I don't really hate my job, it just bothers me sometimes. Like today, when I have reached the apex of how much I can handle without wanting to kill myself with paper clips.
Apparently it's Administrative Professionals Appreciation Day (I would have stopped at Hallmark to pick up a few cards had I known before eleven o'clock this morning), and my boss ordered a lot of pizza from Giordano's for everyone. I thought, "Great! I woke up late and didn't get time to fix a peanut butter (and no jelly) sandwich! Now I don't have to buy lunch, and since I only ate a bowl of Crispix for dinner last night, I can ease the feeling that my stomach hates me and wants me to die!"
For those of you who don't know, I'm a picky eater. That's the very short version of the story. When it comes to pizza, I'll eat it with pepperoni or just cheese. Nothing else. Of course I was an idiot to think that there would be an endless supply of either (or both!) kinds of pizza for me to feast upon while I create files because we keep losing applications. (This probably occurs because we just got a filing room. This morning.)
So when I notice that people are quickly heading to the ex-conference room / new filing room, I put down the files I'm working on and follow them in. Only to discover the remaining slice of cheese pizza making its way onto a coworker's plate. Then I scan the table and check out my options. Hmm. Spinach? No. Veggie? No. Sausage and mushrooms? Well, I guess I can pick them off!
So I grab two slices (and if you're familiar with Chicago pizza, you'll know that two slices of non-stuffed crust pizza is probably less filling than a peanut butter (and no jelly) sandwich) and head back to my cubicle. I realize for the first time that I am the only person in the office who does not have a personalized and laminated sign that reads, "On break!!!" I sit down and begin to literally lift up the cheese (which at this point is practically solid) and pull out the large chunks of sausage and the mushrooms (which I decided look like manta rays, which remind me of vaginas thanks to Dorothy Allison). I'm left with two tiny, pathetic slices of cheese pizza and a mound of sausage and mushrooms. I'm very happy we didn't all eat together as a group in the new filing room.
I guess that's all for today. I should go before my break ends. I don't want to be written up for using the internet!
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6 comments:
With all the complaining you do, you sound like a woman. Be a man for once.
Good one. I'm hurt.
First of all, "be a man?" Try not leaving anonymous comments, cuntface.
Second: if I didn't complain so much, I wouldn't have anything to write about. That's a goddamn fact. And my blog can't be too bad if you keep coming back to it, since according to my site meter you weren't referred by any other links.
Women! What complainers we are! Always with the whining and complaining! It's linked to the X chromosome, you know, which is why we are scientifically proven to complain twice as much as men other than Tyler, who may be a woman.
Sausage is delicious. There's no denying that, Tyler. Once you have accepted this undeniable fact, you will be a happier, more enlightened person.
I LOVE IT when people leave "I don't like your blog" comments on other people's blogs - uh, just don't read it.
Hello, you are a recent college grad - complaining is your JOB.
Steve, I LIKE sausage, just not on pizza. Also, you're a horrible Jew.
Sarah, aren't women bitches? I hate women.
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