Allow me to set this up. . . I am in a small office that is made up of several small offices surrounding a large room. In the large room is the common secretary/executive assistant/whatever.
Dear Madam,
You are not as busy as you constantly pretend you are. Running around like a confused squirrel in the middle of the road doesn’t fool anybody. I know you make wallpapers out of digitized pictures of your grandchildren all day.
Can you please turn it down a notch or two. We can hear you.
We don’t need to hear every fucking thread of stream of consciousness that runs across your minuscule cranium. Hearing this dialog: “Ok, I need to grab a bite of salad first before I run down to the supply closet to get some supplies and then when I finish my salad I can finish my latest wallpaper isn’t she cute hold on I’ve got another call coming in it might be work related hello oh hi Sarah I’m just so busy today I don’t know what I’m going to do can you hang on a second …” does not help me focus on my SDMB threads.
Lose the accent. I might be calling the kettle black, but your 12 octaves above middle C do not mesh with the horrible redneck accent. I wish I could represent this to you in written form but I would have to dig up Mr. Twain himself to accurately represent the knitting needles in my ears. Ok, I’ll try. “DAY-VID!!! THAY-ERS A CAWL FAUOUR YEWWWW!!!” ugh.
I can hear you screaming around the whole office all day long. Why are you whispering when you come in my office? Do you think there is a magical auditory barrier at my office door? I’m sorry to have to call you out the other day (Me: “Why are you whispering.”) but I think you actually got the point. And hunching over apologetically and bowing doesn’t matter. It adds to the distraction. Just walk in, get what you want and leave. I’m not the fucking pope.
I know you leave 10 seconds after I do.
Ok, it’s business casual, not pajama time. The male equivalent to what you’re wearing is cut-off jogging pants and a t-shirt. Actually, that’s exactly what you have on except the jogging pants aren’t cut off. Is it that hard to find a pair of khaki pants and a button up shirt? Your fucking grandchildren aren’t here to spit anything on you, you’ll be ok.
Announcing that you’re eating the jelly beans does not keep them off your ass.
Everytime your cutesy screen saver locks up your computer, quit marching around announcing you got the “blue screen of day-uth”. Oooo, Suzy-computer-literate can say “blue screen of death”. How about “Landscapes-and-Grandchildren-screen-of-death”? And I guess it can technically be called a system, but nobody who knows what the fuck they’re talking about calls their own pc a system. Call it a computer or a machine. You don’t sound smart when you say “My system got the blue-screen-of-day-uth, my system got the blue-screen-of-day-uth!”
I know I’ve been over this but in REAL TIME I swear to god once again you announced to the whole office in an annoying sing-song voice: “I’m about to sta-ar-ar-arve. I’ve got to eat my sal-a-a-ad!”
Had me one of those once. Well, I inherited this one when I started this job. Know what I found out real soon? She didn’t have a fucking clue about how to be an administrative assistant. She quit soon after I wrote a very detailed job description for administrative assistant. Turns out my predecessor did his plus her job.
Now I got me a for real honest to goodness administrative assistant. Life is good.
Seriously, Bruce_Daddy whoever she reports to needs to make sure she knows what she is supposed to be doing. Seems to me that cut down on the wallpapering and the system with the blue screenof day-uth.
Now excuse me, I’m going to lunch. "I’m ab-a-out to sta-ar-ar-arve to daaayuth!
I wonder if she could be the Pwincess Pwecious’ mother? The Pwincess just gave birth to the Infanta Pwecious, so your coworker might just be the Dowager Empwess Pwecious!
Already mentioned, but this is so effing funny I’m astounded. You have painted us such a vivid caricature of this woman I want to just sit here and giggle at the thought.
She just walked by and I noticed that she had a large golden roster on a larger golden chain. I found it hard not to comment on her big gold cock bling bling.
Oh, wow. I think you’re in my brain. If I hear someone say, “Could you put this into The System?” in place of “Could you make an Excel spreadsheet out of this?” one more time, I will burst into flame and melt slowly.
