Suicidal Ideations

Killer’s last thoughts (almost)

I might have mentioned an irrational dislike I have for a co-worker in the past. As a matter of fact, I might have written an entire post about it.

Tonight I was cornered by the above mentioned irrationally disliked coworker. It was obvious I was not busy, because I was sitting by myself, drinking some fresh brewed 100% Kona coffee (because that’s how I roll), with my feet propped up on the desk. I was contemplating the ease of my work night and enjoying the solitude when she suddenly appeared in front of me in her full manic glory.

Tonight she is wearing a disgustingly tight, sheer white t-shirt, lime green Capri pants, with a matching one inch stripe of lime green eyeliner above her eyes. She is very happy to see me and begins to tell me about how her and her husband just moved their travel trailer to a new mobile home park.

The following is my brain’s internal debate during what was very close to being the last five minutes of my life.

Oh shit! How did I not see her come in? I don’t think there is any way out of here. I could fake a seizure, but I might spill my coffee. This is 100% Kona damn it! I should just leap up and kill her right now. No, that would mean I would spend the rest of my life in prison and be stuck thinking about her forever.

What has she done with her makeup? It looks like the 80’s exploded in her face. This is too much. Screw me running; she is talking about her new trailer park. That makeup plus bragging about your luxurious new trailer park is stereotypical overload. I want to die.

Man, when she laughs it is like my ear drums are being gang raped by an angry group of bikers. I wonder if she would suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder if I pulled out a scalpel and sliced my wrists.

That t-shirt is so damn tight it’s as if she is wearing saran wrap. If I have to look at her boobs much longer I am going to swear off tits forever. There should be laws that if your nipples are lower than your belly button you should have to wear a sweater for the rest of your life. SHIT! I think she just caught me looking at her boobs, and she smiled. Now she is going to think I am ogling her cans. That does it, I have to die now. There is no other choice.

Okay, how can I do it? If I am going to take my own life, it had better be soon, she has not shut up about that damn trailer park. I was bluffing about cutting my wrists. I don’t have a scalpel on me. How about pulling the computer’s network cable up and wrapping it around my throat until I choke violently at her feet?

She’s a nurse damn it! She would probably drop down and revive me with CPR and mouth to mouth. THAT would be the perfect ironic twist to my suicide attempt. I kill myself to escape her, but am brought back to life only to find her lips locked with mine. I have to kill myself in a decisive, no retreat-no surrender type of way.

Okay, I lick my own hand, grab that spoon and cram it full force into the electrical outlet. Beautiful plan, if she tries to save me she will get fried as well. I just hope she doesn’t think I am licking my hand as sexual harassment. I wouldn’t want her suing my family posthumously.

Wait! Her phone is ringing. She has to go to the ER for an emergency. Relief! Reprieve! Rejoice! I am going to call my Mom immediately and tell her I love her. She almost lost a son tonight and she would never have known why. I want to run down the hall cheering like a mad man! Okay, Okay, you can stop licking your hand already; people are starting to stare.

Liz, The Posting Fool

You got two from me yesterday (you're welcome!), but tonight's post is truly all about work and why I especially hate Monday mornings. Read at your own risk.

I have professed many times that I love my job. I'm happy and I'm pretty good at it and if my boss ever ran for King of the World, I would assassinate any competition. He's awesome. I've even been propositioned with alternative careers that paid more, but I didn't even inquire. Why leave paradise? OK, they wouldn't pay THAT much more, but still, more. And, OK, it's not really paradise but it could be. It could be if we would eliminate our Monday morning staff meetings and if I had power to terminate at will.

My office is a motley crew. This has it's pros and cons. Sometimes I want to strangle some of them, but since my boss is not yet running for King of the World, this would not be a wise career move. So, I try really really hard to play nice. Usually. And I understand that not everyone is as articulate as I am and able to process information as quickly as I do so I try to be patient. I'm no genius or anything, but in our shed, I am a sharp tool. Sometimes the dullards forget that sharp tools can be dangerous.

This is why the Monday staff meeting is such a chore for me. People operate in levels and, bless their tiny hearts, some people just aren't at a high enough cognitive level to keep up. They should not be invited to the meeting. This past Monday we had a twenty minute conversation about whether or not we should lock the door that enters our office to keep visitors from gaining entry without knocking. A valid conversation, I guess (I say let 'em in, but that's not the point) that should have taken 3 minutes. It took TWENTY minutes. Of debate. By idiots.

Sometimes weighing pros and cons is an excellent exercise. "Should I buy this house?" "Am I ready to be a pet owner?" "Should I go out with this guy even though he's only 'separated' from his wife?" ALL questions I have weighed the pros and cons of- big questions- all of which I was able to answer in 15 minutes or less. I cannot describe the agony of a belabored conversation about locking a door. Really. Excruciating is not the right word. That's too mild. This conversation probably gave me cancer it was so bad.

So, how do you handle it when work starts to suck.