01.08.10

I Hate My Job: A Journal of a Day at the Office

http://nationallampoon.com/articles/i-hate-my-job-a-journal-of-a-day-at-the-office

by Jeff Lutz & O.C. Newby

It starts as soon as I get out of my car and walk by the smokers. Every ten minutes, they're filing in and out of the office for what they like to call a "smoke break.' The only consolation: they probably have lung cancer.

I sit down at my cubicle and look around. I'm like a rat trapped in some kind of experiment. Why three walls? I'm not an actor in a play! I look up. Oh, God. It's the Happy-Go-Lucky Morning Guy. He is ALWAYS in a good mood. "How was your weekend? Are you working hard or hardly working?' he says, laughing at his own joke. Well, I just walked in the door and sat down so what do you think? I can't wait until Happy-Go-Lucky Morning Guy becomes a victim of this competitive environment. We'll see how happy he is then.

The Young Gun struts by and hands me three memos. "This proposal is red hot. Let's hit a home run and expand the pie.' Punk brat. He thinks he knows everything because he went to some fancy school that ends in University. I start typing up a report - Is this project pigs or chickens? - only to be interrupted by Forward Guy. He's going to "shoot' me an email. Please read string below. This guy has more communication with me than my Domestic Dependent Plus One. Chain letters, page-and-a-half-long jokes, wildly inappropriate pictures. Today, it's a video of Spencer Pratt getting f*cked by an emu which he thinks is hilarious!

The Random Intern roller skates in with a huge smile on his face. Forward Guy shouts at him, "You're rockin' and rollin today!' I guess it must be the third Wednesday of the month again. Apparently, he's got flexible hours. He looks high. He always looks high. I wish I was high.

I go back to working on my report. I'm interrupted by Fantasy Sports Guy. He tries to talk me into joining his hockey league. "It's going to be awesome, dude! You don't even have to know anything about hockey.' Yeah, clearly you and I are not on the same page. Like I'm going to sign my life away for the next eight months to follow a bunch of Russians and Slovakians I've never heard of. Besides, I already have way too much on my plate.

Meanwhile, an idiotic cross cube phone conversation has broken out nearby. Let's Get Personal Girl is in crisis mode. She uses her problem solving skills to yack about her current boyfriend's erectile dysfunction (clearly, someone dropped the ball) to The Flirt who is sitting a mere three feet away from her. The Flirt is over forty, career-minded and self-motivated. She is the HR department. She'd be the first person to file a sexual harassment complaint to herself when she tries to rub her tits up against every guy in the office. Talk about putting the cart before the horse. She drones on and on about her kids. She always drones on and on about her kids. "Oh, you're not going to believe what my little Adam did this morning. He made himself his very own bowl of cereal and then ate it with a knife because we didn't have any clean spoons in the house.' I wish she'd take it offline already because I really don't give a f*ck!

The only thing worse than the people who talk about their kids all day are the people who talk about their pets. Crazy Cat Lady, for example, doesn't need a man in her life because she has as she says "eighteen little furry babies to keep her company.' She needs to internalize that sh*t about her best of breed before I push back and throw her under the bus. Crazy Cat Lady SLAMS down on her keyboard. She thinks she is moving forward in a productive manner but to me it's just a big dog and pony show!

Suddenly, the smell of burnt popcorn circles back through the office. Must be time for lunch. I don't understand how someone could make popcorn for years and continue to burn it everyday. Maybe we need to peel the onion on that. Of course, it's the Executive Vice President. What a dumbsh*t! He can't fax, photocopy or tie his own shoe. Seriously, I don't know what he brings to the table. I pull the trigger on lunch and search through the refrigerator for my sandwich. I move moldy bread and several Tupperware containers of three month old pasta. I can't wait until that fat pasta-eating bastard has a heart attack so I can take his office and become a stockholder. I reach to the back of the fridge. Where's my cheese? No sandwich. SONS OF BITCHES! Somebody must've took it and ran with it. No nooners in the conference room today! Why can't they increase the share of their own Goddamn pie?

I go back to my computer. Suddenly, I'm slammed! Two new urgent emails to schedule upcoming emails. Forward Guy forwards me another chain letter. Hey, send this note to a million people and maybe I won't strangle you! I scroll down. A new memo. I go to open it and my computer freezes. Fire-drill! Great. I was on the fast track and now this? I immediately call I.T. Geek to come over. This little nerd gets paid $100,000 a year just to tell you your computer needs to be shut down and restarted. "Put your ankles on my shoulders,' he says. I give him a strange look and get up from my seat. Clearly, he's on top of it. He hits the ground running, fiddles around for three seconds and assures me he has "fixed' the problem. My computer is now SLOWER than ever!

I finally check the memo that was so urgent. "Sorry I didn't get this to you sooner but…' Apparently, I've been requested to attend an office pow-wow A-SAP-tual. The Flirt is turning forty again. But, for free cake and seven minutes away from my cube I'll drink the juice and execute the sh*t out of the "Happy Birthday Song!'

Somehow, the birthday "party' spills over into an impromptu workshop. The Execute Vice President of meetings drones on and on… "There's going to be some organizational changes around here. We need to throw the deck together and leverage our resources so we can continue to add value to this company. We need to think outside the box and keep raising the bar. We're not reinventing the wheel here, people. We're going to be powerpointing a new office culture around here to impact the bottomline. If you have any questions ping me and we can table this issue later at a re-envisioning session…' I'd like to promote synergy by gathering everyone together and collectively beating his head with a baseball bat.

I tend to zone in and out of these things and often find myself singing, "The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire.' I then prioritize my thoughts and go forward with, why can't this roof be on fire? I guess I'm not a team player.

I return to my desk to assess the bandwidth. I need to be ramping right now. I'm finally able to close the loop and do some actual work. I can't wait for this weekend's agenda. I'm really going to make it pop! Only four more Goddamn days to go before I can socialize with the fam. Hopefully, they didn't overshoot the forecast. We're planning on taking the boat out. We are going after the long-tail. leaving work Time is money. I'll stay under budget by going for a jog on the beach with Rufus. Then, I'll echo up the food chain and escalate things by teaching my idiot son Mitchell how to drive without killing anyone. There's no I in team. I look up at the clock. Wow, time flies when you're f*cking miserable! I start to get up from my desk - closing time - only to be harrassed by Crazy Cat Lady. Who put her in charge of office morale? "Oh, is it 11 PM already? Looks like somebody's knocking off early.'

I clock out, pick up my check from the previous week (it's competitive salary) and leave, only to have to repeat this all over again bright and early tomorrow morning. As I step out the door somebody yells, "Remember, Friday is Hawaiian shirt day! Jazz it up!' Jazz it up! Thank God, I don't talk like these people. That would be a real Lose-Lose.