It's my lunch hour too, asswipes

Okay technically it's only a half hour but i tend to stretch it just a bit, but today the new District Regional Douchebag of something special was down with his underling, who's above my boss, imagine Heat Miser hair from the Rudolph Xmas special, her nickname Truffles, need i explain more... the occasion apparently was to introduce Senor Dbag to the working stiffs, as it goes a "mandatory lunch", it's free and they whip up something a little extra special than what the cafeteria's serving but as they say in 8th grade economics, it's the fucking opportunity costs man, these schmucks taking up an hour and a half of my live spewing gibberish about the Big World Bank Machine and i'm wondering if i should just start picking my nose cuz i DONT GIVE A FUCK, i understand that to everyone else in the room making the big money that they might take the bridge if they lost their job but i just change the fucking light bulbs and the world being an imperfect place until they invent the great everlasting light bulb i should be able to obtain some sort of gainful employment.

Nonetheless i must sit through the meeting and though i don't feign any interest other than to inject words when they can't seem to find the right one i don't pick my nose either, the highlight of the meeting, other than Truffles and the underling giggling their domes like bobbleheads at every piece of dogshit business speak that falls from Senor Dbag's mouth is when the Senor himself states, " Operational excellence is my passion." .... Uh, what? What a horrible fucking life you must lead sir, if you don't mind me saying, this mere phrase agitated me to no end, "Operational excellence is my passion," shit Senor would you like me to load the shotgun for you or give you a tour of the many high bridges we have here in Yinzerland, if he'd said scat-munching, dog walking, model airplane building, cross-dressing, i would of thought the guy a decent human being but "operational excellence" fuck let me tell you i'm getting an erection just thinking about it, in fact next time i pleasure myself i'm gonna say it over and over in my head like a mantra, "operational excellence is my passion all over your face baby" or something like that, everyone should be happy to know that i didn't burst out laughing or punch him in the face thus saving my insurance benefits for me and the imaginary boy, oh but it gets better...div align="justify">Like most meeting at the Big World Bank Machine, where kindergarten management style rules, we went around the table and introduced ourselves, said how long we worked there and what we did, now the fact that i would've liked to say "I'm Henry, i'm the singer, and i've got a 3 1/2.", Then curiously asked who had the 10 1/2 ala Black Flags live album, that would of been as they say priceless, instead though i said that i'm the Kono, Pubmonkey, Postmodern light bulb changer, been here five years and i'm a factotum. The best part of my day is when i use words that drunk guys in bars who've read a little Buk know but the corporate world is at a loss, the blank stares from the Senor MBA and Truffles were worth there weight in gold, then Truffles said "uh, tell him what you do," i replied, "i did in one word," an uncomfortable silence and then Truffles chiming in, "i guess it's my turn then"... a well i guess it fucking is melon-head and does Jimmy Page know you raided his wardrobe, thanks for the free lunch...

After this escapade i would've liked to run off to the bar to wash the whole ridiculous thing from my memory but alas i couldn't so i wandered the hallowed halls, it's when i went to get water that i discovered something even more disturbing... they have these televisions at the BWBM, or Big World Bank Machine, that tell you about great classes to improve your emotional intelligence, conflict resolution skills, basket weaving and fuck all, sometimes they run little home movies from BWBM events but today it took the cake, cuz in honor of Labour Day they had different management types giving sound bites about how much they appreciate you, and fuck i don't know how they found her but they had the lady from Red Dawn doing the voice over while warped patriotic music played in the background which gave it that distinct One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest feel and fuck it if i wasn't feeling a bit Randall Patrick McMurphy at that point, like re-education camp, they silently kept telling you, we like you, work hard, we'll give you free cake three times a year, this is your life, you love it, free cake, word hard for little pay, it's your duty, we appreciate you, we really do, you silly cows,... the fact that i saw people hovering around it watching it like drones scared me even more, i began to wonder if i shouldn't show any emotion so the aliens would think i was one of them but alas i just snickered and walked away, found my little cave where they keep my desk put my feet up and read a book, by a French philosopher no less.