...oh, this will all end in tears
Oh dear god. There's a wasp in Joyce's office. And the gleefully insane big boss has decided that the wasp is only a dirt dauber and that he can take it down with the lid from a box of copier paper and a can of air freshener.
The big boss even began holding a conversation with the wasp, I might add, which was the point that I cut a look at Joyce and strategically retreated to my office.
Wow. To think that I assumed that the big boss bursting in my office this morning with his customary "Morning, Sunshine!" and, yes, subsequently presenting me imaginary sheets of non-existent ink blots so he could "psychic-analyze" me was as good as the day would get because, handtogod, the man genuinely had no idea what a hysterical pun he was making.
I tremble to think what an attempt to work for an even marginally sane employer again will be like.
The big boss even began holding a conversation with the wasp, I might add, which was the point that I cut a look at Joyce and strategically retreated to my office.
Wow. To think that I assumed that the big boss bursting in my office this morning with his customary "Morning, Sunshine!" and, yes, subsequently presenting me imaginary sheets of non-existent ink blots so he could "psychic-analyze" me was as good as the day would get because, handtogod, the man genuinely had no idea what a hysterical pun he was making.
I tremble to think what an attempt to work for an even marginally sane employer again will be like.