Monday, November 24, 2014
Stupidity on overload
I can't wait for Thanksgiving.
Yes, I'm thankful for the time I will be spending with my family, but I'm most Thankful for getting the hell away from Little Bookman.
Hate is a strong word, so let me say I can't stand this lying idiot.
Here's the latest act of stupidity.
At Wonderland, we all have a computer that we have to use, it's password protected. But everyone who works here is supposed to have the password.
Well, one day, Little Bookman decided to change it and not tell a soul.
What kind of fuckery is that? So, me and the other sane employee in this joint were like, what in the entire fuck is going on here.
Then a week later. YES a whole week later.
The little Bitchbaby says, oh the new password is ZYX, instead of XYZ.
I would give up eating all of my favorite Thanksgiving foods if I could have Friday and Saturday off so that I wouldn't have to look in his face.
I need a vacation!
I need a new job!
He should quit!
Yes, I'm thankful for the time I will be spending with my family, but I'm most Thankful for getting the hell away from Little Bookman.
Hate is a strong word, so let me say I can't stand this lying idiot.Here's the latest act of stupidity.
At Wonderland, we all have a computer that we have to use, it's password protected. But everyone who works here is supposed to have the password.
Well, one day, Little Bookman decided to change it and not tell a soul.
What kind of fuckery is that? So, me and the other sane employee in this joint were like, what in the entire fuck is going on here.
Then a week later. YES a whole week later.
The little Bitchbaby says, oh the new password is ZYX, instead of XYZ.
I need a vacation!
I need a new job!
He should quit!
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Take your sick ass home
I hate cold and flu season. Hate it.
Other than the chance of catching a cold or getting the flu, there is always that one coworker who will drag his buffalo butt ass into work when he is filled with germs and spread it around like it's a freaking pu-pu platter.
Yes, in case you're wondering, I'm talking about Little Bookman.
This is the second cold and flu season that I've spent in Wonderland. And once again, his lying-I got to go let my mother-in-law in the house and I ain't even married-ass is sitting up in here coughing, sneezing and snotting.
Go home!
Yes. This is when you take your ass home. Not when you fake a motorcycle accident, but when you are sick and putting other people at risk. And by other people, I mean me.
My immune system isn't what it used to be. I get a cold, oh it turns into the flu.
But here you are, with a legitimate excuse to use A SICK DAY and you're spreading your germs like you normally spread lies.
Cough one more time and I swear I might drown your ass in Lysol or Clorox.
Don't believe me? Ask my roommate from my freshman year of college what I can do with a gallon of bleach.
Other than the chance of catching a cold or getting the flu, there is always that one coworker who will drag his buffalo butt ass into work when he is filled with germs and spread it around like it's a freaking pu-pu platter.
Yes, in case you're wondering, I'm talking about Little Bookman.
This is the second cold and flu season that I've spent in Wonderland. And once again, his lying-I got to go let my mother-in-law in the house and I ain't even married-ass is sitting up in here coughing, sneezing and snotting.
Go home!
Yes. This is when you take your ass home. Not when you fake a motorcycle accident, but when you are sick and putting other people at risk. And by other people, I mean me.
My immune system isn't what it used to be. I get a cold, oh it turns into the flu.
But here you are, with a legitimate excuse to use A SICK DAY and you're spreading your germs like you normally spread lies.
Cough one more time and I swear I might drown your ass in Lysol or Clorox.
Don't believe me? Ask my roommate from my freshman year of college what I can do with a gallon of bleach.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Lady, I don't know you or your husband. . .
From the files of, you're bat shit crazy:
Phone rings at Wonderland.
I'm called over the intercom, call on line one.
Me: Thanks for holding, how may I help you.
Crazy Lady: How do you say your name.
Me: Pronounce my name.
CL: I've been trying to figure that out. You sent my husband a birthday card on my birthday. And I just wanted to let you know he is not a single man. He is not separated. I don't know what he's been telling you.
Me: Excuse me? I send my customers cards all the time.
CL: Well this was a very personal card.
Me: Ma'am, I we send birthday cards to customers.
CL: How did you get our information?
Me: Did you ever purchase an item from Wonderland?
CL: No.
Me: *Looking at the phone* Well, you came up in the database.
CL: He's not worth having and if you want to take him off my hands, that's fine.
Me: I don't know your husband and there is nothing going on there.
CL: So, your manager would approve of you sending this card.
Me: He sure would. *Thinking, bitch this card came from the Dollar Store and it was .50. How personal can it be?* What does the card say.
She reads it and in essence it says, Birthdays are days when the clouds roll away. Happy Birthday to a special person. It was actually kind of inspirational, which goes along with the alleged "Christian based" philosophy of Wonderland.
Me: OK. I've sent out plenty of those cards.
CL: I've called your cell phone and you wouldn't answer, so I decided to call you at work.
Me: OK. *Thinking, if I was fucking your husband, why would I send him my business card and why was I dumb enough to put my cell phone number on my cards? UGH!*
CL: Well, I'm going to keep checking into this.
Me: All righty then.
Spell checks my resume.
Phone rings at Wonderland.
I'm called over the intercom, call on line one.
Me: Thanks for holding, how may I help you.
Crazy Lady: How do you say your name.
Me: Pronounce my name.
CL: I've been trying to figure that out. You sent my husband a birthday card on my birthday. And I just wanted to let you know he is not a single man. He is not separated. I don't know what he's been telling you.
Me: Excuse me? I send my customers cards all the time.
CL: Well this was a very personal card.
Me: Ma'am, I we send birthday cards to customers.
CL: How did you get our information?
Me: Did you ever purchase an item from Wonderland?
CL: No.
Me: *Looking at the phone* Well, you came up in the database.
CL: He's not worth having and if you want to take him off my hands, that's fine.
Me: I don't know your husband and there is nothing going on there.
CL: So, your manager would approve of you sending this card.
Me: He sure would. *Thinking, bitch this card came from the Dollar Store and it was .50. How personal can it be?* What does the card say.
She reads it and in essence it says, Birthdays are days when the clouds roll away. Happy Birthday to a special person. It was actually kind of inspirational, which goes along with the alleged "Christian based" philosophy of Wonderland.
Me: OK. I've sent out plenty of those cards.
CL: I've called your cell phone and you wouldn't answer, so I decided to call you at work.
Me: OK. *Thinking, if I was fucking your husband, why would I send him my business card and why was I dumb enough to put my cell phone number on my cards? UGH!*
CL: Well, I'm going to keep checking into this.
Me: All righty then.
Spell checks my resume.
Words you wish you could use at work. . . In my case, say out loud.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Don't push me because I'm close to. . .aww damn!
Little Bookman actually took me there today. First of all, it's Saturday and I'd rather be any place else than here. I'd like to be hanging out with my college friends at Smith. I'd like to be wrapped up in front of the fireplace reading a book.
I'd like to be sitting on hot stones in Hawaii getting molested by a zombie sea creature than to be here, but I digress.
So, customer, who we will call Mr. Asshole, come in. Little Bookman instead of minding his business is all in mine.
My face is:
I'd like to be sitting on hot stones in Hawaii getting molested by a zombie sea creature than to be here, but I digress.
So, customer, who we will call Mr. Asshole, come in. Little Bookman instead of minding his business is all in mine.
My face is:
Because I know this lying little limping imp didn't just say: "Did she get you set up?'
1. Don't believe your Linkedin Profile, you are not a manager, not a senior consultant. Hell, you're only here because the manager CAN'T fire your ass.
2. You're the one who allowed product to get stolen.
3. You're a damned liar and your breath smells like the inside of a pig's ass.
So, don't question how I do my job. Don't come behind me like you're a manager.
This was not going to stand. Not today.
ME: Little Bookman, when I'm talking to a customer, I don't need you to come behind me.
LB: What are you talking about?
<Insert eye roll>
ME: WHEN I'M TALKING TO A CUSTOMER, I DON'T NEED YOU TO GO BEHIND ME. MIND YOUR BUSINESS.
LB: All I asked was if everything was all right.
ME: YOU ARE NOT A MANAGER. IT IS NOT YOUR BUSINESS
LB: Whatever, you don't know who you're talking to.
ME: A damned liar. STOP WITH THE LIES.
Drops the mike and walks away calling him every stupid motherfucker in the book in a loud whisper that I know he heard.
Basically, you, your mama and the horse you rode in on.
I don't have time for this!
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