Office personnel laugh, yell and swear loudly about my closet of an office all day, everyday. But when MS Turd randomly swallowed a chunk of text and regurgitated it, mirror-imaged, ten pages up my .doc, surrounding office personnel fell eerily silent (for once) after I growled angrily and slammed my fist on my desk in response. From the other side of the wall I hear “What was that? Is there a monkey loose!?!” And I thinks: “yeah a big, mean, fur-less one in here having at a computer. Stay away.”
This was not my first outburst at work.
In one tantrum of boss-induced rage, I landed three barefisted blows into a steel elevator wall. I was alone. Or so I thought. When the elevator door opened, the lady who reads my Tuberculosis test every 6 months found me standing there, panting, with two sets of inflamed knuckles. She said “uh… I could hear you out here.” She still got on the elevator with me.
During another impressive display, after another happy meeting with my boss, I made sure to loudly snap open a folded biohazard suit in the airlock adjacent bossman’s office. Taps on the airlock window followed. Who could it be? None other than Tb lady who then said “didn’t you get the email? As of today, you don’t have to wear those anymore”. I snarled back “well, nobody told me!” She replied calmly “I’ll forward it you.”
After my in-office outburst, I decided to take a break. Embarrassed, I timidly crept out when nobody was watching. Rounding the corner, guess who? “Fuckabees” I thought to myself. Tb lady’s path and mine do not cross except for twice-annual test reads and my shit-fits.
I wonder what my future jail cell will look like.
