Poor Stormtroopers...

No One Listens to Reason in Hell

I'm not going to say that we are NOT responsible for the fires that are currently plaguing Southern California, but I'll just say that the Devil's sympathy level for those affected by the fires is at an all-time low. No excuse will get you out of work here; even if your house is on fire and you have no clothes to wear except for those you slept in. I don't know if it's because the Devil doesn't care, or he just doesn't listen. Actually, it seems like no one around here listens...

There was one time when I came in with the mother of all migraines -- a regular occurence since being damned to spend eternity here. I was willing to continue working, if only I could find a quieter, darker place to shield my eyes and ears. So I took my laptop and found a back area that was abandoned, and continued to plod on with my duties. I even left a sign on my desk notifying the Horsemen where I was in case they needed to give me yet another last-minute impossible task (that was due days earlier but they forgot to tell me about it

It didn't take long for Horseman #2 to find me. "What are you doing back here?"

I put on my sweetest voice and most charming smile. "Did you see my note? I'm sitting here today because I have a really bad migraine, and I needed to get out of the light and noise. I'm still completing my project, though," I assured him.

"But you don't sit here," he said.

I gawked at him. What the...? Did he not just hear me explain...?

"You sit out there," he continued, pointing in the general direction of my cubicle

I tried a new tactic. "Is it okay if I sit back here today, due to my migraine? It won't impede my work, in fact it'll help me work faster and better."

He shook his head quickly, as if I fly was buzzing around his ear. I almost heard a rattling noise coming from his skull. "You're supposed to work over there," he said.

"Yes. I know," I replied, waiting.

"...But why don't you work here today, since you have a headache," he said, but he was scowling

Brilliant idea. I'm so glad he thought of it.

You Can't Threaten the Devil

Ironically, perhaps, or just a sick koinky-dink...Hell received a bomb threat yesterday. Yes, the place where threats are a daily occurence, where evil has originated, the place that creates horror and destruction and eternal pain received a bomb threat. But instead of the Devil and the minions of HR merely laughing in the face of insignificance, they took it quite seriously.

Of course a company-wide email went out, vaguely alluding to the exact nature of the threat. "A voicemail was left that substantiated a sort of threatening circumstance that has brought our safety to attention. Please be careful."

Well, thanks, that helps.

Then we had a "routine" fire drill. Fire drills in Hell are, of course, the most unhelpful and least calming way to show you how to exit the building. Hell's Office Manager reasoned that during the drill "we don't want to crowd the exits, so we'll be practicing in shifts." How this is to prepare us for a real emergency is still unknown.

The entire company of Hell is on alert. My fellow heathens and I don't know when, where, or how the bomb is supposed to happen. And now we are too confused to know how to evacuate if such threat becomes a reality. Nice.

Bizarre Work Injury o' the Day

A deep paper-cut to my finger as I tried to get a toilet seat cover from it's dispenser. I have learned something today, the hard way: Everything in Hell can and will hurt you.

Dilbert Quotes, Anyone?

Taken from around the net:
A magazine recently ran a "Dilbert Quotes" contest. They were looking for people to submit quotes from their real-life Dilbert-type managers. These were voted the top ten quotes in corporate America:

"As of tomorrow, employees will only be able to access the building using individual security cards. Pictures will be taken next Wednesday, and employees will receive their cards in two weeks." (This was the winning quote from Fred Dales, Microsoft Corp. in Redmond WA )

"What I need is an exact list of specific unknown problems we might encounter." (Lykes Lines Shipping)

"E-mail is not to be used to pass on information or data. It should be used only for company business." (Accounting manager, Electric Boat Company)

"This project is so important we can't let things that are more important interfere with it."(Advertising/Marketing manager, United Parcel Service)

"Doing it right is no excuse for not meeting the schedule." (Plant Manager, Delco Corporation)

"No one will believe you solved this problem in one day! We've been working on it for months. Now go act busy for a few weeks and I'll let you know when it's time to tell them." (R&D supervisor, Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing/3M Corp.)

Quote from the Boss: "Teamwork is a lot of people doing what I say." (Marketing executive, Citrix Corporation)

My sister passed away and her funeral was scheduled for Monday. When I told my Boss, he said she died on purpose so that I would have to miss work on the busiest day of the year. He then asked if we could change her burial to Friday. He said, "That would be better for me." (Shipping executive, FTD Florists)

"We know that communication is a problem, but the company is not going to discuss it with the employees." (Switching supervisor, AT&T Long Lines Division)

Anyone got any to add? Put them in the comments!

An Open Letter to My Officemates

I think the Professor over at Diaries of the Professor speaks for all of us on this. These rules he has put forth should be mandated throughout the business world. Period.

An Open Letter to My Officemates

I often wonder what people did to really get up the craw of their co-workers in older times. Did they go and handle each other's slide rules with sticky fingers, or blow smoke into cracked open office doors? Maybe they would scratch the mimeograph roller putting creases in your copies. Regardless, I bet it was annoying.

This letter serves as notice to my coworkers that henceforth, any peer, manager, underling or otherwise semi-upright human being that breaks any of the following rules in my desk area is going to get hit. It might be a slap on the wrist, or a smack across the face, but it's coming.

So, the rules:

1. Do not touch my monitor with your fingers.
   Just don't. I have to sit here in my Picasso-designed office chair and stare at this cheap LCD all day to do my job. Having the remnants of your greasy hair or yesterday's dim sum on my monitor makes it hard to see the detail I need to do my job. Imagine I were to come to your car window and wipe a smudge of Vaseline over the center of your vision...with my ass. Yeah, it's like that.
   
   Now, I know that you need to move your finger along when you read something, and I've noticed your lips moving too, but for the love of everything good and holy, can't you use the end of a pen or just hover your finger along? Is your depth perception not working? Can't you wear a glove? Do I look like I own stock in Windex? Next time you see fit to smudge my screen, I'm going to take that blue crap and pour it in latte, jackass.
   
   
2. Do not burp or pass gas in my office.
   Hey guess what? I really can't stand the smell of your digestion. I'm sure you're proud you have the time to spend 90 minutes at lunch hangin' at that gyro joint, but I swear if you belch in my office one more time I am going to brain you with a travel mug.
   
   Your gases, whether produced via mouth or ass, are not welcome in my area. If you feel the need to release the hounds, step into the hallway, go back to your own office, or stick your cannon into a vent. Your stench could melt the varnish off a coffee table. I think you need to reassess your fiber intake. Perhaps inhaling an entire box of bulgar flour isn't the best way to start your day.
   


3. Do not email me funny pictures you found on the Internet.
   Look, I've been online since the early 90s and during this time, I've seen just about everything I want to see on the web. Please do not forward me the picture of the dog with human eyes, or the kids all sitting around drinking. I saw them the first time, back in 1994. And they weren't funny then. They just took longer to load.
   
   Please consider jokes, chain mail, inspirational stories about a nameless person with no legs and a Buick-sized tumor, and anything else that came to you with the initials "FWD:" as falling under this ban. I just don't want it.
   
   Of course, the video of the monkey smelling his own finger is always welcome.
   
   
4. Do not impart your political views on me while I'm typing
   I voted for someone. I read the news. Assume these things about me and we'll be just fine. But under no circumstances are you to a) tell me I'm wrong b) ask me why I support ______ or c) try and diminish my viewpoints by offering up your own propaganda. If you don't comply, I will punch you in the genitals.
   
   Twice.
   
   
5. Do not tell me about why I need to see your favorite TV show.
   You know I watch a lot of TV. Too much, actually. So, for the sake of office civility, assume that I've either seen the show in question, or do not care to discuss it any longer. Truth be told, I do not care about the fact that you see yourself as a spiritual cast member of "The Facts of Life." Except for the fact that you look like Natalie and smell like a pile of Tootie.
   
   Plus, all I can see right now is your damn finger prints on my monitor all way.
   


6. Do not talk to me while I am eating lunch at my desk.
   This one is really for the managers. When you come to my cube and see me eating the latest in sub-$3 frozen cuisine, please do not make the assumption that I will be willing to allow my food to go cold while you go over the latest workplan. I'm eating my lunch, and while yes -- I am at my desk -- I'm on my lunch break. Just consider me to be out of the office at one of those restaurants that you don't pay me enough to visit more than once a pay cycle.
   
   Next time you come in and chat until my food is cold I'm going to take my leftovers and stick them in your office next to the books you never read (like the labor laws, or those instructions that came with the deodorant) Then I'll smear my Marie Callender's all over your shiny new monitor. All because you didn't follow the rules.
   
   Asshat.

Standing Room Only!

We got an email yesterday from Horseman #1:

The Devil will be here tomorrow for a wrap-up meeting. Please note that this meeting is mandatory, so please be punctual. If for any reason you cannot attend, please let me know ASAP.

And great news! At the end of the meeting, we will be having a surprise birthday celebration for The Devil. The birthday boy will be introduced at the end of The Devil’s speech.

So this morning we dragged ourselves in to Hell at the God-awful hour of 8 AM and entered the conference room. The first thing I noticed was there were no chairs.

The Devil spoke for 2 hours straight. TWO HOURS. It was a barrage of overly-hyped optimism ("The company is fine! The recession won't hit us! There may be layoffs, but not if you're working hard enough!") and mixed metaphors ("We could sit here and let the grass grow but that won't get the train to the station! Just line up all your chickens in one basket and keep all hands on deck, and this year our horse will be in first place!"). And we all had to listen to this bullshit, while standing so closely together that I couldn't even breathe.

The best part was when The Devil said, "Now people have been asking about how to raise morale in the company." He shook his head, laughing. "Morale is great! There's no problem with morale, there's never been a problem with morale. So what is there to fix?" Well, genius, if people are asking, that's a sure-fire way to recognize that there's a problem! Of course, someone who sits on his huge throne all day and never interacts with us heathens wouldn't know this.

Finally the big "surprise" for The Devil. The Office Manager wheeled in a big cake aflame with at least 100 candles and under the piercing gazes of the Horsemen we were all forced to sing 'Happy Birthday.' The Devil didn't look the least bit surprised. Instead he looked around at all of us nodding.

It was torturous. Moronic. And completely irrelevant. And all while standing up...without coffee.