Tuesday, January 8, 2008

WTF?! Who is this beeeitch?

So, wanna puppy?
seriously, ya want one?
I've got 8 of them

The above haiku is beautiful poetry and also a plea for someone to take these little shits off of my hands. I mean, lovely perfectly mannered puppies.

WTF?!

So it was Autumn, I do not remember when but I know it was cooler outside because I had already developed a more pure hatred for Greyskull, and had even come to hate the lunch meetings, which is strange because there was free food there and you could shoot me in the foot and hand me a sandwich and I would chalk the day up as a success.

I hated Greyskull at this point for a number of reasons, one of which was that she was apparently put on this Earth to annoy me, with the constant meetings in which she spent the first 2 or 3 minutes just looking at me with a smile on her face, trying to get me to giggle or lick the exercise ball she sat on or God knows what else. The meetings usually devolved into her pissing and moaning about how some unknown person told her I intimidated them, and how I need to try to be more approachable, and how she has the same problem because she is an imposing figure. Then they would get even worse, because for some reason she had a problem with me rolling my eyes and sitting with my arms crossed, saying it showed I was annoyed. SO I guess she was a good judge of character.

Anyway, it was at this particular manager's meeting that she announced the Derks was joining our completely demoralized, barely functioning team. Let me explain to you, gentle reader, what we devolved into: We began, upon my being hired, as a well oiled machine, gently pumping our technical knowledge into the soft, slightly freckled underbelly of the law firm, rhythmically slapping our fantastic customer service skills against the taint that is 95% of the lawyers in that building. Our old manager was hands off, and we liked it that way, preferring to kind of police ourselves, or more accurately attempt to withstand the constant barrage of insults from old man Lollipop, who was like that older brother who had a large nose and wore pink shirts: loveable, and a great technical mind (You like how I throw in a myriad of insults with my compliments? That technique was invented by me, yo). Anyway, Greyskull had turned our genuine love of working into a doldrums of terror, making it so no one wanted to show up, and when they did, no one wanted to work. Kind of like the Chiefs, with Greyskull being Herm Edwards.

So back to this meeting. Greyskull is standing there, droning on about communication skills and how it is more important to be nice to people than to have any technical knowledge, which we would later learn was a harbinger of doom, as these speeches led to the hiring of Flanders and Santa, and she dropped the bomb on us she had been hiding under her tight leather skirt like a midget who she sat on and got stuck in her love folds: She had hired someone without letting us meet, interview or berate, like we had all been during our hiring processes.

I began paying attention at this point, because it seemed so wrong for so many reasons. Who the hell was this skank this wildebeest had hired? Why was she being sat by me? Was it a test? a trial to see how much crap I would put up with before I quit and Greyskull won? And though she claimed Derks had worked at the law firm for years, why had I never seen her? Was it possible she was simply Greyskull, wearing a disguise in order to annoy me further?

Things got worse when I learned P-Mist was moving, breaking up our "Cube of Cool"...called that because we all just hung out and listened to Steely Dan all day, chillin like villains. Those were the times. I know Max misses Steely Dan. Soon after P-Mist moved, I saw all manner of what I call "Terrorist memorabilia" but you might call "wedding photos and a few throw pillows" going up. The stories flew about how everyone knew Derks was a tattletale, and would get me fired as soon as possible, and how we should all watch what we said around her, as she would tell management anything we did. Fuck that, Stevester is a man, not some petty little boy. I am going to ignore her completely and look at her crazy every time she attempted to initiate conversation with me, that's what I'll do to that poopyhead!

More later, I thought my Lilian scam was over but apparently it is not, she (he?) wrote last night to try to make me feel bad...

3 comments:

Natasha said...

What do you mean by "More Later," I need to know how this one ends!!!!

Stevester said...

Well I wanted to explain my diploma for communication first, and figured it would make the post too long. Plus, I really wanted to nail down how much I hated you, so there's that.

wbabbit said...
This comment has been removed by the author.