Chain of Fools

My life is too complicated right now, so I’m going to switch things up and talk sh*t about other people. Yay! I know, I'm excited too.

Was it DL Hughley on the Kings of Comedy who said, “there is always that one person at your job you are this close to slapping the sh*t out of? And if you can’t think of anyone, that person just might be you?” Well I don’t remember his words exactly, but my point is, there are definitely those people at my job.

I don’t necessarily want to slap them. It’s more of wanting to stick my foot out when they walk by, so I can enjoy watching them eat sh*t. (Is that mean?) I can’t even think of just one person I would do like that. There are like four or five of these mufuckas lurking around my workspace…

*First of all there is this dude who is fabulously in touch with his homosexuality. Comes to work with product in his hair, eyeliner lined just right and flaps his hands around way too much when he talks. The thing I can’t quite figure out is how his breath can be so funky? It is a funk that comes from deep within and boy is it kickin’. His breath would, no question, Ty-kwon-do that ass in a fight.

I’m just curious, how do you have time to put product in your hair, but not brush your teeth? I’m not playing when I say I can’t breathe when this fool talks. One time when he spoke to me, I accidentally breathed in and I swear I farted.

*Next there is the new guy. I kind of feel sorry for him, because no one really takes the time to show him the ropes. And someone needs to, because goddamn he is irritating. I will be in the middle of a conversation with somebody and here he come with some random ass, dumb ass question, like, “do you spell Fat Tire, P-H-A-T?” Looking at me throughout the entire question with a serious and innocent expression on his face. I’m like man it’s a beer not a woman! Focus. Fat Tire, I’m sure, is made by some ol country ass people who don’t know nothing about no PHAT.

*Now, I’m going to go ahead and categorize the next two people in the same group. The two that come to work every single day with an attitude, never want to do sh*t, complain about everything and then always want to be the first ones to go home. Stomping around saying sh*t in a whiny ass voice like, “Omigod, I can’t believe I have a customer! I only made three dollars tonight, I was going to go home an now they want to seat me!”

I’m sorry, why don’t you Debbie Downer take Negative Nancy home with you, where you two can sit on the couch and complain to each other that the remote is too far away? Don’t come into work with your clouded black aura blowing smoke in my direction. I might not want to be here either, but nobody will ever hear me at work crying like a little b*tch. Sh*t be happy you on the clock.

*Then there is Ruby. (I’m going to go ahead and bust her all out). Ruby isn’t one of the people I want to trip, but this girl is high ALL THE TIME. I just don’t get how a person can come to work that high? When I’m stoned, I like to sit on my couch, eat and probably laugh at some stupid sh*t. I would never get any work done. Although I wouldn’t even call what Ruby does, work. She kind of just floats around the building everyday. Always telling me band camp stories that are like 20 minutes long.

One time she was telling me this story and I kind of tuned her out, like I usually do. I guess she got to the end of her story, because she starts cracking up. “Get it? Get it?” she said. “No I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t really paying attention.” So she starts over, trying to tell me again and I cut her off like, “No, really it’s ok, I’m sure I had to be there.”