It is taken out of my pay check. It is not like I can hold off paying it. The only reason I have the kids on my insurance is because it is cheaper than what your company offers. I am tired of hearing about bills you owe and how you “might” sell your Beatle Albums on Ebay to get some money. Give me the money and then sell your freaking albums to pay your bills. Not giving me the money is keeping me from paying my bills you fucking dickhead!
Second:
To my second ex husband. You called and asked me to feed your cat because you are going out of town. I said sure. I am a nice person and I would not want the kitty to starve. It was only after you gave me your key (which included your truck key) that you would only be out of town for one day, WTF? You do not need me to feed your cat. Lay down a large bowl of dry food and water and he will be fine. QUIT trying to give me your apartment and truck keys and make comments about keeping them. I am not with you anymore and have no desire to have a key to your apartment or your truck. I have moved on and I have a BF. Just stop it already!
Third:
I pit myself for ever marrying the above mentioned assholes.
Motherfucking scum-sucking shit-licking fucking-ass goat-felching gutter sluts!
I would like ONE FUCKING THING to go right with the purchase of this house. And FIL? QUIT FUCKING GUILT-TRIPPING YOUR SON - I am his fucking wife, NOT you. If we want to buy the goddamn house against your wishes, we WILL. Now get the fuck over yourself and be our REALTOR, for fuck’s sake. They probably would have accepted the price reduction if you hadn’t pissed the seller off during the inspection! Keep your fucking mouth SHUT unless you are absolutely required to open it for the FUCKING SALE.
Holy shit, I am pissed.
E.
The heat in here is keeping me warm on this cold ass day. Keep it up folks!
To a good friend (though he may not be that much longer):
Stop sending me e-mail forwards of attached files that you find humorous. I can’t judge whether they are, because I delete them immediately. But when I am on dialup, I do not have the time to download a 5, 6, or 7 meg sound or movie file, especially when I am trying to download a message from a client who expects me to call him back as soon as I receive it. Which is what I’m trying to do now, only your crap that is incoming as I type this is keeping me from getting on the phone and doing business.
Yes, you have my e-mail address. It’s because I want to hear from you, not from some acquaintance five forwards ago who is sending out supposedly-funny attachments. I’ve asked you before and I’ll ask you again: cut it out!
See that snow, over there? You know, the stuff that was plowed off the now clear roadway? Just because you see that snow doesn’t mean you need to drive 20 god-damned, mother-fucking, miles per hour. You won’t go sliding out of control because you can fucking see the snow beside the highway if you drive over, oh, say, 50mph. I promise.
Part I: Dear Boss,
When you don’t have someone trained properly, you shouldn’t be surprised when people complain that said worker does not know how to do their job. Furthermore, it is your responsibility to assign coaches, so why are you asking me who trained (supposedly) said coworker? If it were me, you know very well we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And if you expect someone to get trained by their coach properly, it would help if you’d follow procedure and staff accordingly so trainer actually has the time to train as opposed to dividing their attention between training and primary supervisory responsibilities. Trainees deserve some face time. See, it says it right there on that training plan you filled it out. And while we’re talking about training, when you do follow the plan, try using actual certified training coaches. In the past, you have assigned someone to train whom you know has sloppy work habits, chooses to remain blissfully, but unacceptably, ignorant of standards and procedure, and has never been certified as a coach. One would think the insensibility of this set-up and its eventual undesireable outcome would be evident.
Guess what, boss. I do know our standards backward and forward, inside and out. That’s why you promoted me, remember? I also consider it important to our business and customers to stick to those standards. So, I’m going to coach people on those standards in accordance with my job description. When you indicate to staff, without telling me, that it’s okay to drop those standards for no good reason, you’re basically undermining me in my job and the staff can’t deal with this conflicting message (particularly those staff members whom you’re complaining haven’t been trained properly – seeing any connection there?). This does not sit well with me at all. I’m relatively certain this situation is not what upper management deems acceptable. Capice?
Part II: Dear Fool Co-Worker,
I know you weren’t trained well (or at all). I’m just as unhappy about this situation as you must be. So quit being resistant to my coaching while I’m supervising you. While you’re on the job, you still need to learn how to do things right. You can’t expect to make mistakes and not be coached on them until you receive formal training (good luck with that). In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty darn knowledgeable and can teach you a thing or two. BTW, you’ve been here longer than the very young girl who started just a couple of months ago, but she could (and does) work circles around you. Incidently, I was one of her training coaches, but she’s good mostly because she works hard. She communicates and asks questions. She strives to learn. You don’t, which to me says you really couldn’t care less. If you stopped chatting and time-wasting, you’d be perfectly capable of accomplishing your tasks with ease and timeliness. Much of our job is common sense stuff, anyway. It’s not rocket-science! And you can learn it on the job even without formal, proper training. Oh, and I’m trying very hard to be patient with you, but your attitude sucks, too. Act your age and get over it. This isn’t your first job.
Gawd, I wish I could say this directly to you both. But while I try to be professional, you’re PISSING ME OFF, dammit!
Preach it, Brother. But the one that really frosts my nuts is when they have the reportron standing in a sleet storm WHEN IT HAS ABS0-FUCKING-LUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY.
“This is Mary Robb Jackson standing outside the City/County Building where…”
Yep…nice building, babe. Maybe next time they’ll let you IN-side.
“It’s cold out there today, so moms bundle up your kids.”
Moms? MOMS? Can we please get past the point people where it is just assumed moms take care of everything dealing with children? How about “It will be below freezing all day, so parents, make sure those kids are bundled up at the bus stop.”? I know its petty, but he says it every morning and it is beginning to work my nerves.
Oy. I hear ya on the cold and the mom thing…
My vent for today is about weight issues. Hey, I know some fat people. And they are nice people! They are friendly, intelligent, curious people–keepers.
BUT.
What is it with them and the whole fat talk? Does anyone else notice this? Sample convo:
“I am so heavy. eleanor -you are so lucky, you look so good.”
Me,“well, thank you; I thnk you look good too.”
Them,“No, I can never lose weight. You know my mother used to make me clean my plate and then kids made fun of me in school and then my mom made me go on a diet and I still hate it when people say Ishouldn’t eat X or I can’t have Y.”
Me,“I think that everyone can take small steps everyday to impact on their problems, be it weight, job skills, relationships, exercise. I had the hardest time turning off the negatvie shit in my head about my looks etc. Maybe that is something you could look at for your issues with weight. It’s not easy but it can be done.”
Them," No, it’ll never work and you just don’t understand. " (leave in huff).
I have been told that the pain is too great, that the embarassment re: exercising is too much; that they’ve tried to lose weight in the past and gained it all back–the rationalizatons are endless. They suck alot of time, though, and take the focus off the fact that whilst whiling the time away bemoaning the fact that one is plagued by obesity, one isn’t doing anything to change it.
WTF? I guess the laws of physics don’t work for obese people–and changing mindsets and changing period is out of the question. :rolleyes:
I say, either stop whining about losing weight and expecting people to join your pity party or take the stairs, starting today and lose the donuts.
That is all.