I wanted to say, to this CEO I ran into, a collection of cliches like you wouldn't believe right down to the tight jeans, dismissive attitude, small-dick yuppy German car, lame sports activity you don't need much talent for and a soul patch (but then I overheard him tear a new one to a telemarketer over the phone and thought: now here's a man whose face I'd love to watch while strangling him during dirty sex ...) I wanted to say something nice about my superiors, something like: The reason they are so effective is because they believe all this shit is actually important... (Whereas I believe important things are on the walls in Louvre.)
Or, you know, if I was evil as fuck and was not afraid General would beat me if he found out, I could say something like: I'll just stand here in the corner and be quiet. You don't have to worry about me, I'd never tell anyone why our books don't match ...
Or, you know, if I was evil as fuck and was not afraid General would beat me if he found out, I could say something like: I'll just stand here in the corner and be quiet. You don't have to worry about me, I'd never tell anyone why our books don't match ...
Luckily they fired me before I could say anything and once we heard the results of the yearly review, well, it was not quite so much 'effective' as it was more ... five blind one-armed morons in a rubber boat trying to paddle each in their own direction with a fork. In an ocean of CBD.
... Why was I fired, you may ask? Well, not quite as fired as sent home a week and a half before the end of my contract, saying I still have hours to spare and some yearly leave. Can just go now, don't even have to come back to sign any release forms. I've noticed quite a pattern by now in my life, when important people are in the house, I am never on shift. Funny that. Anyway, I humbly inquired on why my contract won't be extended, since I was getting quite the hang of things and thought myself to be one of the better, faster and more cheerful employees. Their answer was: it was obviously too hard work for me.
That is grown-up speak for: she has a temper of a banshee on crack and we need to get rid of her before she finds out something that could really hurt us.
Damn you, dollar store, you will be missed.
... Why was I fired, you may ask? Well, not quite as fired as sent home a week and a half before the end of my contract, saying I still have hours to spare and some yearly leave. Can just go now, don't even have to come back to sign any release forms. I've noticed quite a pattern by now in my life, when important people are in the house, I am never on shift. Funny that. Anyway, I humbly inquired on why my contract won't be extended, since I was getting quite the hang of things and thought myself to be one of the better, faster and more cheerful employees. Their answer was: it was obviously too hard work for me.
That is grown-up speak for: she has a temper of a banshee on crack and we need to get rid of her before she finds out something that could really hurt us.
Damn you, dollar store, you will be missed.
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