Something exciting happenned today! are you ready kiddies?
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Oh come on at least give me an enthusiastic "yaaaaaaaaay!"….

…….(crickets chirping)………..

You bastards.

Anyway, I was called by my supervisor for a one on one meeting. Usually these things make me soil my pants, because they usually mean I’m gonna get my face smacked like a bitch for something I did wrong. But that was not the case. Miss Fucking Ray of Sunshine (she really is, she’s like a mixture of joyful whimsy and satanic mischief wrapped in sarcasm and blunt honesty) As I was saying, Miss FRS sang praises about me, and told me that I was going to cover for one of The Girls, a member of the powerhouse duo of harcore gun-toting superhuman graphic designers under her command, who is going on vacation. Great! I thought. Two more weeks of feeling useful AND having a desk for myself!
Ah, but it didn’t stop there, children. Apparently she also managed to sneak me into a special training for the company’s new software, guaranteeing me a certain chance of covering for anybody else in the whole newspaper. Oh happy day. I’ll have an advantage, but that software is a bitch in heels. Me no likey.
Plus! (yes, kiddies, there’s more!) one of The Girls is going on maternity leave on christmas, so if I wait a while, I can also score those extra months! Oh my stars and garters!
Needless to say I said yes to every proposal she made to me, like a mindless drone, eager to prove myself in the constant entropy that is working on a daily publication.
But then came the "not so good" news. She said I don’t talk enough.
What the fuck bitch? I don’t…. I…..
My god she’s right. I have the annoying habit of only speaking what’s necessary, instead of endlessly yammering stupid shit (like I’m doing right now). It seem’s that’s not the right attitude to work in that environment. Guess I’ll have to turn into miss fucking congeniality. Great. I have to whiten my teeth now.
And the other thing: My work is great, she says, but I’m too damn slow. I get so nit-picky with whatever the hell I’m doing, even if it’s a 3 inch ad, that I waste too much time trying to make things look impossibly good. That’s my mistake. Clients don’t care. They want quick, easy, cheap stuff. They’re also goddamn morons.
Then It dawned on me: Jesus tap dancin’ Christ! I have to cover for one of The Girls! I have to be as good as them! (enter "Panic attack inside my head but look cool on the outside" mode).

Now lemme talk to ya about The Girls. Them bitches got mad skillz with a computer! I mean, what ungodly creature can put together a whole 10-30 page supplement in one day by themselves???
Human they ain’t, I tell ya. They’re Art School Incubi.
And I have to be able to be as good as them in a couple of weeks.

May whatever divinity who is morosely scratching it’s balls while floating in space bestow some mercy on my soul.
Anyway that’s the end of my story. Did you enjoy it kids?
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You up for some ice cream?
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How about I make love to your grandparents while you watch?

-Ah, that got your attention didn’t it?

You fucking pervs.

Get the fuck off my Blog.

Posted in Work |

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