I hate work?

Situation 1. When I’m dressed somewhat similar to a co-worker. Annoying co-worker: “Did you two call each other this morning before you drove to work?”

Voice  in my head: “Hey you smelly cunt, we’re not Danny DeVito and Arnold  Schwarzenegger and much like that movie, you and your tired joke haven’t  been funny in 25 years.  There are only so many colors in this world that Banana Republic and Kenneth Cole provide so there’s a decent chance I will be wearing the same color as a male co-worker at least twice a week. By  the way, you’re not obeying our dress code with your ratty ass flats  and frayed tank top that exposes your canned hams for arms.  I bet your pussy stinks, too.”

Situation 2. The Calendar Quoter. Annoying co-worker:  “Is it Friday yet?  It’s humpday, halfway there!  Happy Friday!”

Voices  in my head: “Look on the dark side of things, it will be Monday in a  few days, we’ll still be stuck at this same job in a few years, and god  willing, you’ll be dead in about 150 weeks. I don’t know  why you’re counting down for the weekend where the only difference  between your shithole apartment and your cubicle is that you get paid  near minimum wage to sit around here all day and you have a computer  made before Steve Jobs got cancer in front of you.”

Situation 3. The person who is always looking to quit. “I swear I’m going to leave here if they get on my ass one more time.  I have already updated my resume and have an interview for a manager position next week.”

Voices  in my head: “Listen, I’m down 19 in my fantasy league with only Willis  McGahee playing tonight so my day is far worse than yours, asshole.  I  hope you get a new job with the Navy SEALs torturing terrorists because  I’m ready to waterboard my-fucking-self if I have to endure five more  minutes in your presence.  You need this job more than it needs you because you have to pay alimony for two nappy kids and you drive a rusty Honda Accord.  Sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and shuffle some more documents before I suicide bomb this place.”

Situation 4. Bag burglar. “I can’t believe it, someone stole my lunch!  I’m reporting this to HR and someone will be fired!” Voices in my head: “There’s a shithole Subway down the street and you could skip a lunch or 50, Jabba the Cunt.  Also, I know who ate your sodium bomb in the Lean Cuisine wrapper.  It  was Herman in processing and as bad as you think your life sucks right  now at least you aren’t forced to steal lunches at work like that  miserable prick.  He’ll be fired in a month anyway and you just avoided 500 calories.  Win-win in my book.

I  have a couple more examples but I need to get back to work before my  boss comes over and asks me; “You working hard or hardly working?”

Fuck me.


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