I find it hilarious that the Turnip actually thinks I'm going to do work for him after his instrumental role in getting me fired. It's not my problem he has no idea how to work the files, or how to research, or how to analyze the contracts, or how to write the letter to the client, or how to count to 10, or how to draw inside the lines.
Maybe if he didn't spend the better part of his legal career writing briefs in crayon on the back of gravy stained place mats, he wouldn't need me now.
I've decided that in the 13 days I have left at the office, I will finish work only for colleagues I happen to like. Those TWO will not get fucked by me. Because that's just not nice. And I'm a nice girl.
I don't even get bothered by the subways anymore. I couldn't care less about the filth, or the bleak atmosphere. But I still hate the annoying tourists, so happy, with their dumb smiles and laughter. Shut up! It's morning rush hour. Yes, you're on the right god damned train to see the Statue of Liberty. For god's sake. And get out of my way when we get off the train. See the stairs? Make for the stairs, you retards, don't just stand there, looking around. There's nothing to see here! It's an underground subway station with leaking pipes. MOVE!
I hate Tourist Season. But I hate the Turnip even more. Maybe once he learns to write with a shiny number two pencil, he'll learn how to do his own work. Maybe.
3 comments:
Listen very carefully.
I will say this only once.
Before you go, infect their computers with a virus - something like WorldMeltdownA2Z (OK I made that up, but you get the gist).
Then send their wives photos of them in compromising situations with pole dancers (photoshop them, who cares?).
Revenge, unlike chili, is a dish served cold.
Say hi to Mom for me.
On second thoughts, better not!
if you move to Europe you have to promise to keep the blog going ...
you kill me !!:)
The one time I got fired from a job, they sat me down at 9:30ish and said, "You have to be out of the building by 12."
As I was sitting at my desk, numbly cleaning stuff out, one of the analysts who had always been a complete prick, asked me to do some work for him. I said, "I just got fired, didn't you hear?" He said, "Yeah, but don't you want to do this work for me?"
Riiiiiiiiiiight. Needless to say, I spent the rest of my short career at that place burning all my Napster (this was pre-lawsuit Napster) files to CD.
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