The saga is over. The train has left the station.The door is SHUT, the key thrown away. My 30 day notice is dwindling down to the end; in a matter of 5 days my skin is going to clear up, shoulder and neck muscles are going to relax, and the headaches will be gone.
Where am I going? I dont know. As long as I dont have to make the agonizing commute to North Dallas everyday to a building that smells like a mixture of cat piss and gym sweat. As long as I dont have to go to a whole different FLOOR just to use the bathroom because the one's on my floor are so putrid and vile that stepping into them is the equivalent of stepping into an open sewer in Calcutta in the summertime. On top of that, if you do happen to take a chance and use those bathrooms, BEWARE of the last stall if it's closed. If you look down and see some distinctive black faux alligator shoes sitting in there, turn tale and leave him be. The shadows don't lie.....must be nice to get that "excited" about work. Ew.
No more listening to one of our senior VP's BUTCHER the English language everytime he speaks. You would think that a man in a position such as his would know that there is a difference in using "specific" versus "pacific". Yes, he uses "pacific" instead of "specific". He also says "quershtun" instead of "question". "Mangers" (like the one sweet baby jesus was put in) instead of "managers". It goes on and on. His emails are even worse; I bet he would put some backwards "R's" and "S's" in his emails if it were possible. I wish I could say he was country, but that would be a lie. The man is straight.up. illiterate.
I guess its going to be a little boring now. EVERYDAY I had a story to share; be it about the nature of the job itself, or many of the people at the job that provided so much entertainment (observational, not intentional). Be it the snaggle-toothed broke-down womanizer we call Sammich-man (inside joke)that stinks to high hell (he has a automatic scent-spray thing on his desk, like the ones they put in bathrooms.....allegedly it used to go off about every 5 minutes), the one gal that looks like a broke-down Wilma Flintstone everytime she wears her leopard-print dress and red hooker heels, the aforementioned VP that talks like Brer Bear or Brer Rabbit, or the stories from the woman's bathroom (which apparently, is more stank than the men's...), they all provided endless fodder. And the corporate cubicle mishaps??? A Dilbert cartoon has NOTHING on this. For being one of the largest corporations in the world, they sure did leave a lot of loose ends laying around. I guess because they were too busy cookin' them books. ahahaahahaha oooo...I better be careful. The last time I mentioned some book-cooking at work, they sabotaged my workload to make it look like I wasn't working. NOT. COOL. But then it was kinda funny and obvious at the same time...
Anywho, I am free from my cubicle jail cell. I am free to do everything I have always wanted to do; or nothing at all. Funny thing is, all these choices makes my head ache and my muscles tense up all over again; but that's ok. I just think of pacific happy thoughts and try not to quershtun the future, and I laugh all over again.
No comments:
Post a Comment