| By Quidam on Thursday, July 23, 1998 - 01:28 am: |
Blah. 10 New Directive: Tasteful grey carpet, tasteful grey matching cubical panels. Low key tasteful indirect lighting. Tasteful company issued black pencil cups and bins. Climate controlled air scently lightly with bland tasteful music. Blah. 20 New Directive: Clickety-clak go the fingers all day long. Throb throb go the wrists all night long. Burnt Burnt goes the mind everytime in between. Blah. 30 Goto 10. Run. So I quit. And no I have no money and I smell and I can't seem to get my ass out of bed to do much of anythign. Putting together resume: Professional Goal: To yell "shut the fuck up!" at high decibles from the top of large buildings repeatedly. "Hmm. I don't think we can provide you with a career in that area" "why not? Crazy people get to do it all the time? I'm not crazy so I would think I would be more than suitable for such a position. I even bought this bullhorn thingy from Radioshack." "well, would you be able to trouble shoot our LAN? Set up our firewall? Design our corporate website, even though we have no idea how to market our services in that medium?" "Can't I just go up to the roof and yell at people?" But in the end, I got them back. A minor instance of workplace vandalism. It was kind of exhilarating in a way too. I've never done anything like that before. I hid a half eaten sandwhich in between the panels of my cubical. I don't even know why I did it. I just did. Shut the fuck up. |
| By Starchy on Thursday, July 23, 1998 - 10:37 am: |
*twitch* |
|
|
|