The @-Work Nettwerk
Mundane Tasks and Capitalist Pig-Dog Commands

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copyright 2001 by benjamin wyskida and andrew myatt.

Volume Forty-One: Nobody Wants to Be Lonley

This issue's Golden Cubicle Award goes to Mr. Bradley Sroka, of Annapolis, MD, for his astute Freudian analysis of workplace snack foods: **Sexual Harassment in the Workplace: I'm eating these 'Team' Goldfish, the little cheese crackers, in 'Fun Baseball Shapes.' The packaging reads, Stock the 'dugout' to keep your team 'satisfied' through the seventh inning 'stretch!' It's like when you listen carefully to Steely Dan and realize what their singing about; I'm totally creeped out. **

Just got back from the bathroom. I think it rather festive to have a period on Valentine's Day!

I got offered a job at the Haagen-Daaz across the street from the Louvre today.

The gentleman using the reference room today has a nice ass.

It is true that 1.5% of home accidents are caused by large penis related incidents, only a small number have ever been known to be fatal. A large penis is a friend as well as a foe. Treat it as such. http://www.lpsg.org/

I can't stand it when co-workers talk to me on the elevator. So, as to avoid it this morning, it seemed like a good idea to avoid joining my co-worker on the elevator by pretending to tie my shoe. However, I realized that wasn't a good idea because I could always tie my shoe on the elevator. So, I thought it best to throw up the index finger and sort of beat the forehead w/ the other hand and mumble "shoot" and begin to walk away, like I forgot something, until the elevator shuts, with plans to just get the next one. But, when someone is in the hallway and has seen you do this, whether or not you know them, it is best to keep walking all the way back out the door so as to not look crazy. Once outside, you can mail a letter or get a bagel.

Today I typed the following sentence: "Hill's was the only file that had chickens in a barnyard as subject matter.

We're supposed to pay 30 cents each time we get a cup of coffee from the kitchen here at work. If you don't want to pay but don't want to feel guilty about it, it helps if you just pick up some change already in the cup and drop it back in.

Eight hungry eyes leered at me today as my boss arrived with office supplies for me in the back of her truck, including a brand new HL-1240 brother printer. "get BACK! BACK, i say!"

Professional activities for week of 5-9 February:
1) Black cardigan. . .yup.
2) Managed (almost) to delete entire in-box.
3) Played a mean game of rubber band ball catch with registrar.

A recent work-related bathroom discovery: Charmin’s Ultra toilet paper is an improvement of their regular toilet paper. According to a chart on the product’s packaging, the ‘strength’ of the regular toilet paper is ‘strong’ but ultra is ‘stronger,’ the ‘thickness’ of regular is ‘thick’ but ultra is ‘thicker,’ and the ‘softness’ of regular is ‘soft’ whereas ultra is ‘softer.’ The chart that provides this information only consists of these quoted words. This is obviously a masterpiece of late 20th Century advertising and media.

This guy needs to subscribe to the network: http://cac.psu.edu/~jag164/desk.html

I had to go to a new employee orientation. It was SO boring that on the evaluation I wrote in the comments section "I am fully emotionally prepared to gnaw off one of my own limbs to get out of here as fast as possible." When I turned it in, the guy giving the orientation looked at my evaluation and then looked at me funny. I am mildly concerned that he is going to contact my supervisor about "unprofessional comments."

A coworker, trusting the spellchecker, sent an email that should have read: "Sorry for the inconvenience....". instead read: "Sorry for the incontinence this may have caused you." Then we wondered how many other people have made the same mistake.

www.dumblaws.com

Yesterday I got angry at work and convinced a coworker that it was a good idea to walk to the bar across the street from our Federal building and start drinking. An hour later I sauntered back into the office. My boss found me right away and said she'd been looking for me. She then asked me to look over some things she'd written to nominate me for two national awards.

As I type this, my co-worker Caroline is demonstrating for me all of the various ice skating jumps in ascending levels of difficulty.

I spoke with my boss on a cell phone this morning, and his voice kept mutating into a robot voice, but I watched enough Transformers in my prime to understand what he was saying.

I work for a pharmaceutical company. (Don't worry, tomorrow's my last day.) A big part of what I do involves compiling data about different illnesses our drugs treat and sending them to the field sales reps. Ironically enough, today I was working on a "Smoking Cessation Resource Binder" and it made me want a cigarette. The Migraine studies I did two weeks ago gave me a headache, and the antidepressant market shares graphs really had me down. I'm glad I quit before they got to something really awful...I hear there's a new AIDS drug in the pipeline...

Today I made a mistake that cost us $1,110 and ruined a clients summer conference.

Finally, a note from Sarah, our Paris correspondent:
I'm trying to type on the WORST computer in this entire beautiful high tech internet cafe. Why have I got the worst computer? Because I speak French with an anglophone accent. Because, as happens approximately every other time I come here, the bartender heard the accent rather than what I said, spoke to me in English as if I hadn't just TOLD him I saw the waiting list for computers, and gave me the shitty computer with the anglophone keyboard without asking whether or not I wanted it. And I keep coming back to this place! Tell me why? France is lovely otherwise. Cheers.

Volume Forty Two: Whach You Talkin About, Willis?

Today’s "Golden Cubicle Award" goes to Jenny Jones, of Washington D.C: ** I guess it's probably best NOT to point out to your co-worker that the dress she is wearing today is the exact same one worn by the mannequin at the Rite-Aid next door.**

I stepped out of my car this morning to discover a used condom lying in the gutter. How come no one wants to express their love to ME in the parking lot behind Perkins?

A coworker (who is like my mom's age), in a supremely misguided gesture, tried to set me up with my ex, who also works in this office. Finally, after she had cc-ed us on multiple personal e-mails, I decided to inform her of the delicacy of the situation. "We were involved for several years and it didn't end well." She apologized profusely and then spoke at length about how hot he is

http://jubal.westnet.com/hyperdiscordia/ads/nipple/nipple_surgery_2.html

I just took a message from a lady named Gina Kolata...and now i'm very, very thirsty

I realized all too late today that I should have bought cookies when I was at the CVS this morning. Now I'll have to make a second trip, health be damned.

There was an earthquake today at work. Ok, so it wasn't just at work. It was kind of everywhere. I shared a bolted down table in the center of the vending machine room with a cutie guy (I swear, it was a moment). The building was totally intact, but I did hear that there was a crack in the floor of the 9th level. I'm glad I don't spend much time there.

Today I realized that you send faxes face down, not face up, so nothing I’ve faxed for the last two months of my job has gone through.

I work in a hospital. All day, every day, I read people's diagnoses and it is beginning to make me a little crazy. I am currently convinced that I have breast, lung, skin, and colon cancer, tuberculosis, diabetes, acute renal failure, respritory distress, edema, stenosis, and the name Janet Reno gets stuck in my head all day. I think the only thing I have REALLY caught is hypochondria.

today i am engaged in a rigorous regimen of isometric exercises for the purpose of improving my orgasms...*1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 hold-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10*

My job requires me to carry my office with me and rove from floor to floor in a 17 floor building. Towards the end of the day I am usually pretty tired and I don't want to take the stairs as much. If I'm on the 9th floor and I have to go to the 11th floor, I will hit the up button on the elevator, and if no one is in the elevator when it arrives, I will get in and hit the 11 button, but if someone else IS in there and they'd know I was being lazy, I'll hit the 17th floor button, walk down to the 16th floor, and hit the down button from there so it looks like I'm traveling 5 floors down, which looks less lazy than 3 floors up. Sometimes I will walk down several flights of stairs and hit the up button from there so it also looks like I'm traveling further.

My co-worker just asked if she could borrow a kleenex. I said, "That's okay. You may keep it."

So the structural engineers were called in at work (earthquake blah blah blah) because there's a big crack in the floor on the 5th - 11th floors and the ceiling is sagging on the 7th 8th and 9th. So they masking taped the crack shut. Like THAT's going to do a lot of good. Why don't they just put a band-aid on it? I bet they get paid more than me. Maybe I need to look into a new job. I can put masking tape on cracks in buildings.

Today I walked past one of the assistant director's offices and caught him with his finger in the gold mine. He's a jerk (and dumb) so that fact that he saw me walk by with his finger in his nose fills me with all kinds of glee.

I walk past a mammogram clinic several times a day as it is just down the hall from me. Every time I walk past, I worry that I might have breast cancer and I remember that I really ought to do a self exam. The thing is, I have the urge to do them right on the spot, so I find myself surreptitiously fondling my breasts looking for lumps but also trying not to look like a pervert.

Keri, hungry for both food and nature, opts to take her lunch by the scenic water's edge. She settles herself on a bench, has a tasty sandwich and, as often happens to wayward interns with too much time on their hands, becomes overwhelmed by a desire to sleep. Why not? She thinks, settling her head on top of her faux-leather plastic airline bag for a small snooze in the trendy Georgetown sun. The next thing she knows, a friendly looking man is shaking her shoulder. "here," he says, handing her a small bag of chips. "take these." a bewildered keri takes them, drool from her snooze glowing on her cheeks as she gazes upward at the fatherly figure. "take this too," he says, handing her some change. He smiles down at her sympathetically, then walks on.