Welcome to my private HTM-Hell
Page 7 of 26
The power is doled out, not so much in proportion to the coresponding layers of the org charts, but concentrated amongst various people on all levels. Each of whom have their individual respective heads lovingly ensconced up at least one of sevoral key asses.
Two of the main asses are Mr. Peckushay, and the Lady Who Screams at Everyone. Both of them scream and holler allot and direct the "F" word at you, like, a hundred times a day. All of thier friends they have hired -- even if it is on a low level -- is allowed to holler and scream and tell people to go eff themselves. I have seen a low-levol artist, like 22 years old, tell a 50 year old Vice President to KISS MY ASS in front of a whole lot of people. They are alowed to do it.
Do you remember the Flying Monkeys in the Wizard of Oz? Surely the Tin Man coud at any time whack one of their heads off with his ax, but he never does. Why? He is not alowed to because the danm monkey works for the Wicked Witch.
This guy Peaches is a buttkisser to be sure, but when there are no bussable glutemi available, he is an anoying disruptive jerk. He likes to boss people around.
There is a mean, fat Russian programmer on the team, this guy named Igor. He is suposedly a "crack Java programmer." Alls I know in that regard is the crack of his ass is always showing.
The minimum amount of people a Team can have is four. The other member on the team besides me is Petra, and she is the person I told you about before, this creepy 22-year old artist who pushes people around who are much higher than her. She has her job because she is somebody's freind's nextdoor neighbor's kid.
The way the meeting started, the Hercules Team discussed a breach of security on the networks. Sombody hacked us over the weekend and they were blaming ME.
After this, we selected the best Cyberblop Haikus for the online newsletter. Here are two of the latest, corny, awfull ones that won:
convergence is here
b-to-b and b-to-c
cyberblop dot com
Who is the leader
now in the year two thousand?
cyberblop dot com
I shoud of given you my standard warning about getting sick. What was even worse was the danm perfectly honest comments Peaches made, while nodding and bobbing his plastic molded Pez dispensor blond head after we made the finol selection. He is one of these very young guys who wants people to think he is "The boy wonder" for having sutch an important job at a young age. Meanwhile he is just an ass kissing freind of one of the bosses.
"Man alive, Hercules Team," Peaches said with a straight face, "These are two bumping-good, honkin'-ass Haikus."
Next, after this, with Peaches in charge, a guy who in anothor place and time woud of been a danm Hitler youth, our next assignment was that we all tried to come up with a "corporate positioning statement" for the Hercules team.
I said to them, "We are only a four person team. We dont need a positioning statement."
Peaches realy ripped into me, calling me a "jerk" and said that our team will "stand out in front" from the othor teams by having a positioning statement. Then Igor ripped in to me, and said that if I was in Russia, someone at work would of shot me in the kneecaps years ago.
Can you imagine this? They pay me for ONLY TECH SUPPORT which is the lowest levol in this whole place. Meanwhile I manage the networks and develop content. But they will NOT name me an "Assistant Content Developer" -- And give me the danm 15% raise of how much people in that job get paid more than me.
Just as the meeting was breaking up, I get paged over the loudspeakor. I called the reception desk and they said I had a visitor. I went down there. It was the Psycho Biker chick.
I told her I did NOT take no vitamins and besides, it was a few weeks since I was even in her danm house. Anyway, she hollers at me in front of the receptionist. Also she said that me and her had an upcoming date, and I was suposed to bring extra money with me to reimburse her for her danm vitamins. Also she said if I so much as had a fleeting thoght of somehow breaking our date, she woud snap my neck like a bread stick.
"Just remember. You belong to ME," she said to me. I was sort of startoled to hear her say that. I asked, "What does THAT mean?" And then she sort of poked me hard with her finger and said, "Just what it means: You belong to ME."
I was a liitle scared. I said, "Okay, suposing that I DO. Then YOU belong to ME, and I am telling you: Don't bother me at work."
Then her face simmered into an angry sneer. Do you ever watch "Ally McBeal"? Do you know how that woman Ling gets all pissed and steamed? That was the face she made. I was so scared. I did not even say goodbye. I just ran away from her like a frightened rabbitt.
Blankenship just arived a few hours ago from Guatamala with the other scientists, and they were right now in our trailer pefforming their preliminary overview of the old basterd.
In the backround I coud hear Granfather screamin at Madison, one of the other doctors, and he was scramin back at Granfather. Both were cursing, while Ripke, the third scientists coud also be heard in the backround loudly weeping in fear.
"We haffa identified the pulsating growth onna on the subject's scalp," Blankenship said to me in his severe Scottish broague.
"Tis a-nothin' to worry over. 'Tis called the Brazilian Stinkhorn fungus, a common..."
I cut him off by saying, "Doctor, I realy dont care what is growin on Granfather's head, or for that matter his ass too. I only care if his brothers arrived yet."
Blankenship said, "Aye, and they be a-rummaging in the back sheds a-looking for treasure.
"But I canna be concerned: 'Tis already a mysterrious biological treasure here in this trailer!"
...and whenever Blankenship says 'mysterious' it comes out:
"Mis-TEER --ee-ous." I canna stand it. I a-want to a-smack him.
I hollared at Blankenship that Granfather's brothers are NOT ALLOWED in the back sheds. Stupid danm criptozoologist. I was so pissed. I slammed the phone down. I was practicolly in tears. By the time I went to lunch I was realy frazzoled. I have problems with Granfather, at work, and also with a womon who is stalking me.
By the way the Flying Monkey won a $1,000 Bright Ideas on the Workplace Award. I know this cause I saw it on the network.
Ive wrote allot about Tilde and her anoying ways. Thankfuly, Tilde is less of a pain in the ass when Stu is around. Stu is a stabilizing influence. He is a true marketing expert. Despite his piggish appearence, he is kind to othors. He makes everyone around him feel at ease, even when he is full of crap. Which is often, since he is in charge of Internet Marketing.
Me, Stu and Tilde met on the cafeteria line and they both coud tell that something has been bugging me. All three of us looked up from our trays at the same time and saw behind the counter...the sweaty flushed beaming flat face...of Cathyann.
"Howdy y'all! I done TOLD y'all I was gettin a job here! Bwah-HAH-HAH!!" , she loudly laughed and barked like a bleating elephant seal bellowing in pain from just hittin his danm head on a boat propellor or somthing. I coud not beleive it.
"They done posted the job in the Thrifty Nickel, three counties over," she said breathlessly, gasping and heaving out of excitement, as giant walnut sized sweat beads rolled down her giant flat pink face.
"Momma gits her hair done out thar, and picked up a copy. You orta see her new beehive doo. A real Texas-ceiling-fan-clearance-hazard, if you ask me. BWAAHA-HAHAHA! -- anyway, guess what? They done hired us both!"
I then noticed Cathyann's almost toothless grinning and newly torpedo-headed mother by the cash registor. Both of them were wearin these white ladies' prison-looking nurse uniforms with those netted paper hats. Cathyann's hat was all wet where it was soaked and plastered to her big plump forehead. I supose one test that can decide if you realy indeed need to lose weight would be, if you can "pinch an inch" on your forehead. Cathyann is somone who can. She continued to yammer on with more details a mile a minute.
"Now, I ain't allowed to work the register -- golldang, dagnab felony convictions from way the hell back in '93, kin you BLEEVE it? -- So I'm stuck here on the slop line fer now..."
Then she raised her voice and bellowed, "Howja like THAT, Walt? I'm yer golldang lunch lady!", and just then leaned her sweaty, meaty paw over the top of the low glass partition and playfully smacked me. It felt like a drunken bear atacked me.
As she swung her hefty treetrunk of an arm, the baggy plastic glove she was wearring flew off and up in the air. It landed in my chili omelet. It apeared to be smeared with lipstick, sweat, spit, and makeup.
We went to our table and Stu and Tilde seemed to be thrilled about Cathyann gettin a job there. I felt happy for her of course. But somhow I was annoyed. It was just selfishness on my part I supose.
"I'll come and join y'all after I feed all these cyber geeks! Bwah-HAHAHAHA!," Cathyann hollored at us across the cafeteria.