You’ve been there….. sitting in a stifling conference room, the smell of slightly burnt coffee in the air, waiting for an an hour long meeting to begin of which you will only be contributing 45 seconds to. This corporate inevitability my friends shares company with the likes of Abu Ghraid, Guantanamo Bay, and Auschwitz. As if this office gas chamber wasn’t bad enough already you have the pleasure of contending with these people:
The Douche: Yea I get it, you have an opinion, but that BA you received in International Politics w/ a minor in Economics doesn’t qualify you to comment on every action item in the agenda. Take a lesson from your freshman seminar on Islamic politics and strap a bomb to your chest, then quietly detonate it in the parking lot (away from my car thank you very much).
The Cunt: Did you feel that? The sudden shift in gravity as the chick from accounting starts speaking and the universe slowly begins to revolve around her. I’m not sure if its the condescending tone or the stale smell of Elizabeth Taylor White Diamonds that makes me want to pick up the star fish shaped conference phone and dent her wind pipe.
Clueless: “Excuse me, can we go back two slides? I think I missed something.” How bout I place a spiky river parasite in your urethra? That would probably match the irritation coursing through my veins from the additional 3 minutes of my life you’ve taken.
Old: These people have their place, but sitting in a meeting getting all nostalgic about how things were done 20 years ago isn’t one of them. Loosen your depends old man because I’m about to drop a knowledge bomb that’ll make you shit your pants. Your younger co workers can see this trip down memory lane 3 slides away and pull up Twitter, perched for those few words which will allow them to own you in a 140 characters or less.