Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Personal ball-washers
I guess the purpose here is to get things off my mind, and one of them happens to the asskissers of the world. I know this is an easy topic, but pretty much no one is exempt from dealing with these walking, talking piles of clothing, myself included.
Yes man, asskisser, brownnoser, personal ballwasher, suckup, all of these names are for the same person; the spineless twerp who knows they have no say in what happens, so it's best to stick to those who do, rather than actually contribute anything. Like a fucking lamprey with it's filthy circular sucker-mouth latched onto a big fish that depends on little fish to keep it alive. (marine biology reference, CHECK)
Actually, let me take part of that back.. often times, said corporate cocksucker DOES have a say in what goes on, but I've found that it's small time. Little things, like flowers out front. Pointless meetings. Emphasis on things that do not matter. Fucking christmas decorations. I feel like I'm narrating the beginning of Trainspotting here.
The two fucking useless sacs of human void I'm refering to, are of course, the two people who "run" where I work. They are fucking liars in every aspect of their pathetic lives. No one likes them. Outside of work, they are flaccid, piss-poor excuses for even a passing score at having a reason to be alive. At work, they are even more pointless wastes of oxygen. They waste time, do nothing, except keep a nice, warm, moist home for the owners' old crooked dicks.
How can one, without being the owner, make more money doing nothing and generally getting in the way than the people who actually run the place, and make things happen? This whole setup infuriates me in a way I can't describe. I should probably throw in the fact that I unintentionally made one of them cry once. Like, weep uncontrollably. Picture a grown man, crying at his stupid desk because one of his employees just called him out and threatened to quit. What a fat bitch. Seriously, just fucking die already, whale tits.
Oh, and stringbean can fucking choke on the spikey, shit-smeared cock of death, too.
Textbook fucking human leech. I hope you outlive your family, then blow your fucking original thought-less head off your scrawny, unused body.
Helpful Checklist:
1-Do your fucking job. If you don't, those that you work with are affected. Clearly, hatred will follow. And sooner or later, you're going to piss off the wrong person. (I didn't mean that as a threat, just to clarify.. I am not that "wrong person")
2-If you are called out, in any form, for any situation, you are probably doing something wrong, Correct it. Don't cry your little eyes out, then do the same thing. Asshole.
3-Be active. Be aware of what is going on. Don't be clueless.
4-Go fuck yourself.
To mop things up, I'd like to say I don't hate my job. I have a lot of fun there, actually, it's just certain people that work there that are as useful as a teaspoon exhuming a mass grave.
...it's just not going to get the job done.
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1 comment:
WOW!!!
That was great...and so true!
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