workfloor experiences of the cynic soul

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people who hate people

Gods, I've been busier than a beaver in a coffeelake. I've had an experience that's wholly unfamiliar to me: I've been WORKING and it was FULFILLING!


Go me!


Well, what do you expect from a new job, except for the initial tention and butterflies and above all interesting new experiences...
It's very unlike my old job. My old job was terrible, would try to get worse at every unexpected twist and succeeded at that with unimaginable success.
And just as I'd think I'd hit rock bottom, that life (I do not really believe in the undead, so I'll call it life, but I've learned that zombiestories originated, in all probability, in an office) that life could not get any worse, it would. Get worse, I mean.
Someone would manage to drain the fun out of things that are normally not considered fun.


For instance. I had the most shitty job ever. I consider myself an intelligent guy. I need something to think about, to occupy my racing neurons, else I’ll go mad. Ooh, Paulo,but you’re stark raving mad already you say? You are right, but it could have been worse.
Anyway, something to occupy my neurons. No such thing at work. Absolutely nothing. After an hour at work I’d feel my brain slowly decaying and the last 90% of the day I’d spend in a blissful comatose state.


Now, some people call me a cynic. Those are the people that actually know me, so they’re probably right. Actually, I myself am one of those people and I know me better than anybody. My cynical outlook on life makes me sort of intolerant of ignorance. There is literally nothing in this world that irritates me as much as people that ventilate their ill-informed silly opinions on matters that do not concern them. The kind of person that you should make sure is at least a block away if you’re having a decent conversation, or run the risk of them joining in the conversation by venting said opinions.


In my ultimately sad case, the kind of person whoms only redeeming quality is the volume of her breasts. Really. There is nothing below the surface to like. Believe me I’ve looked. Sadly, as far as I can determine, there is nothing below the surface at all!


As the more perceptive reader will have noticed – oh what the fuck am I getting at. This is strictly theraputic, nobody reads this, like EVER! – I have had something to do with an ignorant, gitty, knowsy, big breasted, blonde gurl. Someone who truly and deeply hates me (or is a complete dimwit, whichever you think more likely) decided it would be a good idea to place this blonde opposite me.


In my office we used to have cubicles, but management decided that privacy is an important factor in making the office a happy place, so they took away the walls, so we now sit in an open plan office. A huge hall, where there are dozens of people sitting at desks clustered in threes. In this hall, in a corner without any windows, but plenty of artificial light, there was li’l me. Sitting opposite a blonde gurl, whoms facial expression is best described as vacant.
If only we would still have our beloved cardboard boxes, I might succeed but since they took our boxes away I'm stuck with trying to enter the comatose state in which I used to spend my days, but being kept from bliss by the constant chitter chatter from said attention whore.
Even worse, not one single hour seems to go by without several dim witted male bald blonde bitches oozing by to try and impress the attention whore. It’s a terrible thing to behold.


My ranting must come to a stop now, I feel coma coming up. Yes I am back at my old job for the afternoon, and the Suck-a-bus bitch is not near... Wheeeeeeee I feel bliss groping at the edges of conciousness. I'll just shut myself down then...

Oh, Feel free to add to the Workfloor Experiences of the Cynic Soul. I know I will

[The Axe Effect]

Workfloor Experiences of Cynic Souls II