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Dear co-workers, managers, underlings and other people who show up in my cube,
Years ago I wonder what people did to really get up the cackles of their co-workers. Did they go and handle each other 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. Perhaps the pet peeves of our forefathers were completely different that the behaviors of my co-workers that I consider to be pet peeves. I don't know, and frankly I really don't care. What I care about right now is changing your behaviors while you visit the eight by eight cube that I call my office before I unleash the fury.
This letter serves as notice to you that hence forth, any co-worker, manager, underling or otherwise human being that breaks any of the following rules in my cube is going to get smacked. It might be a good hard smack across the face, or it might be a smack on the wrist. It depends on the maliciousness of your infringement, so don't think of coming in here and breaking all the rules today. I'll smack you so hard when you stop rolling, your clothes will be out of style (which in your case is not going to be that hard).
So, the rules:
- Do not touch my monitor with your fingers. - Seriously, don't. I have to sit here in my cheap office chair and stare at these glass fronted cubes all day to do my job. Having the remnants of your greasy hair or sticky lunch or snotty nose 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 put a smudge of Vaseline over the center of your vision. That's what it is like.
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 Jebus, can't you fucking use the non-writing end of a pen or just hover your finger along? Do you have to smudge my monitor up? Can't you wear a glove? Do you see the fucking glass cleaner in my office? Next time you see fit to smudge my screen, I'm going to take that Windex and pour it in your coffee; liberally, you bitch.
- 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 that you are proud that you have the free time at work to spend 90 minutes at lunch across the street at that Greek place, but I swear if you belch in my office one more fucking time I am going to take my keyboard and shove it up your ass sideways.
Your gastric gasses, whether produced via your mouth or your ass are not welcome in my cube. Even when I am not here I do not wish to smell your fowled air. If you feel the need to burp, step into the hallway or go back to your own office. The stench that permeates the air after your burps melts the paint off the wall, and is second only to your passing gas in terms of smells that ruin my day. Next time you feel the need to fart, please step out the window and plummet to the ground. Well, that or go to the restroom like any other person that respects the people he works with. This is not your buddy’s house, it is my tiny office.
- Do not send me cute pictures you found on the web. - Look, I've been on the web since the early 90s and in the past decade 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. They are not funny, instead they just serve to clog up our already over taxed Internet connection, a connection that I need to surf HotJobs.com and Monster.com so I can get my ass away from dip shits like you.
Please consider jokes, chain mail, stories about your religious beliefs and anything else forwarded to you via more than one other person as falling under this ban. I just don't want it. I have friends who know my sense of humor who send me emails that I actually find funny so I don’t need your crap.
- Do not attempt to sway my political opinion at work. - Look, I have to work with you and I'd like us to remain civil while at the office. As you can tell if you have read this far, I pretty much hate your fucking guts but am able to keep you fairly oblivious to this fact by being professional at the office. Since you seem to be one of these people that wanted to impeach one president for lying about a blow job and re-elect another after lying his way into a war that he could not be bother to plan for, I can tell you flat out, you don't want to talk politics to me. I've taken the step of reading the news and making decisions on the state of affairs for myself, while you seem to enjoy being told what to think. This means that I am far more capable of making my point while you always resort to yelling at me.
Well, you know what? I'm sick and tired of people like you being so lazy as to allow your highly esteemed liarder (not leader, he's a liar) carte blanc in ruining America. I didn't become a citizen of the country to watch it become a charade of what the founding fathers fought for. You obviously don't care and that pisses me off. So, don't bring it up, because you don't want me on my soapbox.
- Do not tell me about your favorite TV show. - I've covered this before too many times. You know I do not watch TV, I prefer a good book. Plus, I sit here looking at your fucking finger prints on my monitor all way. Do you really think I want to go home and watch yet another screen for hours at end just because you do? No, instead I read books or magazines or the newspaper. That's how I relax.
Of course, this doesn't mean that you do not feel obligated to pass on the latest in lowest-common denominator humor that the scribes on your favorite sitcom of the night spew forth. I'm sure the joke was funny last night when you saw and laughed because it was delivered by a highly paid actor; but I have to hear it from an insufferable bore like you.
If I feel the need to watch a TV show, I'll pick it myself thanks. Please don't fill me in on the shit that I wanted to miss anyway.
- Do not talk to me while I am eating lunch at my desk. - This one is really for you managers. When you come to my cube and see me eating the latest in under $2 frozen lunches please do not make the assumption that I will be willing to allow my food to go cold while you go over the latest work. I'm eating my lunch, and while yes I am in my cube doing so, when there is food on a plate, 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 week.
Next time you come in and chat until my food is cold I'm going to take it and stick it in your office where you'll never look (probably behind your copy of labor laws that you obviously have never read). Then I'll take that Windex and spritz your eyes you asshat.
I hope that I have been able to get through your thick skull just how fucking insensitive you are. I hate having to work with people like you and only request that you follow my rules for the office hours. I will post these rules in my office tonight. Break them at your peril.
this is in or around Cubicle Hell