Messy Office


Don’t tell me to keep my office tidier so you feel all smart and sophisticated when you have visitors and friends in the building and nowhere to sit them while you make a coffee.

This is my work space. Every piece of paper on this desk is important. I handle five times as much shit as the rest of you do– you’re semi-retired and only ever come in to stomp around like a pig in shit, anyway, causing nothing but problems and putting important jobs on hold– and I really don’t have the time to pack up all my work, in MY office, every time I leave the room, to make way for you and your pity party.

And another thing– fucking ACKNOWLEDGE the fact that you rinse the fuck out of me for 0.50p more than minimum wage. I earn a fucking FRACTION of what I ought to be paid to manage ALL your companies advertising and social media, but of course, YOU don’t BELIEVE in any of it– this shit I do on the computer all day. I’m sure you’re probably wondering why you pay me at all! You dusty fucking dinosaur. Your business is fucking dying on the ground and here I am furiously trying to breathe life into it, you medieval cock lord.

Get BENT. Or, better yet, get FUCKED and absorb some other poor soul’s life away with your musty, vapid, chrysalis of a body.


posted under Rants
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