profanity ensues
well everyone, here's a work story for you so you can fully understand why facing the day seems so impossible to me sometimes.
you know how all i do is open mail and then alphabetize it. well, once i get through a stack of like 600 statements i give them to my supervisor, the cosmetologist...all alphabetized A-Z and pretty and everything. well, her job is to enter them into the database and put them aside to be filed. well, yesterday she hands me this big ol' mail bin that's full of loose statements that she has entered onto the database. naively, i assumed that contained within the box was a slightly messier, slightly less pretty assortment of stacks of 600 or so statements organized A-Z. no, actually, there doesn't really seem to be any order to it at all. there are random stacks of S, P, Y, W etc... now this, i just can't understand at all. there is literally no sense or organization to it. there were no post it notes stuck in there to indicate "this stack right here is g-p or anything like that. it was just paper, stacked on top of paper, stacked on top of paper in no order at all.
so now, when they need to be filed, its going to be a random search through the filing cabinet every time you get done putting one statement away. its going to be a nightmare. i'm going to quit before this happens, because i absolutely refuse to deal with this. i just don't understand how you can get something that is organized and then completely fuck it up. there's no reason. just fucking do it in an organized manner and then this work won't need to be done over and over and over again. it makes no motherfucking sense at all. goddammit motherfucking assmonger fish patrol monkeyass dick asshole.
you know how all i do is open mail and then alphabetize it. well, once i get through a stack of like 600 statements i give them to my supervisor, the cosmetologist...all alphabetized A-Z and pretty and everything. well, her job is to enter them into the database and put them aside to be filed. well, yesterday she hands me this big ol' mail bin that's full of loose statements that she has entered onto the database. naively, i assumed that contained within the box was a slightly messier, slightly less pretty assortment of stacks of 600 or so statements organized A-Z. no, actually, there doesn't really seem to be any order to it at all. there are random stacks of S, P, Y, W etc... now this, i just can't understand at all. there is literally no sense or organization to it. there were no post it notes stuck in there to indicate "this stack right here is g-p or anything like that. it was just paper, stacked on top of paper, stacked on top of paper in no order at all.
so now, when they need to be filed, its going to be a random search through the filing cabinet every time you get done putting one statement away. its going to be a nightmare. i'm going to quit before this happens, because i absolutely refuse to deal with this. i just don't understand how you can get something that is organized and then completely fuck it up. there's no reason. just fucking do it in an organized manner and then this work won't need to be done over and over and over again. it makes no motherfucking sense at all. goddammit motherfucking assmonger fish patrol monkeyass dick asshole.
posted by R. Peeps at 1:18 PM
5 Comments:
dude, I was just about to say the same thing.
more or less anyway.
but still.
(cue twilight zone music)
yeah...sometimes i'm not just angry, i sortof become a medium for vulgarities.
Squire, you are the best swearer ever.
wow...itallics...that's amazing...it makes me seem like so much more of a superhero.
I know! It's so open to interpretation... do the italics indicate a certain vocal intonation in the delivery of Squire... such as a gentle, laughing, "Oh, Squire!" - or a reverent hushed "Squire!" - or does it make you look/sound like less of a mere mortal and more of an idea/concept... italics are pretty fucking amazing... oh, and congrats on the job-quitting and resisting the smoky-awful taste of cloves.
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