Likely ways of moving on from my current job
Likely Methods of Leaving my Current Job
All good things must come to an end. Someday, somehow, I won’t work as a whore here in the shithole anymore. I have to admit the thought of such a prospect made me curious, so I got to thinking about how I might end up leaving … someday … and go to the mythical land of playful unicorns.
Alas, I realized that my best ticket out of here, Mama Compensation, is even less likely than getting a better job. Dammit. Of course even winning the lotto has higher odds than getting a better job. Scientifically speaking, getting raped by Hitler tomorrow would also have higher odds than finding a better job.
Realistically speaking, my best shot out of this job, short of death, of course, appears to be from the sale of one of my body parts. Perhaps I have some limited value to society after all.
Dreams can come true!
I just checked and this is confirmed. I shit you not!
As of today, right now, I own the WordPress “poop” tag! I’m so happy! I mean, just look up there and marvel at it. WordPress says that right now, I am the “featured blog” on the subject of poop! Somebody pinch me! I’ve reached the top of the heap, and I can tell you, it is good.
This is not a drill!
I’ve wanted this so bad I could taste it. It’s been a goal for so long, now that it has been achieved I’m not quite sure how to feel. Yes, it’s great, don’t get me wrong, but now what? I’ve never actually met a goal before. What is this strange feeling called? Someone, help me please! What comes next???
Don’t be a turd. Help me celebrate!
Employees must pretend to wash hands
Today’s post is brought to you by my splitting headache. I checked out of the game yesterday and today and became low-functioning myself. I may have popped my cork with some self-induced anger and frustration. Perhaps we’ll delve into that some other time…
I think I’ve blogged about the proximity of the mother fucking toilet to my office once or twice, eh? You think you’ve got problems? Try putting your office and desk a mere eight feet away from where people poop. Try it, god dammit!
What normally goes with pooping? For most of us that might be a little thing called hand washing. Our company even provides a sign that says, “EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS.” What our company does not provide, however, is fucking hand soap!
A little prerequisite reading for this post (or not, whatever, who fucking cares):
Pooping where you work
I pooped at work and … EIEEEE!
Feeling pooped out
How does a rat get in your toilet?
Employees must wash hands
Long story short, the hand soap in our office ran out about three weeks ago. The owner has been hanging around our office these three weeks and using the bathroom just like the rest of us.
Amongst his other traits, the owner happens to be a friggin’ germaphobe. He must have learned how to become one while getting his Masters in psychology. He’s always disinfecting his hands, wiping down doorknobs, sterilizing mouses and keyboards, and fun stuff like that.
So it was truly awe-inspiring and amazing to watch him, day after day, use that restroom and not use fucking hand soap on his mother fucking hands.
I can hear the water run. I can hear towels being pulled. I can hear the garbage can lid slam shut as he throws his towels away. “Who the fuck does he think he’s fooling?” I ask myself again and again.
Me? I’m too smart for that. I’ve been down this road before. I keep my own personal backup stash of hand soap and hand sterilizer in the cabinet in my office. Oh yes. I’m the one and only employee in the outfit who actually washes poop off with soap. Call me the next level of evolution if you will. I’ll take it.
More boss fun coming soon, I promise. I have a lot to say about that douche nozzle of late. With the onset of summer he tends to show more of his plumage. I can hardly wait.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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