Sigh.
I'm getting tired of this whole working shtick.
We've got a new guy in the office. He's kind of the second in command, but not really (it's long and complicated and boring to explain. Suffice it to say, he's a bit full of himself and his position.) He's been here less than a month and I've already done up the same information for him in six different formats. Phone rosters and personnel information. Really, things do not have to be done in the same exact way as his last unit. Though I'll be fucked if I can figure out why they had the same shit in 6 formats. Not to mention his habit of not giving me the full details of how he wants it until I've finished the first draft. Draft my ass, they could have been final if he'd actually explained what he wanted.
He's an arrogant, self-absorbed prick, too. He's a veritable fucking font of personal advice for me. I mention I've found a listing for a cute little rental house at our next duty station and he advises me to buy. When I explain why we have absolutely no intention of buying, he insists we should do it anyways. Well shit. I must have missed where we signed him up as our financial advisor. My insomnia comes up and he says "All you need is some melatonin." Patronizing shit for brains. I've got a doctor for that. If she with her fancy degrees and experience couldn't fix it, what makes you think some homeopathic over the counter crap is all I need?
He's managed to suck the last bit of fun out of this job. We can't even say fuck anymore because "it might offend someone." He won't even own up to his own prudishness. If you don't want to hear cussing fine, but don't blame it on an invisible "someone."
It's 1047 and I'm already worn out. And should I mention the good ole' boy system?
The Hubbyman thinks I need to tell him to fuck off, and that I should mention somewhere in my rant that he doesn't write my reviews. I've tried to explain that what works for soldiers doesn't really fly in the civilian end of the house, but I've gotta say I'm tempted. Give a big "fuck you, fuck you, not you, you're cool" the day I leave.
'Course I'd never work in the GS system again. But then Hubby's always wanted me to be a housewife anyways.
I'm getting tired of this whole working shtick.
We've got a new guy in the office. He's kind of the second in command, but not really (it's long and complicated and boring to explain. Suffice it to say, he's a bit full of himself and his position.) He's been here less than a month and I've already done up the same information for him in six different formats. Phone rosters and personnel information. Really, things do not have to be done in the same exact way as his last unit. Though I'll be fucked if I can figure out why they had the same shit in 6 formats. Not to mention his habit of not giving me the full details of how he wants it until I've finished the first draft. Draft my ass, they could have been final if he'd actually explained what he wanted.
He's an arrogant, self-absorbed prick, too. He's a veritable fucking font of personal advice for me. I mention I've found a listing for a cute little rental house at our next duty station and he advises me to buy. When I explain why we have absolutely no intention of buying, he insists we should do it anyways. Well shit. I must have missed where we signed him up as our financial advisor. My insomnia comes up and he says "All you need is some melatonin." Patronizing shit for brains. I've got a doctor for that. If she with her fancy degrees and experience couldn't fix it, what makes you think some homeopathic over the counter crap is all I need?
He's managed to suck the last bit of fun out of this job. We can't even say fuck anymore because "it might offend someone." He won't even own up to his own prudishness. If you don't want to hear cussing fine, but don't blame it on an invisible "someone."
It's 1047 and I'm already worn out. And should I mention the good ole' boy system?
The Hubbyman thinks I need to tell him to fuck off, and that I should mention somewhere in my rant that he doesn't write my reviews. I've tried to explain that what works for soldiers doesn't really fly in the civilian end of the house, but I've gotta say I'm tempted. Give a big "fuck you, fuck you, not you, you're cool" the day I leave.
'Course I'd never work in the GS system again. But then Hubby's always wanted me to be a housewife anyways.
5 Comments:
ugh, I've worked with many a guy like that....
That would drive me insane. Especially not being able to swear.
Oh yeah, don't worry about the URGE music thing. The crappy DRM only lets you download, you have to pay to actually burn it.
Here via Blog Explosion.
Hell, if he's that bad, just wait him out....he won't be around long.
Chris
My Blog
Oh well, use the walking encyclopedia that thinks he's a teenager and make sure he sees you do the EXACT opposite of what he tells you to. That should get the message across. Though I do like the "f*ck you, f*ck you, you were cool" idea too. :)
Being a military housewife is GREAT fun. I don't have to worry about who I tell to get bent, fuck off, or pound sand in your ass.... I especially like to give death looks to the little old bitches in the commi-scary who think they own the whole fucking base cause their old man is a high ranking officer.
You could always do nasty things to the little prick in your office- hide an open can of tuna somewhere in his desk or office.... but hide it good.
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