Ok. So it has been quite an uneventful day at work today. Almost nothing to do, bored out of my ass, waiting for time to pass by while depending on an online forum to keep me sane while trying not to laugh too hard and attract attention. I look longingly at my watch and notice there’s only 2 and a half hours left to leave.
Then out of nowhere comes one of the lowest forms of humanity known in existence (a freelance salesman) and assigns me with work. Great, I thought, that way time can pass by faster.
Well, it just so happens that Fucking Bastard (the salesman, who from now on shall be known as FB) wanted me to do a supermarket shopper. A fucking shopper. In under 3 hours. Arranging 19 pictures of food along with their prices in less than 180 minutes.
Being the masochistic fuck that I am, I said yes. I spent all that time dragging & dropping & typing & arranging while FB stood behind me, breathing down my neck and making stupid remarks about what should go where. God I hate being watched while I work. I just wanted to reach back, grab him by the collar and smash his fucking ass-face into the monitor so I can work in peace. Not only that, but FB kept telling me every ten minutes to hurry up or he was going to lose that client. Goddamn you to the fiery pits of hell, FB. Is it my fault you decided to coerce some poor sap to buy you some advertising space at such a horrific time just so you can fatten your boss’s wallet (and yours as well)? Frankly, my dork, i dont give a damn. I worked at my own pace, feeling some sort of devilish satisfaction everytime FB started breathing sharply and pacing around, evidently nervous about his delicate little conundrum. Boo-hoo. That’ll teach you to do your goddamn work on time, ya’ piece of shit.
Finally, It’s all over, and everybody is pissed off at this poor old sap, because it’s HIS ad that is holding back the whole department, and everybody wants to leave. Seeing everybody giving him dirty looks somehow eased my wrath towards this wretched being. Hardy har har, motherfucker.
I left tired and slightly pissed, hoping I never have to work with this imbecile again. I only have nine days left, and I would not like to get in trouble for bitch-slapping mediocre employees who rely on you to get their shit together. Bastards.
Fuckin’ salespeople… if you do get to bitch-slap the son of a bitch, please give me a call on my line first. I definitely want to see that.
by S. Lafont September 3rd, 2004 at 2:23 am…funny how salesperons and their “fascimiles razonables” tend to fuck creative work on any field of communications…I can not count how many times people come with bogus deadlines for a promo that should have been on the air “like, three days ago!”
They are, defintely, FUCKTARDS!
by Ezequiel September 3rd, 2004 at 9:44 am