YTAH's Weblog


Workplace Rampages for Dummies: Help Yourself to a Better Killing Spree

Posted in rants,work by YTAH on February 27, 2008
Tags: , ,

So okay. Maybe I’ve been a bit hard on everyone. I mean, why can’t we just be nicer to each other? Why all this aggression? Wouldn’t the whole world be a better place if we could just love one another, forgive each other our faults, and embrace one another’s foibles? Shouldn’t we learn from our mistakes, and the lessons that our inner children have to teach us? Why don’t we embrace the cheerful, innocent wonder of fairy tales, and animated movies where marvellously jolly animals, teapots, and other fabulous anthropomorphic critters of diminishing metaphysical probability sing sentimental ditties about moonlight, love, and magic? Wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t have to worry with all this finance nonsense, and if we removed any need for office conflict by simply doing away with offices altogether? Why don’t we forgive, forget, live, and learn, and create for ourselves a wondrous fairytale land of love? Why do we always need to think about the miseries around us? Why can’t we just free ourselves from such negativity and celebrate instead the wonders of life? For example, why don’t we leave this whole “money” business and just pay people in, well, hugs?

Why? Because if anyone even tried that with me, I’d fucking kill them. That shit won’t fly. It won’t fly when it’s coming from the mouths of an animated pig, or the pages of a self-help manual, or the putrescent lips of that motivational speaker who monopolized my time and obfuscated my mind with his rancid rumblings of acceptance, tolerance, and 5 steps to everything you want. All I want, gentle reader, is to spend the next few years carving my responses into their craven flesh. Which is why I now have to turn my attention from you and address the one responsible for our current situation.


The doctor is in.

Manage this, you fucking whore. Yes you, you corporate-ladder-ascending scab, you cheap capitalist whore, you: I’m talking to you, you rancid hunk of demonic excrescence. Soon my rant will be over, and then this cutthroat razor is gonna do the rest of my talking for me. But for the moment, while you’re sitting there in that stylish corporate swivel chair, you’re gonna be listening to my grievances. Don’t worry, those ropes digging into your svelte 250kg frame won’t damage that cheap suit too much, and if it cuts off your circulation, well, it’s not like you’re going to need any of your limbs again. Because once I’ve completed your free once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity make-over, all those vital body parts will be scattered to the four winds courtesy of drug-addled bergies pushing stolen shopping trolleys in any direction that takes their alcoholic fancy. Maybe one day your kids will be able to put the jigsaw puzzle back together again, but I hope not: seeing the signs of violence on your person would probably give them nightmares. And we wouldn’t want that. After all, it’s not their fault that their parent is a cunt.

See, thanks to you, I’ve been expanding my skillset. What, you think I never paid attention during those interminable seminars? Why of course I did. Oh, did I ever. Why, I spent the entire time, sitting there quietly in the back, drawing what to the untrained eye would appear to be absent-minded doodles but which, to one more attuned to the nuances of life, would reveal itself to be a complicated and – if I say so myself – rather well-designed schematic of our office building and the most secure route to our current venue – ah-ah-ah, now that would be telling. And thanks to those interminable self-actualization gurus you forced down my throat, I wholeheartedly embraced the concept of life-long learning. In fact that is why, for the past few years, I have been enrolled in night school; that is why I have spent every free moment putting all that I’ve learnt into practice. And soon I hope to reap the benefit of all those extra hours of effort, so diligently invested in studying the finer nuances of surgery without anaesthesia, in my attempt to reshape you into your ideal form – one which will hopefully be a truer reflection of your natural state. So I sincerely hope that you will take this in the spirit in which it is meant, and that you’ll appreciate all the finer nuances of your once-in-a-lifetime re-imaging.

Don’t worry, I have remembered some what your self-help guru told us, before I tied him down and sliced out his tongue. And I have taken it to heart. His heart, of course, but still – it touched me as well. Deeply, spiritually, metaphorically. I have embraced the wonders of a fairyland all of my own, and it occurred to me that you probably hadn’t read too many fairytales. Or, at least, that you were only familiar with the expurgated versions. But I remember different ones. One in particular, to be exact. You know the fairy tale I’m thinking of? Snow White. With dwarves who don’t sing, who don’t have preposterously cutesy names, who resemble nothing so much as lecherous old men. The one where the prince finds out that it was the evil queen who poisoned his beloved. And then makes her dance in shoes of iron. After they’ve been warmed to a perfectly cheerful 180ºC.

Heart-warming, isn’t it. Oh, sorry, that’s for later. Now, I need to go out for a little while, but don’t worry, dear – I’ll be back in a few hours, once the swelling’s gone down. Toodles. ☺

Yours truly, asshole

[Originally posted on http://www.africans.co.za, on Tuesday, February 05, 2008.]

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