I Have Something to Say

I’m really not that hard to work with. Granted, I have a hard time showing any emotion or evidence that I’m alive in team meetings, and I generally won’t acknowledge anyone who approaches my desk with paper goods in hand, but other than that I’m a really peachy co-worker.

But everyone says this. Everyone says, “I’m so easy to work with. I don’t see what the problem is, really.” And if you’re saying such a stupid thing you’re most likely the wickedest mucker in the entire office. Thing is, you don’t have to work with or around yourself. So you really have no idea just how despicable you are.

I’m not saying that I’m exempt or that I’m immune from such delusions; what I’m saying, I guess, is that since I lump myself in with all the other miserable corporate wankers who honest-to-God think they cause no pain in the workplace, I get to complain about the whole thing without offering any sort of valuable feedback. Let’s begin.

I hate that the Tech Producer doesn’t know how to use email. He’s the goddamn TECH Producer, for crying out loud. Dude just wanders all over the office, on foot, asking for updates and fixes to bugs only he can replicate. He’s a sweet thing, with an adorable pair of glasses and a smile that says, “Hey! Let’s fix bugs together!” but he needs to learn, and learn quickly, that co-workers don’t need to talk, ever. It’s not like it’s 1993 or anything.

I hate that one of the 10 vice-presidents in this 30-person company wasn’t born with an “indoor” voice, but with a shrill, monotone, speaking-over-a-passing-F16 outdoor voice. And he loves to hear himself speak, even if just to himself. He loves to use authoritative expressions such as “NO! NO! NO! IT’S LIKE THIS!” and “DUDE, NO! YOU SHOOT IT LIKE THIS!” because, well, he’s a VP and must be an authority on something, right? Lately he’s been an authority on patently grotesque facial hair patterns.

I hate that the Enabling Producer enables nothing but my never-ending agony, that she never knows what she wants and so gives directions as vague as, “Mock up something that, you know, says something,” without even telling me what I’m supposed to say something about. And after I mock up something that, you know, really says something, something about nothing because I have no idea what I’m supposed to be saying something about, she freaks out and says, “That’s not saying something. I hired you to say something.”

Lastly, at least for today’s complaints, I hate the way I can’t agree to do anything. And this really must bug my co-workers. It’s a constant throwback to third grade when kids argued until someone lost their breath: “You do it.” “No, you do it.” “No, you do it.” “But it’s your job.” “Who says so?” “Your employment contract says so.” “Your momma says so.” “Shut up.” “No, you shut up.” “No, you shut up.” “Come on, I’ll buy you a burrito.” “I don’t want a burrito.” “Your momma wants a burrito.” And so on, and so on. I’m usually the one left standing.

I could go on, but I think I’ve said something about something.