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2004-05-24 - 7:52 p.m. Every exit is but an entrance somewhere else Scene from a Farce: Director of Sales: "Would you like some watermelon?" Temp: "No, thank you." Director of Sales: "You don't want any watermelon?" Temp: "No, thank you." Director of Sales: "Oh, come on, have some watermelon." Temp: "No, thanks, I don't want any." Director of Sales: "Here." ::sound effect:: plunk. ::visual::: slab of raw watermelon lies on the desktop-like surface of the temp's cubicle, bleeding juice. Temp: "Thank you." Nothing like taking an innocent piece of fruit and making it into an expression of office politics. What if I'm diabetic? What if I'm allergic to watermelon? What if I'm on one of those fucking "eek-a-carb" diets? None of which, by the way, I am required to disclose to you. What if I just didn't WANT any? Oh - I forgot to read the "check your free will here" sign above the front door again. I keep doing that. By the way - while I'm on the subject. Who decided that this poor unit of nutrition wanted to go by just one name, like Cher or Slash or Flea or Jewel? It has a perfectly good last name. Carb O'Hydrate. But no - declared evil, publicly defamed, and robbed of its name. I think we have a civil rights case here. Oh and speaking of Jewel. Next time remember to hang YOUR sign reading "Thou shalt not enjoy thyself at MY concert except on MY terms, for the world revolveth around ME" over the door, so people are clear on the expectations. Oh, and don't forget to have everyone pass the "Classy Enough To See Me" test before they come in, because we wouldn't want to let any of those disrespectful, might stand-speak-sweat during your performance, riff-raff in, now would we? my mood - |
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