So for those that don't know...I bring in Lean Cuisines to work every week. I actually like these things. Easy to cook, some are fairly tasty and they cost like 3 dollars a pop which is FAR less than you'll spend for a hot meal if you go out everyday. Now we just moved over to a new office space recently, but the fridge where I keep my Lean Cuisines has remained in a similar central office located kitchen area. It's nice...like a little production line. You enter from the left take the food out of the fridge...walk to the microwave...turn it on....grab the fork....and paper towel and then sit back at your desk with your steaming pile of pasta that resembles pasta but it doesn't always meet the expectation. It's a lot like if you went to shake Arnold Schwarzenegger's hand and believe deep down that there is an endoskelaton of a T-800 under there but knowing it's not. It's kinda like that...ok....maybe it isn't.
So...anyways...on with the blog. Lately here at the Ultimate of Software places...we have had a bit of a lunch thief. The person is cunning...attacking people who have left a litany of these microwaveable meals in the freezer. I guess their thought is well...this person has so many...and I have so few...they probably wouldn't miss it if I took one. Well Mr. or Mrs. Panhandler...I think you're wrong. I do miss my Sesame Chicken you son of a bitch.
I've been victimized by this mofo several times in the past few months and I just learned today that someone else got one of theirs stolen. Perhaps I'm buying the wrong kind now eh? Perhaps my Chicken Pecan doesn't conform to your needs come lunch time. I'll have to remember that. I had to start taking a Sharpie and mark down my name on it. Yes...we've gone ALL the way back to 3rd grade cause Mr. or Mrs. Piggy can't seem to keep their hands off someone else's food. It's kind of friggen' ridiculous isn't it? I mean come on...you know that it's not yours. You know deep down as you take the food out of the freezer...open the container...cook it...and eat it...that it's not yours. I know what's mine and I know what isn't. If for some shit chance I walk to the fridge and have NO idea that what is mine...I don't eat it. You know what I'd do? I'd go to Publix and beg the ultra fine Deli lady for a Philly Steak and Cheese sub and pray she doesn't give me any shit (cause that shit is gooooooooood.)
Monday, December 8, 2008
"Welcome to my world"
The reason I placed the title in quotations is because that is the subject of this LONG overdue update of this fantastic blog. It does take some time for me to build up steam and write about the daily wretchedness that comes with sitting in a cubicle all day but I really should have posted this earlier. Let me just say...I hate when I hear someone say "Welcome to my world". It's such an utterly bullshit statement that really means jack shit.
See...I hate the statement but when I heard this the other day...the person that was in fact saying it is probably a reason I'm writing the blog as well. That person (who shall remain nameless) is the prototypical "Woe is Me" person. The "Woe is Me" person is someone that is just SO overworked...and SO overburdened with their job (and probably life) that they just can't stand it and feel the need to share it...cause you know my job is a piece of pumpkin fucking pie. I never say "Welcome to my world" because frankly I think you sound like a fucking idiot when you say it. I mean really...what are you saying? You are saying it as if you have this little teeny tiny world all attributed to you and "The Man" has just overrun it by dropping large amounts of shit nuggets onto your head like the poor bastard who has to feed ridiculous amounts of birds in an aviary. To me...it's quite a pathetic statement where all it means is that your are defeated and are now trying to poison newcomers into understanding your plight. Special caveat to the newcomers...don't go in...it's a trap. They just want you to come in and feel bad for them because they never thought that YOU might have experienced days like this too. I mean...you couldn't POSSIBLY have EVER had as bad a day as they have. Where were they then when you could have used the shoulder to bitch on? Oh yeah...they were eating your lunch...(next blog)
There are large amounts of people in offices that are "woe is me" people. I will say...if they're like this at work....they HAVE to brandish this behavior when they get home as well and for those poor shits that have to deal with that...I can only say one thing...You married it. "Woe is me" people are just so defeated and annoying to talk to. It's like they don't realize that God shits on everyone now and then...it's part of life, so...you get shit on. Maybe you have a massive amount of work to do by 5 pm or else you're going to hear it. Maybe "The Man" is delivering an extra heaping helping of shit burgers today with a side of special sauce. I'm willing to bet dimes to donuts that more often than not, they've sat around their desk on days with nothing to do before. I'm also willing to bet more money that they bitched that day too. Alas...woe is them and it will always be them....
See...I hate the statement but when I heard this the other day...the person that was in fact saying it is probably a reason I'm writing the blog as well. That person (who shall remain nameless) is the prototypical "Woe is Me" person. The "Woe is Me" person is someone that is just SO overworked...and SO overburdened with their job (and probably life) that they just can't stand it and feel the need to share it...cause you know my job is a piece of pumpkin fucking pie. I never say "Welcome to my world" because frankly I think you sound like a fucking idiot when you say it. I mean really...what are you saying? You are saying it as if you have this little teeny tiny world all attributed to you and "The Man" has just overrun it by dropping large amounts of shit nuggets onto your head like the poor bastard who has to feed ridiculous amounts of birds in an aviary. To me...it's quite a pathetic statement where all it means is that your are defeated and are now trying to poison newcomers into understanding your plight. Special caveat to the newcomers...don't go in...it's a trap. They just want you to come in and feel bad for them because they never thought that YOU might have experienced days like this too. I mean...you couldn't POSSIBLY have EVER had as bad a day as they have. Where were they then when you could have used the shoulder to bitch on? Oh yeah...they were eating your lunch...(next blog)
There are large amounts of people in offices that are "woe is me" people. I will say...if they're like this at work....they HAVE to brandish this behavior when they get home as well and for those poor shits that have to deal with that...I can only say one thing...You married it. "Woe is me" people are just so defeated and annoying to talk to. It's like they don't realize that God shits on everyone now and then...it's part of life, so...you get shit on. Maybe you have a massive amount of work to do by 5 pm or else you're going to hear it. Maybe "The Man" is delivering an extra heaping helping of shit burgers today with a side of special sauce. I'm willing to bet dimes to donuts that more often than not, they've sat around their desk on days with nothing to do before. I'm also willing to bet more money that they bitched that day too. Alas...woe is them and it will always be them....
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Look Who's Talking starring...My Office.
So...hello again. I tried to look over this blog to see if I mentioned the phenomena in my office known as "Baby Talk" and I was just beyond surprised when I learned I hadn't. This quite possibly is my number one office peeve. For those of you who are unsure about what it is or have not had the misfortune of working in an office setting, let me explain this vileness.
Generally it's a woman...actually I don't think I've ever had a man do the baby talk thing in an office ever. I think because if a man did do it...he would have his man card permanently taken away (if it hadn't been already) and other ritualistic beheadings (if you catch my drift). Picture a woman...usually around late 30's-early 40's....has probably resided in her job for about 10+ years so she feels quite comfortable with the people around her. She probably figures...well if they haven't taken me out to the woodshed yet for a beating, they probably never will. I would like to begin this process actually as I feel it's the only fitting punishment for giving me headaches or making my ears bleed.
You've now pictured this person and perhaps even know of said person from your office. This woman...whenever she talks to someone, generally she does this when she needs something. She decides to go back to when she had a 2 year old child and talk to you like you are that child. Usually the conversation starts with "Hiiiiii Huuuuuuuuunny, Hoooow arrrre yoooooou". These words usually start the bleeding process in my ears. If it's a particular day where my ears have no blood left in them, the sounds go directly to the rest of my brain which I'm sure causes it to bleed.
The next parts to the conversation insist that I sit there and help dem with whateva widdle teensy weensie widdle pwoblem them have. There is one person here that does this while trying to rub your shoulders which I equate to rubbing the back of your head while shoving a knife squarely through your brain. The baby talk continues while you try to either plot their death or plot your own. By the time it ends, you really just want to fix whatever the shit they need fixed or die. In an office setting it is customary to help one another so I usually just bow down to the man and fix the issue. It's not unlike a dog bowing down to its master when they have a cookie dangling in front of their face. My milkbone treat is any way that I can stop this 40 year old buffoon from coming over to my desk and making my ears bleed.
I'll have to post another time about the OTHER baby talker in my office. She is definitely worth her own column. I bet you can't wait you widdle funny wunny person you.
Generally it's a woman...actually I don't think I've ever had a man do the baby talk thing in an office ever. I think because if a man did do it...he would have his man card permanently taken away (if it hadn't been already) and other ritualistic beheadings (if you catch my drift). Picture a woman...usually around late 30's-early 40's....has probably resided in her job for about 10+ years so she feels quite comfortable with the people around her. She probably figures...well if they haven't taken me out to the woodshed yet for a beating, they probably never will. I would like to begin this process actually as I feel it's the only fitting punishment for giving me headaches or making my ears bleed.
You've now pictured this person and perhaps even know of said person from your office. This woman...whenever she talks to someone, generally she does this when she needs something. She decides to go back to when she had a 2 year old child and talk to you like you are that child. Usually the conversation starts with "Hiiiiii Huuuuuuuuunny, Hoooow arrrre yoooooou". These words usually start the bleeding process in my ears. If it's a particular day where my ears have no blood left in them, the sounds go directly to the rest of my brain which I'm sure causes it to bleed.
The next parts to the conversation insist that I sit there and help dem with whateva widdle teensy weensie widdle pwoblem them have. There is one person here that does this while trying to rub your shoulders which I equate to rubbing the back of your head while shoving a knife squarely through your brain. The baby talk continues while you try to either plot their death or plot your own. By the time it ends, you really just want to fix whatever the shit they need fixed or die. In an office setting it is customary to help one another so I usually just bow down to the man and fix the issue. It's not unlike a dog bowing down to its master when they have a cookie dangling in front of their face. My milkbone treat is any way that I can stop this 40 year old buffoon from coming over to my desk and making my ears bleed.
I'll have to post another time about the OTHER baby talker in my office. She is definitely worth her own column. I bet you can't wait you widdle funny wunny person you.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Blood flows red over the conference call line...
Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhy for the love...of God....am I on ....this god forsaken phone meeting. I'm just sitting here blogging because...there isn't much else to do. The interwebs are clogged with news of a Government bailout for scum that had a party (and will now have another party) with my money so I'd rather not read about that anymore. We've got gas issues all across the southeast. The Raiders can't seem to fire their coach (personally, I don't think they should but we're kind of past that point now aren't we?)
Honestly...right now....I'm waiting for the headline to come across on CNN.com
"Dogs and Cats...living together...Mass Hysteria!"
I'm going to go try and feign death so I can get off this phone call.
Honestly...right now....I'm waiting for the headline to come across on CNN.com
"Dogs and Cats...living together...Mass Hysteria!"
I'm going to go try and feign death so I can get off this phone call.
Monday, September 29, 2008
We wear caps and sleeves at this level son...
So....I have a beef with the way people dress at work. First, let me state that I don't always wear "nice" clothes and I have been known to wear shorts to work. The place of business that I currently reside at doesn't seem to really care what you wear to work (as evidenced by the others around me for which I am speaking about) but I still feel that it's always a good idea to at least look like you care what you look like. It's a tough balance.
What amazes me most about a lot of people is how they dress not just for the interview at a place but also for their first day. If you come in for your interview...and you're wearing anything less than a suit, you're an idiot. I mean...your parents raised you wrong or you completely thought you were signing up for work at McDonalds (and even there...you should think about at least wearing a shirt and clip on tie.) It's just doesn't make sense to wear anything less than a suit, have some pride in yourself at least. The first day...maybe you dress down a little bit given the company and what your boss told you when he hired you but you don't dress down a whole lot.
Sitting where I sit, which like previously mentioned, is not in the center of the world anymore but still I catch a lot of the interviewees coming in and I get the chance to sit with them sometimes too. It constantly amazes me the things people wear and the fact their breath reeks of vile things from the previous days meals. I always carried tic-tacs with me because I always had a phobia that the interviewer would just be like...oh...wow...fish for dinner last night? I've seen it happen.
We have new people start here all the time and it amazes me what they wear in their first day too. A lot of them dress like they have been here for years, beat up jeans...t-shirt...maybe a polo if we're lucky. We're even luckier if the polo doesn't seem to have a stain on it. This new guy I have in my office today apparently borrowed his first day shirt from his grandfather because it reeks of old age. Then the little prick tried to shake my hand off when I stood up to greet him. Firm hand shakes are good...but let's not try to break my hand off bitch. The dead fish handshake is reserved for guys of different sexual orientation or want...to be a guy of a different sexual orientation. I mean seriously..if you go to shake a guys hand and he lays the dead fish on you, should you have the ability to kick him in the vagina?
I just think the dress code goes to a depressing decrease in civility. The old "you look and act like a slob, well that's how you'll be treated" credo my mother tried to instill in me at a young age should still be true today. Point is...you have to dress to a certain level at work, no matter where it is. If you're working at McDonalds and you're serving my kids their fries on the way to our skiing trip, it does in fact matter that your clip on tie is attached correctly because well...if it isn't...and it falls in my drink...and I get sick from your fungus laden articles of clothing. Then I'm going to be angry and I'm going to write about you in my blog and then you'll be shamed. Just think about it this way...dress good enough where you can feel some bit of pride when you leave the house...but not good enough that you out dress your boss. They don't like that and your yearly raise will reflect their disdain for you having a better closet than them. Trust me...I know.
What amazes me most about a lot of people is how they dress not just for the interview at a place but also for their first day. If you come in for your interview...and you're wearing anything less than a suit, you're an idiot. I mean...your parents raised you wrong or you completely thought you were signing up for work at McDonalds (and even there...you should think about at least wearing a shirt and clip on tie.) It's just doesn't make sense to wear anything less than a suit, have some pride in yourself at least. The first day...maybe you dress down a little bit given the company and what your boss told you when he hired you but you don't dress down a whole lot.
Sitting where I sit, which like previously mentioned, is not in the center of the world anymore but still I catch a lot of the interviewees coming in and I get the chance to sit with them sometimes too. It constantly amazes me the things people wear and the fact their breath reeks of vile things from the previous days meals. I always carried tic-tacs with me because I always had a phobia that the interviewer would just be like...oh...wow...fish for dinner last night? I've seen it happen.
We have new people start here all the time and it amazes me what they wear in their first day too. A lot of them dress like they have been here for years, beat up jeans...t-shirt...maybe a polo if we're lucky. We're even luckier if the polo doesn't seem to have a stain on it. This new guy I have in my office today apparently borrowed his first day shirt from his grandfather because it reeks of old age. Then the little prick tried to shake my hand off when I stood up to greet him. Firm hand shakes are good...but let's not try to break my hand off bitch. The dead fish handshake is reserved for guys of different sexual orientation or want...to be a guy of a different sexual orientation. I mean seriously..if you go to shake a guys hand and he lays the dead fish on you, should you have the ability to kick him in the vagina?
I just think the dress code goes to a depressing decrease in civility. The old "you look and act like a slob, well that's how you'll be treated" credo my mother tried to instill in me at a young age should still be true today. Point is...you have to dress to a certain level at work, no matter where it is. If you're working at McDonalds and you're serving my kids their fries on the way to our skiing trip, it does in fact matter that your clip on tie is attached correctly because well...if it isn't...and it falls in my drink...and I get sick from your fungus laden articles of clothing. Then I'm going to be angry and I'm going to write about you in my blog and then you'll be shamed. Just think about it this way...dress good enough where you can feel some bit of pride when you leave the house...but not good enough that you out dress your boss. They don't like that and your yearly raise will reflect their disdain for you having a better closet than them. Trust me...I know.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Luuuuuunch
I had a Publix sub today. First time I ate out all week. I've been trying to be "good" with the wallet and good with the gut. For some reason, I actually like the Lean Cuisine meals. The damn things are quite tasty...they really are. That Sesame Chicken one...Christ...I could eat that everyday. They're quick (they cook in 7 mins or less), they're cheap (3 bucks for lunch? Come on where are you gonna get a deal like that unless you're Vito Corleone?), and well they certainly aren't that bad for you (hence the reason they call them Lean Cuisine right?)
Anyways...I didn't have one of those today. I went out to get a simple Publix roast beef and cheese sub with a little mayo. That's all I get...that's all I have to tell the lady (well I do have to tell her twice because apparently I give her too much info at the top of the ordering process.) I did think about ordering the Philly steak and cheese sub. It's uber good there. I don't know what they do...but it just tastes awesome. The problem is...and I was talking about this with my friend at work (one of few mind you) and we talked about the problems ordering that sub.
See...Publix is a supermarket for those that don't know. Yes they make subs but they also cut fruit, seafood, meat, etc...so it's not just a sub shop that is just happy you're there for THEIR roast beef sandwich. These people want you to order the ham and cheese sub...put 2 things on it...and then go down aisle 5 for your All Bran. The fact that they actually have to turn on the stove, heat it up...throw some meat on it...put the chopped mushrooms and onions on it...and cook it...makes them hate you and your hearty meaty sandwich. You have now asked them to do "extra" work. All of the sudden...you're the asshole. Ever try to order one of these things at noon? I tried once and Jesus Christ..I thought I was going to get my ass kicked by this broad. Needless to say...I stopped asking for the sandwich. Despite it's goodness, it isn't worth my life. It's a sad commentary when the workers of America don't want to do their jobs but hey that's another blog.
It's always funny because it's not JUST the "worker" that gives you shit, it's the lady behind you too. Let me describe her...generally around 70...wears open toed shoes when she absolutely shouldn't (due to the gout)...and she should just be wearing a pin that says "I'm a royal pain in the ass, just ask me". This is the lady that wants to have 4 Ultimate Subs made for her at once because this is her one trip to Publix during the week and damn you for making HER wait. I'm mindful of others...sorry...I was a god damn Boy Scout once. I can't help caring about the time I spend at the counter there. I just hate the people that order the 6 subs with the most specific ingredients. "I want an Ultimate without the turkey, ham, or swiss...6 olives...2 banana peppers...I said 2 not 3...lettuce, tomato, fresh chopped onions...etc." These bitches go on for 20 minutes and they don't even bother to turn around and go..."OH...I'm sorry...I really am not the only person on the Earth right now...wow...I had no idea."
Since people like this exist...I should shut up and order my steak and cheese...feel the wrath of Delores the Sandwich Nazi...endure her spitting in my steak and cheese and just taste Philly goodness but I can't. I give a little bit up so that I don't have to deal with the items I stated above. Now...if you don't mind, I'm going to go finish my half jar of mayo sub with side of roast beef and cheese. Mmmm juicy.
Anyways...I didn't have one of those today. I went out to get a simple Publix roast beef and cheese sub with a little mayo. That's all I get...that's all I have to tell the lady (well I do have to tell her twice because apparently I give her too much info at the top of the ordering process.) I did think about ordering the Philly steak and cheese sub. It's uber good there. I don't know what they do...but it just tastes awesome. The problem is...and I was talking about this with my friend at work (one of few mind you) and we talked about the problems ordering that sub.
See...Publix is a supermarket for those that don't know. Yes they make subs but they also cut fruit, seafood, meat, etc...so it's not just a sub shop that is just happy you're there for THEIR roast beef sandwich. These people want you to order the ham and cheese sub...put 2 things on it...and then go down aisle 5 for your All Bran. The fact that they actually have to turn on the stove, heat it up...throw some meat on it...put the chopped mushrooms and onions on it...and cook it...makes them hate you and your hearty meaty sandwich. You have now asked them to do "extra" work. All of the sudden...you're the asshole. Ever try to order one of these things at noon? I tried once and Jesus Christ..I thought I was going to get my ass kicked by this broad. Needless to say...I stopped asking for the sandwich. Despite it's goodness, it isn't worth my life. It's a sad commentary when the workers of America don't want to do their jobs but hey that's another blog.
It's always funny because it's not JUST the "worker" that gives you shit, it's the lady behind you too. Let me describe her...generally around 70...wears open toed shoes when she absolutely shouldn't (due to the gout)...and she should just be wearing a pin that says "I'm a royal pain in the ass, just ask me". This is the lady that wants to have 4 Ultimate Subs made for her at once because this is her one trip to Publix during the week and damn you for making HER wait. I'm mindful of others...sorry...I was a god damn Boy Scout once. I can't help caring about the time I spend at the counter there. I just hate the people that order the 6 subs with the most specific ingredients. "I want an Ultimate without the turkey, ham, or swiss...6 olives...2 banana peppers...I said 2 not 3...lettuce, tomato, fresh chopped onions...etc." These bitches go on for 20 minutes and they don't even bother to turn around and go..."OH...I'm sorry...I really am not the only person on the Earth right now...wow...I had no idea."
Since people like this exist...I should shut up and order my steak and cheese...feel the wrath of Delores the Sandwich Nazi...endure her spitting in my steak and cheese and just taste Philly goodness but I can't. I give a little bit up so that I don't have to deal with the items I stated above. Now...if you don't mind, I'm going to go finish my half jar of mayo sub with side of roast beef and cheese. Mmmm juicy.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Back to the center cubicle
Ok...so I'm actually not in the center cubicle anymore. I'm actually not even at the same company anymore come to think of it. The fact that I have searched out and found my old blog and after reading it...deciding to post again should tell you. I should just change the name of this blog to, "I just need to win the fucking lottery". I hate offices...I hate office jobs...but mostly it's the money that keeps me coming back for more. Though...even that has me questioning coming back lately. I think I've threatened (in my mind of course) to just decide to take the highway...not stop ...not come back and live Michael Landon Highway to Heaven style....complete with sad outro music from "The Incredible Hulk". It probably won't happen...we'll see though.
I do think I need to win the lottery though...so I can stop going from office to office and meeting the same people. I've talked about this phenomena with various people before. No matter where you work...no matter what office...what corner of the world. All offices have the same exact people in them. Not...the SAME person but you get what I mean...the same kind of people. The same idiotic comment people (Oh..I'm Ok..you know... for a Monday), the whiners (Man I got all this work I have to do today, yet I need to walk to Starbucks), the cheap eaters that go around and try to raid meetings so they can eat free food, the loud talkers, the baby talkers, and the assholes. Now you might think oh...well lot's of people are assholes, they don't all work in offices. Whilst this is very true, it takes a special bit of asshole to get mentioned here.
So...what I am going to do is pay a bit more attention to my blog here and actually write this time. I think it will help me throw out a little frustration and deal with the fact I'm sitting in this office...surrounded by the previously mentioned list of office dwellers who are...like me...scared shitless to leave the protective nest of our offices. We'll talk soon.
I do think I need to win the lottery though...so I can stop going from office to office and meeting the same people. I've talked about this phenomena with various people before. No matter where you work...no matter what office...what corner of the world. All offices have the same exact people in them. Not...the SAME person but you get what I mean...the same kind of people. The same idiotic comment people (Oh..I'm Ok..you know... for a Monday), the whiners (Man I got all this work I have to do today, yet I need to walk to Starbucks), the cheap eaters that go around and try to raid meetings so they can eat free food, the loud talkers, the baby talkers, and the assholes. Now you might think oh...well lot's of people are assholes, they don't all work in offices. Whilst this is very true, it takes a special bit of asshole to get mentioned here.
So...what I am going to do is pay a bit more attention to my blog here and actually write this time. I think it will help me throw out a little frustration and deal with the fact I'm sitting in this office...surrounded by the previously mentioned list of office dwellers who are...like me...scared shitless to leave the protective nest of our offices. We'll talk soon.
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