Velouria (velouria) wrote,

Putting the fun in funeral.

An uberdouche at work who's always going home puking Big Macs out her nose at 9:00 AM because she had that stomach stapling surgery and refuses to stop eating Big Macs at 9:00 AM, thus leaving me to take her calls all day every day, sent me an abrupt email about the status of something. I replied that it was almost complete, but that I needed her to get the approval back from so and so before it could go through. She then wrote that she "needed me to try and figure it out myself because she was swamped."

I reread it a couple times before getting up and walking over to her cubicle where she was stuffing a Big Mac in her face. I would not beat her about the head with her Big Mac container, I told myself, nor would I splash her in the face with her trough of ice tea. I would merely ask her to forward me the email chain she had with so and so if she was not willing to do it herself, and that's what I did.

"Are you getting an attitude with me?" she whirled around in her chair and bellowed. I couldn't make out the next few things she said and half expected subtitles to appear under her like those of Jaaba the Hut addressing Han Solo. That didn't happen, so I went ahead and volunteered that it was due to her having sent me a rude email seconds ago. She became even more outraged and denied any wrong-doing before turning her back to me and entering into the silent treatment, which is still going on as I write this.

I shrugged and returned to my desk where I immediately began looking for new work within the state. The most promising prospect to come up was the "Bureau of Cemeteries and Funerals." I sincerely hope they hire me. My first order of business will be to personally oversee the throwing of Uberdouche's cadaver over a fence once she's choked on her Big Mac.
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