There’s this “seasoned hippie turned establishment”, with whom my boss has been strongarmed cooperate, is “helping” us setup one of our studies on Parkinson’s disease. Not only is this guy a complete clown, but the study that his astounding insights help shape – a study that, without his overriding dipshitiousness, would actually be doable – has become the most complicated, tedious, exacting pile of crapola the likes of which our lab has never seen. Of course, by now I think you may have guessed that I don’t always give him all the respect he deserves. (He being esteemed faculty of Portland’s “Oregon College of Oriental Medicine” who probably earned his advanced degree in the field of chakra kinetics or something similar.)
He leaves a 2 minute voice message on my office phone, of which the following is a small sampling:
“umm yeah hi… this is R_______ H___________________ at OCOM [he was sure acronomize the college name to convey to me his institution’s legitimacy] Yeah, I sent an email to you about, oh-I-don’t-know, 10 days ago asking for your most recent versions of the HIPAA forms that you guys submitted to your review board… …You really should get those forms to me ASAP okay… …If there’s any reason why you can’t get these to me today, please send me an email right away… Anyway, thanx ;)”
My angered reply into the phone loud enough for all of my fellow, obedient research assistants (who, incidentally, are quite accustomed to my outbursts) to hear:
“Yeah BUTTFACE I’ll give you the best goddamn reason you’ll ever hear: I DON’T WORK FOR YOUR CRUSTY ASS. So why don’t you go get some bitchass assistants of your own to baby-sit your fuck’tarded shit.”
I of course feel like quite the big man yelling at my voicemail. Being the deskjockey that I now am, who has painfully come the the conclusion that my aggressive posturing only hurts myself, I sent a pussyass email plainly telling him not to contact me for requests such as those any longer.
One reply on “Greetings! I will be your boss for the day…”
Wow, good for you. You should remind him that the forms are for HIPAA not HIPPIE and that he can surely petition his HIGHER SELF for some creative insights into the federal bureaucratic process, with which he and his fucking retarded buddies will be getting cozy REAL SOON as the FDA comes down on their quackin’ asses.
End of Rant, 93, and Peace-out