Friday, January 28, 2011

open letters

Dear Temp Who Sits Behind Me:

I don't mind that you wear headphones while you work; hell, if I didn't have to listen for the phone, I'd wear them too. But please, for the love of sweet fancy Moses, could you NOT sing along?

I mean, really,
The Woman Who Sits in Front of You

Dear Security Guard:

You just saw me swipe my ID badge through the scanner outside, so why the fuck do I need to show it to you as well? I realize that you have to be extra careful with security here, thanks to the other company's need for mad secrecy, but I can't even get in the building without scanning my ID badge! Plus you see me every. Single. Weekday. I promise I'm not trying to be a corporate spy like Julia Roberts in Duplicity.

And you're no Clive Owen,

Dear Newish Supervisor:

Why the EVER LOVIN' FRESH FUCK are you holding your daughter's birthday party HERE next week and not, oh, at Chuck E Cheese or---novel idea alert!---in your own home? Some of my coworkers may thrill to the presence of your two young children and boyfriend. Me? No. I love cake, but not enough to listen to the ear piercing screams of your 5-year-old as she flings wrapping paper and ribbons around the room.

Gonna take an early lunch that day,

Dear Cashier At Bristol Farms:

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for calling me "miss" and not "ma'am".

Big kisses,

Dear Me:

You only have 20 minutes left until you can leave and have a real dinner. For Christ's sake, stay away from that desiccated piece of cake on the treat table! You ain't THAT hungry.

And it's carrot cake anyway,