For those of you not initiated to the real world yet, the passage of time becomes quite extensive. Wake Up, Work, have zero sex just to wake up to do it all over again. Time is a flat fucking circle. That being said, I often fathom new ways to squander company time. At the bare minimum, I deteriorate at least an hour off the work clock per day through the use of bowel movements, diversions with co workers and devising schemes against Martha the office administrator. Speak of the devil, Martha continues her stingy Gestapo tactics in spending the miniscule amount of money on office supplies. ¼ ply toilet paper, no snacks, working with the light off to save on power. The women’s comparable to Mussolini. However, I’ll digress. While finishing up my morning deuce, I go to cleanse my hands with the low-grade soap Martha has purchased. As I squirt the bubbly fluid onto my hands, something doesn’t feel right. Instead of a pleasant thick soapy like substance geling perfectly in my hands, a dampened down watery texture overcomes me. A deep chill goes up my spine. Naturally, I investigate into this matter as I have nothing better to do. Trekking down bathroom to bathroom, I run trial and experiments on each soap dispenser. In utter dismay, my worst nightmare has come true. Someone (Martha) has been filling half empty soap dispensers with water instead of buying new soap. Of all the money-grubbing ways to salvage office expenses, you cut back on soap. Fucking soap Martha!? The one antidote in this office that literally keeps human feces from spreading like the wild outbreak of HIV in the mid 80’s. before we know it, the whole damn office will have pink eye. This is a minute step in her overall plan; complete office sovereignty. I’m fucking on to you Martha.
Categories: Cubicle Chatter