Fear and Loathing of Follow Through Farts


The funny thing about work is how backstabby it can be. Many of the people I’ve worked with, when I first met them, their first move was to have a whinge about a colleague. The first thing I think when someone does that is “Whoa! This person’s brain must be the size of a teacup!” Then I think “Guaranteed, this person will be bitching about me eventually. If not in the very next conversation they have with someone else who would also prefer to gossip instead of doing what they’re paid to.” Then I think “This is fucking boring.”

I once witnessed a blow up between someone I worked near, but not closely with and another I worked not near, but more closely with. Directly after their argument the latter engaged me in trying to criticise the former. I interrupted him by rhetorically saying “We’re having a good day aren’t we?” Which didn’t really make sense, but I just wanted to shut the miserable bastard up before I had to hear another word of his hissy fit. Obviously I understand his political reasons for not wanting to go to the boss(eseseseseses) about it (assuming he didn’t), but I’m not sure what he expected me to do about someone I avoided dealing with as often as possible because of his barely restrained anger problems.

It’s shit, really. And I mean almost literally. The bosses dump it on each other down the chain of command. Colleagues throw it back and forth between each other. Subordinates throw it back up to their boss, but only through people they’re sure will hold on to the shit and not pass it on. The floors are thick with it. The roof is dripping with it. The walls are smeared with it like reeking brown adult-sized finger paintings. It’s all over every employee to varying degrees, and you can see it weighing down those excessively burdened with it. While some so afflicted carry it with a smile of masochistic pride.

And it stinks. So badly I can’t help but unwillingly mingle my regurgitation with it.

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