When I worked for the state of Oregon, the Oregon Health Plan to
be exact, we had an interesting phone setup. One of the great things
was the queue. Anyway, to the point, this client kept referring
to me in less than flattering terms so I sent him into the queue
of the group of people who had just gone to lunch. He was calling
long distance and was pissed about how much he was spending. He
stayed on the line for seventy minutes before the call was answered
and the case-worker transferred him to my phone because I was the
person he needed to talk to about his problem. So I gave him the
name of my boss and was utterly and completely rude, surly and otherwise
UN-pleasant.
I work at Long John Silver's doing kitchen prep work, and if I'm
working alone sometimes I jack off. Since you've amused me with
this delightful web site I'll pass along this advice: Don't eat
the cole slaw.
I spent the last two hours reading and following your page instead
of working.
At least twice, when working late, I've sought out the desks of
some of my catty bitch co-workers, the ones who make my work life
impossible, found their cute slutty little I'll-catch-me-a-junior-partner
patent pumps under their desks, and spit way down in the toebox.
Then put the pumps back under their desks. They never — or
at least I *think* they never — realized this.
Having been hired by the Senior Administrator for a local Internet
Service Provider, as a Systems Administrator, I learned that I had
actually been hired to do all the crappy administrative functions
like domain name, and dns record maintenance. Being female, I disliked
this with a passion. The Senior Administrator and one of the younger
department members took to high intensity sexual banter, whispering
around me and telling me things about women's role in life. When
the really cool projects were in the works, this Senior Administrator,
all of 24 years old with a definite liking for methamphetamines
(which he thought he hid well) for his all night projects, covertly
tried to keep me out, despite my longer experience and his need
for assistance on a grand scale. The service at this ISP was so
horrible during this time that I was ashamed to link my name to
it and I eventually went on to bigger and better things. But in
desperate retaliation, I hacked an account on another ISP server
and mailed the Phrack issue "Make your own Methamphetamine" to this
Senior Administrator. I still get a kick out of seeing him get that
peice of email and trying to trace the source and wonder WHO COULD
HaVE KnOwN????
When I was a teller in an individual drive-in bank window, I counted
a business' money and they were $20 short, so I changed the deposit
slip in front of them. After they drove off, I found the extra $20
and kept it.
When I was a janitorial supervisor, some hag used to bitch about
the shitty cleaning job we did. She kept an extra pair of shoes
by her desk so I put a thumbtack in her shoe. HAH HA HA
I steal from my job.
[This is also a Dirty Secret, but since it involves
boredom-inspired misbehavior at work, I'll put it here] Once,
when I was working in a small "risque" gift shop, I beat off behind
the cash register to a pack of nudie playing cards (it was a slow
day). When I spunked all over the carpet, I just rubbed it in with
my shoe.
I had this rotten boss in a temp job once who used to teach Tae
Kwon Doh or some such hippie karate and who was an absolute pig
to work with. He made me waste a whole day of work Xeroxing his
repulsively written mystery novel in which he, as the hero, encountered
many long-legged seventeen year olds who responded intuitively to
his power and masculine vibes, man. He always made this huge production
about getting him lunch. He'd send me out to get his lunch for it,
and then I had to hide it in his office, and if any of his clients
saw me bringing it in there I'd be in big trouble. He liked to keep
everybody running around all the time. Anyways, I routinely ate
the pickles off his sandwiches, and I'm pretty sure I once licked
the inside of his bread. One day I got so revolted by something
he'd done that I spit on his chair. I remember leaning over it and
watching the drool roll onto his seat like I was somebody else.
It was idiotic, but I couldn't think of anything meaner to do to
him given the limited props in the office and the fact that I needed
the job. I had to express myself? I don't know. It's a mystery to
me.
