Comitted to the idea that the internet shoud stop takin itself so danm seriously.
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I sware to God when I die they are going to put on my gravestone, "He went to meetings." And if they ever make the internet illegal and start roundin up all the folks who created this big digital monstor on humanity way back in the 1990s as war criminols, I will tell the judge that I am inocent, cause alls I ever did was sit my ass numb off in meetings.
SHARE for Godsake, like we are danm substence abusers or somthin. Sombodey please tell me i am not the only persen in the world who goes to this kind of freakin meeting.
And all of the danm complaining abbout "long hours". This place is empty beffore 8:30 and emptey at ten aftor 5, but everyone always says, "I work 60 hours a week"
Then the little pain in the ass shows up all huffing and puffin holding all these danm folders and questionaires for "input" plus for us to "evaluate" the whole thing. Next she talks for 10 minuts about how at the end of the meeting we are goingto have "two speciel guests."
Then people start "sharing" about how busy they are. People love to complane in these stupid bitchfest "sharing" meetings and my codependent little toadface superior loves to hear it.
Oh, I allmost forgot, one womon, who we call Pollyanna behind her back keeps talkin about how we shoud all get togethor for a road trip to Six Flags or else a barbacue at her house or somthin. She's allways talkin about how "morale is so low at Cyberblop." Yeah, right, stop firing people every week for no freakin reasen.
An hour lator by the time your ass is conpletely asleep the "speciel guests" arive, and it is always the same two geusts: the toady lady's two bosses, the mean skinny guy allways dressed in black, and the Lady Who Screams at Everyone. These two nevor sit down at the meetings, insted they stand there leaning agianst the whiteboard with there arms crossed frowning at us all.
The mean skinny guy speaks first, in a low stern tone for 15 minuts abuot how we all have to work harder, and if we dont like it, dont let the door hit you in the ass, because no one here at this company...NO ONE is indispensible, and, infact, dont even worry about it, because WE will throw your ass out of here for you: ALL of your asses, if neceserry.
Then the Lady Who Screamms at Everyone talks, and just blows her wad, stampin her foot and slappin her hand on the formica conference table so that it makes this awful sound with her rings knockin it screamin her frigin head off at us. Then they both leave, and a minute later you can see them drive off thru the window of the conferrence room which looks out over the parkin lot and by now its only 3 PM or so and no one ever knows even where the hell they are going at that time of day.
The meetings allways end with one of the marketing guys, this nervuous weasely little jerk screammin at one of the system Admin guys, this big warty tub of lard from one of the former Communist countries who smells and has this Russian accent so strong I sware he must be making it up. Behind his back we call him 'Count Stroganoff.' These two guys, the big fat Russain and the weasely guy deep down are cowords. They will scream only when the Lady who Screams at Everyone is not arround.
And while they fight, Count Stroganoff waves his hand at him and says things like "Bolderdash!" and "Fiddelsticks!" which he probly thinks are realy cool insults to say in this countrey.
Meanwhile, the tiny toady lady, who is the boss of these two cowords is too afraid to get them to stop. It is during this time that everyone else in the room sits there queitly and fills out their danm "evualuation feedback" forms. If you do not fill them out you get in trouble.
I said, "Sir, there is no reasen to scream at me." He actualy apollogized to me and I said "I forgive you." He did not mention what it was that he was so mad at the old basterd about, but I imagin somthing hapenned while I was in the hospitol.