Some guys can't take a compliment!

Our office has been really backed up on new invoices lately, so they gave me the opportunity to hire a temp. After sending us a couple of losers, the agency finally sent me someone I thought I could work with. He's a nice young married man, 22 years old, and in fantastic shape. Yes, I'm engaged right now, but that don't mean that I can't look. I ain't dead yet, folks!

He's a shy kid, so I've tried to make him feel comfortable by just being myself. I figured a few dirty jokes would break him out of his shyness. Then I tried boosting his confidence a bit more by patting him on the back or caressing his neck when he does a good job. I even told him that I thought he had a cute butt! Yet after all this he's just as shy as ever!

Then I thought I could get him out of his box by teasing him a little. I asked him about what kinds of things he liked to do to his wife. He told me that his wife was pregnant, and I offered a fun response about how pregnancy could have been avoided. I also left a silly photoshop on his desk of he and I having dirty sex, but he just threw it away without even saying anything!

Well I don't know what it is about him, but the more he avoids me, the more I think I like him! I've even resorted to some straight forward flirting! Yesterday, when he came into the lounge for his morning break, I was already in there, stirring his yogurt cup with my finger. Just as he realized what I was doing I pulled my finger out, put it in my mouth, and sucked the yogurt off. I've never seen a man blush so red!

Apparently that was it for him. He went to my director and told her that he didn't appreciate my behavior. The director and I have actually made friends over the last few months, so she wasn't hearing it. She told him she'd talk to me, and to go back to his desk. Then she called me in and told me to fire him if he's a problem. Since he's a temp it's no problem sending him away. Maybe I'll be generous and offer him an opportunity to save his job.

_

Super secret Santa!

I've been settling in nicely at my new job. I'm getting to know everyone, and while we've all been getting along well enough, I've noticed how clueless some of them seem to be about their shortcomings. That's why I decided to play Santa this year, and give everyone a little something special!

I was somehow able to pick out most of their gifts while browsing through Big Lots, which was nice, because these gifts were about thought rather than price. I started by grabbing a package of control top pantyhose for Susan, our secretary, because she has a gut that just won't quit. Then I bought a box of Biore pore strips for the HR lady, Helen, who has a mess of really thick blackheads all over her T-zone.

I picked up a bottle of Febreze for Amy, our accounts receivable girl, because she always smells like a trailer home full of unwashed Mastiffs. And I went with a large pack of generic Dexatrim for Trisha, the accounts manager, because it would be nice if she finally got thin so she could get past her obvious eating disorder once and for all!

Tooth whitener was the obvious choice for Darryl, the only male in our office (and the only one of us with a mouth full of rotting teeth!). Then there's Bonnie, one of my file clerks. She's always getting called into the school because of her shitty little troublemaker son, so I got her The Complete Idiot's Guide to Raising Boys.

My other file clerk, Leah, always has her frizzy hair balled up like a rat's nest, so I got her a bottle of leave-in conditioner. I had a hard time thinking of something nice for Simone, who handles our outgoing mail. I decided on a pack of moist toilet wipes, because she always leaves the bathroom smelling like diarrhea.

It was important to me to make this a surprise! So yesterday, when nobody was working, I came in and left gift bags on everybody's desk. I even left a bag with a new hairbrush in it on my own desk so nobody would think it was me who left all those presents! Unfortunately I took this week off, so I wasn't able to see the look on everyone's faces when they open their gifts!

How I got my first job!

It's fun to think back to those awkward days when I was just a brace-faced teenager. We all remember the excitement of getting our first job, and the thrilling prospects of making our own money. Unfortunately, I didn't get the first job I applied for. But going after it gave me my very first opportunity to stand up to tyranny!

I was intially full of confidence, because three of the other girls from my high school bowling team had already been hired at this one bar & grill. The owner, who resembled John Leguizamo's character from the movie Spawn, was notorious for only hiring cute teenage girls for the waitress positions. So I put on my demure little prairie girl dress and skipped on in there to see if I could seduce him out of a part-time position!

I walked in, found the man, and didn't get two sentences into my spiel before he took me aside and explained that I wasn't even fit to charm the customers who showed up on "all-you-can-eat pickled egg night". He also said that my wolfy looking legs didn't help, and neither did the dark red hair above my lip. As he escorted me to the front door, he told me to maybe come back in a couple years when I'd, "stopped dressing like an Amish retard".

So my first teenage job was to send this motherfucker's life crashing down all around him! Over the course of the next month I called his wife anonymously, every three days, to coyly insinuate that there was something about her husband that she didn't know. His pale, chubby daughter happened to be a freshman at my high school, so I spread a rumor about her having Hepatitis C. The nickname "Hepatitis Girl" managed to follow her all the way through community college!

The final phase of my retribution was a master stroke! That Boss "Hogg" bastard drove an immaculate white Cadillac, with pristine all-white leather interior. One night I took the metal bucket full of cigarette butts and chewing tobacco spit that the kitchen staff kept by the back door of the restaurant, and I set it up in the back seat of his car. As he drove himself home that night the bucket rocked back and forth, until it eventually tipped over and dumped it's payload all over the seats!

Finally, towards the middle of the summer, I secured my first paying job. My uncle managed the service garage for one of the major dealerships in town, and he hired me on. It was a sweet job, flirting with the greasy mechanics, and accepting payments from customers for the Service and Parts department. It was also hilarious, because we would rip the customers off big time! Some customers would bitch, some would cry, and some would just quietly pay while secretly fighing back a world of rage! I can't say that I blamed them. $70 to glue a rear view mirror back on is some bullshit!

Revenge of the working class!

The word has come down that the company I work for has been bought out, and my branch will most likely be shut down before too long. It's a bit of a coincidence, as I've been applying all over town for a new job these last couple months, and I happen to be sitting on a fresh offer for a higher paying position at a new company just down the road. Even though this is all working out for me, and I could just change jobs and move on quietly, I still feel like I've got a reason to be angry!

When the director of our branch heard about the buyout she just quit outright. That was before the rest of us even found out about it. So considering that I'm the office manager, and that I'm sitting on this new job offer, I figured I'd follow her lead, walk out, and leave my own mark to show the new owners my displeasure. The new company is sending their H.R. person in next week, and I wanted to make certain that she hears about my actions from my coworkers!

Everyone in the office was so worked up about the buyout that they all went out for lunch together to talk about it. I stayed behind. This was my chance to carry out my carefully planned exit. I figured that the most critical move was to walk out without telling anyone how to do those few important things that only I know how to do. Anything else I might do would be gravy!

So the I dug around in an empty desk and found an old system login password from a girl who I recently fired, and used it to log on to our system and deliberately screw up some of our customers' accounts (the only thing that the new owners really care about). Also, I used her corporate email account to send a vicious "up yours!" message to the company-wide email group.

I grabbed a trash bag from the supply closet and started trashing vital items from all around the office. First the 3-hole punch, then all the files in the "N-R" cabinet of our client folders. I also tossed the last two cans of sugar from the coffee station, and the ink cartridges from out of the printers and Xerox machine.

Then I ran out to the car, stashed the garbage bag, and grabbed my duffel bag of secret weapons, including two rats from my son's pet rat cage. I taped them up inside of a paper towel tube and stuffed the tube into the back of the coat closet. Based on my experience, those rats should have eaten their way out of the tube by the evening. Once freed they will undoubtedly make a nest and breed.

I went back to the break room, where I shoved a couple of bagels into our double toaster and pushed the lever down. When that old toaster is stuffed with bagels the little toast ejector thing is unable to pop up, so it doesn't stop toasting until they're completely burned to shit. Then I made my way over to that bitch Sarah's desk. I opened up the base of her computer mouse and stuffed the insides with a hearty fingerful of wet cat food.

Just before leaving for good I completed one final act of defiance by enjoying my last paid defecation in the building's bathroom. Thanks to last night's drinking I worked up a particularly nasty dump, and deliberately refrained from flushing it down. Then, just before exiting the building, I used my office manager key to enter the janitor's closet, surveyed the plumbing valves, and shut off the water flow to the restrooms. Then I locked the closet door behind me so that nobody would be able to flush anything until the janitor was called in to check it out.

Takin' a pot shot!

I'd like to start today's post with a big fat "Thanks for nothing!" to all you jerks for not doing a write-in for Hillary yesterday like we agreed! Now we're stuck with this Obama character. Yeah, maybe his inspiring words remind people all over the world about all the great things that America stands for. But so what? What do I get out of that?

I'm sorry, but I have very little confidence that his plans for redistributing wealth are going to work out as well as the Republicans have promised. And tax breaks only benefit those who actually pay their taxes. So forgive me if I reserve my celebrating for when I receive my first big fat socialist money redistribution check!

Aside from standing in the rain for an hour and a half just to throw my vote away, something else happened yesterday which forced me to take a stand for my rights in a more direct way. Y'all know I don't ask for much, but I do demand a little peace and quiet while I use the toilet. This is my "me" time, where I meditate, and get away from the stupid slags in my office.

There are only two stalls in the restroom I use, which is down in the building's main hallway. There's the handicapped accessible stall (that's the one I like), and there's the one regular stall next to it. In order to maintain my privacy, I usually pull the door shut on the regular stall before going into the other, so it looks like they're both occupied.

Usually this setup works beautifully. But yesterday some bitch came in there in a hurry while I was wiping (and playing Solitaire on my iPod). She checked both stall doors, pulled the second door free, and made her way inside and onto the seat. Not only was I aggravated by having my privacy disturbed, but this person didn't even give me time to get up out of there before letting loose with what sounded like a broken garbage bag full of Brunswick stew.

I decided that this ho had to be made an example of. So I put my iPod into my purse, pulled my pants up, and prepared a little surprise. I wadded up a giant ball of toilet paper and sanitary seat covers, dipped it all the way into the toilet, and tossed it over the wall of the stall. As she screamed with surprise, I leaped out of my stall, flipped off the light, and ran down the hall back to my company's office. I must say, it felt damn good to stand up for myself!

Customer service secrets!

I gave y'all some helpful hints in a previous post about how we, as consumers, can take a stand and demand what's ours. Now I'm going to show all you customer service folks out there how you can take control of most situations, and have fun doing it! I'm an office manager now, but I've held many service level jobs over the course of my career.

I'll start out in the world of call centers. There's few things more awful than having to answer phones in a customer service department. You never know if your next call will be a simple transfer, or twenty minutes of ranting from some raging whore, who is complaining because she's had to call back 15 times to get one simple thing done. And nearly every caller is aggravated because they've been sent through a labyrinth-style phone menu, followed by torturous musical hold.

First of all, you need to figure out what your needs are. In most cases it's call volume, and call times. So it's always in your best interest to keep calls as short as possible. Answer the phone by racing through the greeting, especially the part where you say your name. If they get mad later on in the call and say, "What's your name?!" you can simply reply, "Oh, you didn't catch that, did you bitch?" and hang up right in their face.

If a caller's problem sounds too complicated, offer to transfer them to the "appropriate department". Then just transfer them back to your own department (if the odds are good that you won't get them again), or to any random number that suits your fancy. I used to like to send people to billing, after yelling, "Sir, you need to pay your bill!", even if their account was current. By the time they made their way back to our group I'd have clocked out for lunch!

Now lets turn it over to you sad bastards working in face-to-face customer service. You have definitely got it the worst. You've gotta take it from their ugly faces without showing even a hint of attitude. Smile, kill them with kindness to the point that they feel guilty and end up apologizing. Then, when they're gone, copy down their credit card info and send it in reply to every foreign Email scheme that comes into your spam folder.

I used to work at the bill pay and equipment counter for a cable TV company. Folks would come in there causing a ruckus for one reason or another. The really nasty ones would return their equipment in a huff, yell out their account info, and walk out without a receipt. To reward their rudeness, I'd fail to enter the return in the system, and scratch the serial number off their equipment. I hope they enjoyed the $500 equipment fee on their last bill!

I'd speak to the world of food service, but you folks already know what to do. The important thing is that the customer never find out what disgusting things you did to their food. And when you circle the total for a large party's bill, make sure your pen goes through the included tip amount, so they don't realize that it was included, and end up tipping you on the total amount! Even if you don't have time to exact revenge on a specific client, you always have the satisfaction of knowing that the ice y'all put in every customer's drink is probably teeming with parasites!

A worthy adversary!

Not that I give a crap, but that ho at work is steppin' on my nuts again, so to speak. It's a shame, too, 'cause Friday started out as anyone would have hoped. It's a "casual day" at our office, so I wore my new gold J-Lo style jogging suit, which looks damn good on my big sweet behind! I amplify the effect by wearing a cute little black mini-backpack!

So I'm driving to work, eating my microwave pancake-wrapped sausage-on-a-stick, and baby, I'm cruisin'! I'm making damn good time. I realize that I'm in the wrong lane, so I cut over in front of some sucker just as the light is changing up ahead. I slam on my breaks out of habit, then speed up to make the yellow light. The car behind me got a red but kept on following. Our parking lot entrance is directly after that light, and sure enough, they follow me in, so I know it's one of my co-workers!

At first I was afraid that I had pissed off the wrong person. The I realized that it was Sarah, our be-otch of a secretary! I thought, "Good!", 'cause I'm all about stickin' it to that little trick! You might remember her from our spat about the fish sticks. Well, I wish I could say that the animosity ended with that confrontation, but it surely did not!

I think it all started when she was first placed by the temp agency. I would dump all my filing and other shit on her because she was too new to know better. Also, I would ignore my cell phone, and the men I was seeing would ask to be transferred from the main line, which she had to answer. She bitched to the boss about having to transfer my calls all the time, and that's what set it off!

There were a number of ways that I got back at her. Once I smeared anti-bacterial gel all around her desk near the mouse where she rests her arm. Another time I brewed coffee from used grounds because I knew that she was the only one who drank coffee in the afternoon. And one time I ate her Asian sesame chicken wrap out of the fridge 'cause I was stoned and needed a snack.

She figured out that I was the source of all that crap, and her retaliation was ruthless. One day, when I was out of the office, she falsely reported a problem with my computer to the new IT guy who happens to be dealing with a bout of ringworm. He had to call the IT help desk while testing the computer, and ended up tainting my phone's headset with his ringworm, which later infected my face. That's when I realized that this particular nemesis was craftier than I was giving her credit for!

From there the tension really started to escalate. I left a chunk of catfish take-out leftovers in her car on a hot day. Then she complained to the boss about how I yell on the phone at Kevin so loud that she can't hear to answer the main phone line when customers call. So then I started clipping my toe nails on her seat cushion after hours so they stick in her bare thighs when she sits down (because she wears those skanky short skirts!). Also, I left one of these plastic crunk cups on her desk for her to find whe she came in one day:



I don't know who's wronging who at this point. But she knows that thanks to Activia, I'm regular to the point that you can set your watch to my 10:45 bowel movement. So I'm certain that she was the one who stopped up the handicapped toilet this morning before I got in there, to get back at me for cutting her off at the red light! I'm not totally sure, but I'm pretty damn sure!

Mind your own business!

I can't believe what this bitch just said to me!

Our office is small, so our breakroom is nothing but a coffee machine and a microwave next to a sink, set towards the side of the main office space. We don't even have a fridgerator. The downside is that everyone has to smell popcorn or whatever else other people cook.

So I took my lunch break early today, around 11, and I'm over at the microwave heating up some fish sticks. They take a while because they were still a little frozen in the middle, and I like them crispy. Well the fans in the microwave blow the smell all over the office in no time.

Our front desk secretary Sarah came up to me and asked me if there was something less smelly I could make for lunch. She acted like she was joking, but I don't appreciate that shit. I told that bitch that it ain't my problem that we don't have a seperate breakroom! Then I told her about how everyone knows that she eats tuna mixed with plain yogurt every day. It gives her gas and she ends up farting in the copy room or behind the filing cabinets. That's damn sure worse than my weekly fish sticks!

I think she's probably still mad because of last week. I had given her some money to pay for my Chinese food delivery while I was in a meeting. The driver gave her hell because I had only given her enough money for the sesame chicken and crab rangoons, and he wanted a tip. She even had the nerve to knock on the meeting room door to ask me for tip money. I told her that I'm sorry, but that's all the money I got! Damn!