By: Charles B. Morgan IIVice President of Sales for GlobeTech Communications Inc.
To many people, I am many different things. To my wife, I am a loving husband. To my children, I am a supportive father. To my friends, I am a golfing buddy. But these relationships exist outside the office where I spend a majority of my time. The people there would certainly sing a different tune about me. Because on the 15th floor of GlobeTech Communications Inc., I am the fucking man. Everyone else is shit. I am so fucking important.
I get up at 4:30 AM every morning. I get up so early the fucking newspaper hasn't even arrived yet. I get up before the news does. How do you like that shit? And when the paper does come, the paperboy hands it to me personally, because he knows I'm a fucking bad ass who knows the deal. What time do you get up? 7:00 AM? 7:30? That's bullshit. I've been at the office closing deals for at least an hour by the time you're pulling your lazy ass out of bed. Who's the man? You're damn right it's me!
Only bitches take public transportation to work. I pull up into my personal parking spot rolling hard in a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren. My car is worth more than your life, dick! Don't look at my car and don't even think about parking in my spot. Read the fucking sign. "VP of Sales." That's not you. I'd put my foot up your ass, but I wouldn't want to scuff my Tanino Crisci's. And no, you can't get these at JC Penny. Get me my coffee, bitch.
When I get on the elevator, I tell people to get off and wait for the next one. They oblige because they know how much of a fucking gangsta I am. Sometimes a newbie will choose to stay on the elevator. I'll nod politely. But when we part ways, I'll find the newbie's supervisor, have the kid fired, his name smeared, and have his family driven out of town. I've done that all from my Blackberry before. Owned.
My office is the shit! See that portrait behind my desk? That's my fucking face. Can you read the gold plaque there at the bottom? It says "The Fucking Man." Even after I'm dead, this portrait will remain in this office because no one else who steps foot in this room could ever be more important than me.
My desk is solid West Indian mahogany. Straight up. They don't just give these away to anyone. You've got to be super-mega-ultra-fucking important like your's truly. And don't even think about putting your feet on my desk or I will jam my golf putter into your eye socket, gouge out your eyeball, and do 18 holes with it after work. Speaking of golf, I fucking SCORCH the course with my game!
After a luncheon, I never clean up after myself or throw any of my own shit away. I'll leave greasy wrappers, sticky plates, stale coffee cups, and piles of crumbs all over the place. After I eat it, I am no longer responsible. Some other office bitch will come clean it up for me because I'm a fucking slob! I have no sense of consideration or concern for anyone other than myself. You don't need to when you're as fucking important as me. Shit, yeah!
Nice tie. Where'd you purchase it? Your asshole? Do us all a favor and go home and hang yourself with it. Hell yes! I'm amazing!
I use phrases like "Going forward," "Action item," "In the black" and "Right-shoring" because it makes me sound hella fucking awesome! I know all the lingo. If you don't understand it, too bad. That's why you're cleaning up my lunch shit.
Speaking of shit, someone call me a limo. I'm brewing a fucking important dump! I never take a shit in this building. There is no way my ass would touch the same seat as one of these people. I have a private bathroom two blocks from here where only I am allowed to drop a VIP log. And after every shit, I have them replace the toilet. Booyah!
I never smile. I will acknowledge you in one of two ways: a wink or a nod. A wink means I fucking hate you. And nod means I am filled with repugnance and disgust when I see your face. If I like you, you'll have the honor of shaking my hand. But only I may initiate. If you hold out your hand to me, so help me God, I'll have my taxidermist cut off your ass, stuff it, and place it on the wall in my office. If you do shake my hand, you get one pump and one pump only. And if it's not firm, I swear by all things holy that the next thing you'll be shaking is an Arby's cup when you're on the corner asking for change. And when I see you on that corner, I'll extend my hand to you. When you accept, and place your hand in mine, I'll break your fingers and steal your change. Fucker!
When I arrive at my home after work, I kiss my wife, ask her how her day was, and eat dinner. I enjoy a glass of fine wine, and tell her I had a "good day." I sometimes call my children at college and tell them I am proud of them. When I lay down to go to sleep, I think about how blessed I am to have the life and family that I do. After a few moments, I will drift off to sleep and have sweet dreams. . .about how super fucking important I am.
I get up at 4:30 AM every morning. I get up so early the fucking newspaper hasn't even arrived yet. I get up before the news does. How do you like that shit? And when the paper does come, the paperboy hands it to me personally, because he knows I'm a fucking bad ass who knows the deal. What time do you get up? 7:00 AM? 7:30? That's bullshit. I've been at the office closing deals for at least an hour by the time you're pulling your lazy ass out of bed. Who's the man? You're damn right it's me!
Only bitches take public transportation to work. I pull up into my personal parking spot rolling hard in a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren. My car is worth more than your life, dick! Don't look at my car and don't even think about parking in my spot. Read the fucking sign. "VP of Sales." That's not you. I'd put my foot up your ass, but I wouldn't want to scuff my Tanino Crisci's. And no, you can't get these at JC Penny. Get me my coffee, bitch.
When I get on the elevator, I tell people to get off and wait for the next one. They oblige because they know how much of a fucking gangsta I am. Sometimes a newbie will choose to stay on the elevator. I'll nod politely. But when we part ways, I'll find the newbie's supervisor, have the kid fired, his name smeared, and have his family driven out of town. I've done that all from my Blackberry before. Owned.
My office is the shit! See that portrait behind my desk? That's my fucking face. Can you read the gold plaque there at the bottom? It says "The Fucking Man." Even after I'm dead, this portrait will remain in this office because no one else who steps foot in this room could ever be more important than me.
My desk is solid West Indian mahogany. Straight up. They don't just give these away to anyone. You've got to be super-mega-ultra-fucking important like your's truly. And don't even think about putting your feet on my desk or I will jam my golf putter into your eye socket, gouge out your eyeball, and do 18 holes with it after work. Speaking of golf, I fucking SCORCH the course with my game!
After a luncheon, I never clean up after myself or throw any of my own shit away. I'll leave greasy wrappers, sticky plates, stale coffee cups, and piles of crumbs all over the place. After I eat it, I am no longer responsible. Some other office bitch will come clean it up for me because I'm a fucking slob! I have no sense of consideration or concern for anyone other than myself. You don't need to when you're as fucking important as me. Shit, yeah!
Nice tie. Where'd you purchase it? Your asshole? Do us all a favor and go home and hang yourself with it. Hell yes! I'm amazing!
I use phrases like "Going forward," "Action item," "In the black" and "Right-shoring" because it makes me sound hella fucking awesome! I know all the lingo. If you don't understand it, too bad. That's why you're cleaning up my lunch shit.
Speaking of shit, someone call me a limo. I'm brewing a fucking important dump! I never take a shit in this building. There is no way my ass would touch the same seat as one of these people. I have a private bathroom two blocks from here where only I am allowed to drop a VIP log. And after every shit, I have them replace the toilet. Booyah!
I never smile. I will acknowledge you in one of two ways: a wink or a nod. A wink means I fucking hate you. And nod means I am filled with repugnance and disgust when I see your face. If I like you, you'll have the honor of shaking my hand. But only I may initiate. If you hold out your hand to me, so help me God, I'll have my taxidermist cut off your ass, stuff it, and place it on the wall in my office. If you do shake my hand, you get one pump and one pump only. And if it's not firm, I swear by all things holy that the next thing you'll be shaking is an Arby's cup when you're on the corner asking for change. And when I see you on that corner, I'll extend my hand to you. When you accept, and place your hand in mine, I'll break your fingers and steal your change. Fucker!
When I arrive at my home after work, I kiss my wife, ask her how her day was, and eat dinner. I enjoy a glass of fine wine, and tell her I had a "good day." I sometimes call my children at college and tell them I am proud of them. When I lay down to go to sleep, I think about how blessed I am to have the life and family that I do. After a few moments, I will drift off to sleep and have sweet dreams. . .about how super fucking important I am.
2 comments:
L - O - L.
If you do shake my hand, you get one pump and one pump only. And if it's not firm, I swear by all things holy that the next thing you'll be shaking is an Arby's cup when you're on the corner asking for change. And when I see you on that corner, I'll extend my hand to you. When you accept, and place your hand in mine, I'll break your fingers and steal your change. Fucker!
baahahaha
wow. just...WOW.
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