Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


An Open Letter

Dear you know who you are,

When I've reminded you no fewer than 18 times about a meeting on Tuesday with G. Monkey and I at 5:00, and have confirmed that being there at 5:00 was not going to be a problem for you, don't call me at 3:30 to change the time. I scheduled this meeting at 5 for a reason, because believe it or not, I actually do have a life outside work. And G. Monkey had another job to work on that night.

When you called in a tizzy, I offered to email you copies of the postcard we were going to discuss this evening, and to reschedule to discuss everything else Thursday night. This wasn't good enough. So G. Monkey and I put our plans on hold for you. The least you could do was not show up to this meeting fucking high on strattera, or crack or whatever.

I know that you're under a lot of stress. Last year's heart attack proves it. It can't be easy running after 3 kids, all of whom are active in sports, clubs, and other activities, and try to get a new business off the ground. But you know what? That's not. My. Problem. Because I have tried to take the load off you, and you will. Not. Help Me. So now you can kiss my ass. If you don't give me the info I need, I'm playing fucking tetris all day.

And when you come in to a meeting loud, demanding a "Shot and a beer", and being completely hyperactive and spouting gibberish, despite the fact that it's a meeting in a good friend's home, it's mortifying. I may know you're insane, but everyone else didn't need to. And when you call contacts at another nonprofit and leave them a message that goes like this:"Hi Lisa, It's Boss. Ummm... Boss Lady...... Call me back! It's reallyreallyimportant that you call me backrightnow!......... The number here is ......... G monkey what's the number?.... ###.... what? ####... it's Bosslady................ Callmebackokit'sreallyimportant... ##...whereareweagain? ####. " and you do it all in your "outside voice", it's embarassing.

Also, when I tell you in the appointment on your palm not to wear anything fur, because it will freak G. Monkey's dog out, like the last time you showed up. That does not mean "Wear your sable, because it's fun to make the doggy bark". It means "leave that shit in the car" you stupid twat.

And when you pointedly ignore me, and will not let me complete a sentence, I want to strangle you. I may not have designed last year's packet, but I can come up with a tagline, and I sure as hell know what looks good. I spent three hours of my time at this meeting, which shouldn't have lasted longer than an hour. You wouldnt' take the hint when none of us said we wanted to order food, because we wanted you to LEAVE already. Your behavior was atrocious, even the most hyperactive 4 year old with an elephant-dick sized pixie stick and an iv drip of pure corn syrup would have been better behaved.

In short, don't fucking do that shit again.


Special Sauce

PS- Where's my health insurance, so I can get the fun drugs like YOU have?

PPS- if I have to quit this job, because you're on crack, and I have to wait another three months for health insurance somewhere else, I am going to be livid. I have 2 maxalts left. That will MAYBE last me another month, and my Rx is expired. I know it doesn't matter to you, because you're richer than Elvis, and can go to the doctor whenever you please, but we "little people" can't do shit like that.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home