Dang Dang Dang
8 May 2001
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Dang Dang Dang
8 May 2001
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8:58 AM: And not only that, I've been up since 7 AM. Ugh. Why, why, I ask.
Well, the alarm's going to go off in an hour anyway. My stomach is bothering me. But maybe I'll lay down just the same, before going in to hear the bloody details of the day's news.
Ever find yourself wondering if your memory of the day before is real or just a hallucination?
5:32 PM: OK. It's not bad enough that they canned like 10 or 12 people in my group alone today - way out of proportion, completely stupid, completely shortsighted. Including one of the only other people who knows how to work on the stuff that I work on. While keeping lots of the upper management parasites. No, that's not nearly enough salt.
Now there are two crew-cut gym-chunky beeper-flaunting Dockers-wearing musclehead assholes walking around the deserted floor, checking out all the work stations - they must be the facilities people from the other office, since they canned our perfectly wonderful people - and sniggering to themselves at the action figures and other colorful decorations. "Heh. Jeezus. Whatta buncha faggots."
I did not make that up. Motherfuckers. Where did I put that rock salt?
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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