Many of you may be unaware that in order to earn a crust, I work. Not as a professional Minx, chance would be a fine thing. And where I work, the current situation, and the predicted forecast for the foreseeable future, is cloudy to utterly shite, with a strong chance of rain.
In other words, not good. The reason for the sturm and drang overhanging my previously pleasantly disposed workplace can be summed up in one word.
Yes, I work for a manipulative, egotistical, self-obsessed, obnoxious, lying creep who thinks he is god’s gift to management. No i do NOT fucking well like him, (is it that obvious?) but this is mostly only because HE doesn’t like ME, and has been picking on me ever since he came to work here. Fucking misogynist. And i do not use that term lightly.
(Naturally, and this will not surprise any of you who know anything about the business world, the Powers That Be adore him, because he has no Heart and no Soul.)
This morning, as i sat in a 3-hour compulsory course, he pissed me off. So, appearing for all the world to be taking diligent and copious notes, i wrote him the kind of letter that one day, after far too many tequila slammers, i will hand him a copy of. Probably tattooed on my generously juicy heinie.
“Thank you for your passive aggression toward me this morning, which you managed to skillfully combine with implied criticism and a clear sense of quite how much you despise me — all in one jolly little interjection.
“It may interest you to know that I have never had a manager or boss who inspired me less than you do. I’ve rarely, if ever, seen anyone less interested in employee morale, to the furtherment of his or her own career and subsequent Ph.D in Advanced Arslikhan.
“I have my yearly review with you this week, to which I am looking forward in a similar way to the the one with which most people eagerly anticipate root canal treatment. I’m sure you know why — although I am also sure that you strenuously deny all knowledge in front of your own boss, who, happily enough, is visiting us this week from overseas. If i could only convey to her quite how repulsive a person you are, you can bet your slippery-if-hairy li’l old butt i would. However, the tea-dance-like moves required in order to survive in this professional world prevent me from doing so, and I can tell you, it’s enough to make a monkey bite its mother.
“Here, however — and thank the good lord for it, i might add — I can be more free and open. I there fore would like to extend the invitation to you to get down on all fours and royally kiss my minxy ass. Bite me, fucker. Munch away.
Not yours for much longer if the gods are smiling on me –
“PS The way you walk is ridiculous. It’s acceptable enough in a three year-old child, to bounce along on the balls of your feet like a demented orangutan, or as though your heels were maimed in some strange way, but for fuck’s sake, man! You’re over fifty!! Get a fucking life and act like a human being for once.”