To my pompous new dickwad boss:
Do you know the definition of a conversation? You make an observation, or ask a question, or give an instruction, and I reply. A conversation does not consist of you thinking out loud at me with a vacant expression in your eyes. I stand there like a goon, thinking that some response is needed, or my attendance is necessary, when my real purpose is to provide you an audience while you pontificate about yourself and what you are thinking about at the moment.
Jerk! I have three other attorneys to assist. My time is too much in demand to provide this ego-stroking to you. The time to do your thinking regarding what to communicate about is before you start talking, not while you talk.
For those with the patience to wade through it, here’s an example of a “conversation” with this boob:
Him: “Um, first I’m going to call this guy back and tell him . . . oh, wait, I have to talk to the judge first. Do you know his number? Never mind, here it is. Then I have to give dictate a letter later on. I’m going to copy it to the client. I had better do that soon so I can get it done before lunch . . . um . . . then after lunch I’d better check the mail . . . has the mail come yet? I guess not, it’s only 9:00 . . . yap yap yap yap yap and so forth and so on . . .”
Me: “Did you have anything to give me? I’ve got a stack of tapes waiting for me back at my desk.”
Him: “Yeah, I’m going to give you a letter to do later . . . but it’s not ready yet . . . blah blah blah”
Aaaaarrrrrgh! Thanks for letting me gripe. He’s really getting to me today for some reason.
To the loud woman 20 feet away from my cube:
That’s it. I’ve had it. I expect to come into work tomorrow to find that my cube walls have been padded and my chair has been transformed into a straightjacket. That would be the treatment I so richly deserve after spending my days listening to you.
EVERYONE within 50 feet of you can hear every GODDAMN thing you say. Every time you “harrumph” after an annoying phone call. Every donkey brawl you call a laugh. Every fucking conversation. All of it. We ALL know the intimate details of your life.
Rumor has it you are NOT hard of hearing. No. You are just an insanely LOUD individual. I’m sick and tired of it.
You drive me crazy, evil bullhorn woman. So here’s a tip from all of us to you: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!
…phew, I’m feeling much better now.
Woah! Do you work in my office? I have the same problem!
Is your woman a fat, short, troll-like creature with scary red hair who leaves her phone ringer on instead of turning it to voice mail so that it rings for hours on the highest volume level (because she’s mostly deaf which may account for the yelling on the phone) and says she’s going on a diet but about 5 minutes ago raided the break room, eating more deserts and pastries than the rest of the office combined waaaay before you had a chance to go down and even get one?
Cause mine is.
Talk about coincidences . . .
The day after I post this bitch, my supervisor calls me in and says she’s reassigning me away from Mr. “I need an audience while I think out loud.” The new guy is great and we get along well.
Whoo! The mods of this board have a lot more influence than I knew. Thanks for pulling some strings, guys. You saved my life.