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1:08 pm | 04 May 2004 | OFFICESPACE

It is 11:21 and already i have said the following in regards to my new job:

"Yeah, well she's not here anymore, and her system was retarded anyway."
"There's a new sheriff in town."
"Um, i don't know why this is set up this way, but you'd have to be an autistic savant to figure it out."
"Why are there three folders named Price Matrix and one named Price Matrices containing, in total, seven files called Prices, none of which are accurate?"
"Hey guys, there's an 'a' in Ocean--no, no, 'Ocen' is wrong, all 27 times it's typed that way--no, i'll reupload that, don't worry about it."
"Well, it's because i'm reprazentin' the LBC now, dawg."

Oh, complaining, how doth i love thee? Let me count the ways. But before i do, can i just reiterate to the, like, three people in my 'audience' who miss the point so obviously and overtly present: This. Is. A. Website. It's not strictly humourous, but i enjoy me some of that bitching, moaning, complaining, poking fun at, making fun of, mocking, hurling epithets at, thinking up insulting nicknames for, imitating, bemoaning, and otherwise harassing many of my life's elements, including my new job, which is totally great but is still a job, and as such needs to be talked smack about. WITH THAT IN MIND:

Okay so part of my Herculean task is reforming the entire workflow and submission process here. And the girl who was here before me is about as efficient and logical as that Play-Doh McDonald's playset*. And the one who was here before her not only kept about 80% of the pertinent information in her head and then quit pretty suddenly, but the stuff she did do is straight-up IMBECILIC, due in large part to her apparent hatred of sub-folders but also to her love of naming files, like, "Fernando the Craw Keyw REDO.xls." Or, like, "FamousPeople RawCano subs?.doc." And I know, or can deduce, what it means, but that takes waaaaay too much time and energy. I'm efficient as a direct result of being subhumanly, literally-like-a-sloth-and-i-mean-the-jungle-critter, blood-pressure-of-eight-over-ten lazy. But seriously, folks. Seriously. More later. clm.

* Okay, like, what? Dear Hasbro, the kids already love to munch upon your flesh-salty, enticingly-coloured "Doh." You don't need to further the attraction by offering tools with which to form it into "delicious" fast food.

Although Play-Doh sushi would be really pretty. Oh there goes my weekend.

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