» Bastard Colleagues

3CG and Triple D
Once upon a time I was a Senior Account Manager for the business division of a telecom company.

The job was stressful and it since we were working through a contractor, the pay was literally 1/4 of the industry standard for business account managers.

as if the stress and shite pay wasn't enough, I also had some of the worst coworkers. EVER.

Allow me to set the scene. Everyone else in that department got to sit out in the cubicle farm. I was put on a special project and moved to a room in the back. The room was about the size of a prison cell, and had 7 stations in along the walls. The room was crowded and the asshole who sat at the desk at the wall perpendicular to my desk was a grade A royal ASSHOLE. He was at least 6'2" and weighed 275. He would lean back in his chair so it would smash me into my desk. He listened to shit AM talk radio everyday. without headphones. It was crazy right-wing "Christian" programming, Like Bill O'Reily and Glenn Beck. Everyday, 8+ hours a day, we were all subjected to Dr. Laura and Glen Beck going on and on about how blacks and gays are going to hell. There were two black girls and I'm a lesbian. We complained SEVERAL times to management, but nothing ever came of it. We dubbed him 3CG- Crazy Conservative Christian Guy.

As if listening to twats talking utter bullshit all day wasn't bad enough, one day his wife served him divorce papers AND a restraining order... at work. We all got a good kick out of it- until we saw how utterly CRAZY this made the guy. The AM radio was gone, only to be replaced with him spending every hour on the phone with lawyers, judges, police, and his sister. He would say crazy things to us out of the blue. He told us several times that he wants his soon to be ex wife to die in some horrible way, then show the pictures of her dead body to their 3 year old daughter.

Again, complaints lodged with HR and management, only to be told we should be more sensitive since he's going through a hard time. Oh, and since he didn't do any actual work I had to pick up his accounts.

The final straw with 3CG? Striped socks. One day a girl wore striped socks and we were all taking the piss on her, giggling and whatnot. Next thing we know he slams down the phone and bellows "OH GREAT. NOW I'M NOT GOING TO SEE MY DAUGHTER BECAUSE THE JUDGE HEARD YOU GUYS LAUGHING IN THE BACKGROUND!!!". someone says "whoa easy, don't go postal on us"... to which he replies, in the flattest, creepiest tone I've ever heard emerge from a human "oh, I won't go postal. you'll die God's way. I'll just be there to take pictures of your bodies."

It was at that point we refused to go into that room with him and threatened to take legal action if management didn't do anything. Their solution to this problem? Move him to the cubicle row 3 feet from the entrance to our room.

And lastly I have Demented Dyke Director. Triple-D. As the name says, she was my director. My supervisor's supervisor's Supervisor. As a strange twist of fate, or punishment for possibly being Hitler in a past life, it just so happened she started dating my best friend after I started working there. Imagine the surprise you have when you and your best friend finally deduct she's sleeping with your boss. And your Boss finding out her taboo relationship is with one of her underling's best friend.

Needless to say I didn't blab about it, and everything was ok until the inevitable happened- they broke up. My director went apeshit on my friend and threatened to kill herself all the time and spit on her. Then she started busting my ass at work... and told my friend she was going to fire me if they didn't get back together.

The icing on the cake was last January when my grandpa died. I was gone from work for a week, as I had to go out of state for the funeral. When I got back home and turned on my phone it started going off with texts from my friend pissed off because my director told her I told everyone about their relationship. I asked how I could have done that when I hadn't even been at work for week, but she never replied.

In fact, my friend (i use the term loosely) only recently started talking to me again, almost a year later.

Thankfully I found a job that paid 3 times more, with a FRACTION of the responsibility.

My only hope is one day 3CG snaps and mows down the entire place.



AK47 in one hand, Polaroid in the other.
(Sun 27th Jan 2008, 9:48, More)

» How nerdy are you?

It's all geek to me.
I was really excited to share that when I clean up around my house, desk, car, etc... I always think "delete" when I pick up an item that needs to go in the bin.

I was also going to mention I can do the amazing feat of translating IP addresses into binary... but only b/c at one point in my awesome telecom career I needed that skill.

I guess I should feel happy I'm not that big of a nerd... but for some reason I'm left cold, inadequate, and shamed.

My only redemption is I wrote a program that will show your IP address in binary when you click "I Like This".
(Sun 9th Mar 2008, 1:30, More)

» Guilty Pleasures, part 2

Clink!
About a year ago I made the great transatlantic flight to London and found myself standing in front of the Clink Museum. I paid a few pounds and silently cursed as I multiplied the amount by two to keep tabs of my measly American dollars.

I walked through the exhibits, posed for pictures on a few torture devices, and read all about boiling bodies.

At the end of the museum they had a chopping block with a sample of an executioner’s handbook, complete with a formula to figure out how hard an axe would have to fall to behead someone. I calculated in my height, body type, and neck size and found out how much weight would have to be exhorted to successfully decapitate me.

That’s right, I found my guillotine pressure!

Length? It was all in metric. I haven’t the faintest.
(Tue 18th Mar 2008, 1:04, More)

» Pet Peeves

ARRRRRG
White Trash (chavs/pikeys to you guys) on welfare (dole). I cannot stand to see some lazy twunt use their food stamp card to buy slushies and gummy worms for themselves, and their other GROWN friends, when a) that money is MINE and b) it's supposed to be used for staple food for their kids that they need but supposedly can't afford. THEN the real kick in the face is when they pull out a wad of cash and buy beer, lotto tickets, cigs, and blunt wraps. Not that I have anything against those things in general, but if they are supposedly so poor they have to seek assistance from the hard working taxpayers, then how in the world do they have money for things they don't need?

I say in order to get government assistance they should have to pass drug tests and work government jobs, like city maintenance, simple data entry, etc. If I have to pass a drug test and work a job I hate for my checks, they should too. Otherwise, I fully support sending them to gas chambers.

Also, I absolutely cannot stand it when someone calls me on the phone, then talks to the people who they are physically around... So I'm stuck on the other end listening to them talk to someone else. It annoys to no end.
(Sun 4th May 2008, 5:05, More)

» Cringe!

I knew that would come back to bite me...
I just started dating this new girl, she's fabulous and beautiful and quite naughty in all the nice ways- however she doesn't want me to ever use a strap-on on her. I'm a lesbian, by the way.

Anyway, she had lost her Blackberry in the parking lot outside a bar the other night, details are still a little foggy. When she called to get it replaced on her insurance plan she found out for a few dollars more than a replacement Blackberry she could get one of those new-fangled Google phones. As luck would have it, they're on back order. Since I work all hours of the night, I left my laptop at her apartment so we can chat online while I'm at work.

Earlier today I just realized there a notepad document with some raunchy erotica about a lesbian, usually high on lots of illicit substances, with a huge 10 inch strap-on thrusting it into any female with a pulse.

Penned by yours truly. And there's no way to deny I'm the author since it has my email address in it. The same email I use to chat with.

The laptop has been at hers for almost a week now. She either hasn't found it or hasn't mentioned she's found it. Granted it's not on the desktop, but it's not hidden... it's in the default windows documents folder.

*cringe*
(Thu 4th Dec 2008, 1:38, More)