Thrilling Tard Tales
At least I don't work with the public, at least I don't work with the public, at least I don't work with the public...
This has become my mantra here at work. I got paid yesterday. Already blew it on a tank of gas and a Snicker Bar. I was hoping to have enough for gum. Oh well. I'm trying to remember the last time I was hoping to have enough for gum but that had to be over thirty years ago.
Honestly, I don't care about the money that much. Of much greater importance, is who dies first: My supervisor or me? I don't want to kill her and I really don't want to die. But the way things are going this weekend, one of us is going through the window.
Just a couple minutes ago she shouts out, "We gotta drop the phone, guy!" She calls me "guy" a lot.
She works in the main room of the office and I work in one of the smaller offices off to the side of the main room. We're not very far apart but there is a wall between us and I usually have earphones on since I'm transcribing some terribly important police business (pot bust, usually). So when she shouts something out, I have to stop what I'm doing and pull one of my earphones out and shout back, "I'm sorry?" Which is exactly what I just did.
And she repeats herself, "We gotta drop the phone!"
"Okay," I reply, "What does that mean?"
...
No fucking answer. But at least I've been brought up to speed with this crucial phone update. I swear to god, I'm going to start bringing a soda can filled with $2.15 in nickels to work with me and every time she shouts some random useless shit about the goddamn hitch in her fucking giddy-up I'm going to rattle that can right in her ear.
And, if that doesn't stop her, I'm going to throw one of us through the window.
This has become my mantra here at work. I got paid yesterday. Already blew it on a tank of gas and a Snicker Bar. I was hoping to have enough for gum. Oh well. I'm trying to remember the last time I was hoping to have enough for gum but that had to be over thirty years ago.
Honestly, I don't care about the money that much. Of much greater importance, is who dies first: My supervisor or me? I don't want to kill her and I really don't want to die. But the way things are going this weekend, one of us is going through the window.
Just a couple minutes ago she shouts out, "We gotta drop the phone, guy!" She calls me "guy" a lot.
She works in the main room of the office and I work in one of the smaller offices off to the side of the main room. We're not very far apart but there is a wall between us and I usually have earphones on since I'm transcribing some terribly important police business (pot bust, usually). So when she shouts something out, I have to stop what I'm doing and pull one of my earphones out and shout back, "I'm sorry?" Which is exactly what I just did.
And she repeats herself, "We gotta drop the phone!"
"Okay," I reply, "What does that mean?"
...
No fucking answer. But at least I've been brought up to speed with this crucial phone update. I swear to god, I'm going to start bringing a soda can filled with $2.15 in nickels to work with me and every time she shouts some random useless shit about the goddamn hitch in her fucking giddy-up I'm going to rattle that can right in her ear.
And, if that doesn't stop her, I'm going to throw one of us through the window.
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