Its like a bad habit that wont go away.If this is Octobor it must be...
Page 1 of 4 of update 1 of 2
Right now I am sittin on the windowsill of the big long glass coriddor on the third floor of Building Two that overlooks the parkin lot of my stupid job right down the hall from the conferrence room where they just had a big meeting where in front of a whole lot of people I just got my ass chewed out.
I am fightin back tears. People are walkin by whisperin to themselves, but i am not turnin around to look at them. I do not want them to see me this way. But even still i am positionning myself so they cannott miss my reflection in the glass as they pass and get a glimps of how upsett I am. So they can feel sorrey for me.
It is extremly hot out. My face is about two inches from the glass but even still i can feel the heat from outside radiating toword me. Cool air is suposed to be comin out of the vents I am sittin on, but its not cool, but hot. Ten months a year they try to air conditin this thing, but it always feels like a glass hothouse anyway, a big emptey corriddor you can drive a semi through while meanwhile our workspaces are cramped, two peoplle to a cube. What a waste of office space. No wondor this danm place hasnt made money yet.
The parkin lot I am looking ovor with my face to the glass and the back of my head facing people who are walking by who I hope are feeling sorry for me is a whole sea of white, red and black. Thats all they have arround here. White mini vans, black Acuras and small red pickup trucks which is what all peoplle who are not from Texas drive when they get jobs here. Which is allot of people. Includin me, ecxept my car is a green 70 Dodge Dart Swinger which isnt even my car, it bellongs to Granfather. I tell you I'd be willing to settol for a danm piss yellow Saturn if it were mine to own. Also it has this stink in it of crap, dog crap that wont go away cause somtimes Granfather gets drunk and has this overpoworing need to go out in the middol of the night and shoot road signs, stop signs, yellow curve signs, you name it, and you cant shoot roadsigns unless you have a couple of dogs in there with you. And the dog is so nervuos from Granfather screammin and the sound of the shotgun goin off that they get scaired and crap allover the car. I am the one who has to drive him too, and put up at his hollerin and screamin at me (and the dogs) cause your not alowed to drive drunk where we live. (Your not alowed to shoot signs neither, but, well, whatever), and in any case have you ever had somthin happen to you worse than drivin off two hours away to a job interveiw the night aftor you had to take Granfather and his dogs out to shoot signs and just when you walk in there with your resume in your hand you reallize that last nihgt in the dark when you were cleannin the danm car out from the mess the dogs made you didnt get it all and not only that its allover your only good pair of pants. Well in any case I have.
And if your ever drivin along an happan to see a sign by the side of the road that somone shot at you know the old basterd did it.
Speaking of Granfather he is realy more diffocult than ever to get along with. It realy is quite demorrolizing. He just recentley had a problem with with his intestines that efected him for many months. I wrote about this in my last update. Part of what hapenned caused him to be flat on his back. As a result, all kind of boils and sores developped on his back and ass. Its realy disgousting. Me and him had a giant fight concerning my takin him to the doctor.
Also I have another problem in my life. The county clerk (who is Granfathers sworned enemy) has presented me with a bill for destroying a county vehcicle. Howevor I tell you I am innocint.
Parden me, let me corect myself, othor than hire cronies and freinds from other failed ventures, we dont have a company purpoce. Also the danm IPO is coming up, and we are all undor pressure to come up with a "compeny purpose" cause all the internet magazins say you have to have one if you want to have a freakin IPO.
OK, so here is how i got my ass chewed out. Do you remmember in my last update I wrote about this creepey Prince Charles-looking consultent who worked there? Well it turns out that his uncle is one of the main investers. Nobody is suposed to talk about that fact that he is the invester's nepheuw, but everyone knows it anyway. We nevor saw the invester in the past, and he only started showin up in our office.
In fact, the invester also looks like one of the royals, Princess Margaret actualy. Exactley like her. He is truly the male version of princess Margeret.
The funniest thing is when the two of them have these awkword convorsations with each othor in front of people that sound like scripted attempts to make them seem like they are NOT relatives. Anyway the guy and his lacky nephew are both Royal pain in the ass jerks.
I got in troubel because someone in the meeting, (another ignoramus, who her title hapens to be "Asociate VP Of Technology"), sugested that we drop the "dot com" part of our URL becuase, "all our competitors use 'dot com.'
"I don't like dot-com," she said. "Why cant we be 'dot-fun'?"
I looked around the room and no one had (pardon my french here,) the balls to say anything.
Finaly, my boss, the little toadfaced woman (who actualy knows better, that you CANNOT change the "dot com"), said, "I think that's a great idea!"
And then her boss, (my boss's boss, who also hapens to know ALLOT about technology), who is the evil skinney guy with the pointey face who dresses all in black who looks like the little cartoon helper guy in the "...For Dummies(R)" book serries, says, "How about dot-great?"
And then his boss, (who we all call The Lady Who Screams at everyone), says, "how bout dot smart" and finally the invester, says, "How bout dot VALUE!
And evereyone, (our company has ALLOT of ass kissers), all say, "Thats a great idea!"
And then his nehpew, creepy old Prince Charles points to ME.
"He will do it," he said.
And then the invester looks me right in the eye and says infront of everyone, "I dont know who you are, but I want our entire website changed from 'dot com' to 'dot value' in 48 hours."
My voice was very weak and my heart was beatin like crazy and you coud hardly hear me.
But the invester started screamin at me, "WHO is THEY?"
Then I said i did not KNOW who "they" is but alls I DO know is that your not alowed to have a website that ends in "dot value." They will let you have dot com and dot net and even 'dot-org' but not dot value. I do not know how I know this but I know it is true. Like, i think it was in PC World. Like, mabye 2 years ago.
Then the Invester started hollerin at me and said that I was just on a free ride on HIS MONEY and just did not WANT to do the work involved. And he also said that "org" sounded like "orgasm" and that he sort of knew who I was, I was the kid from California with the website with the crazey grandfather and all the toilat humor, and that he did NOT APRECIATE MY HUMOR, and I'd better change the effin' suffix of his effin' website domain from to "dot com" to "dot effin' value" or else Id be out of there on my effin ass. Also I wasnt suposed to talk about orgasms no more.
Alls I coud do was put my head down and get hollered at by both him and Prince Charles.
Later on after the meeting while I was sittin there on the windowsill of the glass coriddor I felt a finger tap my shouldor. It was my boss, the anoying little toadfaced woman, and she said that Id better get back to my desk cause a big e-mail was going out to the whole company. The e-mail woud anounce a big compeny-wide meeting that the WHOLE STAFF woud have to atend.