nin137

Nick's Journal
2006-06-22 00:35:40 (UTC)

The Corporation

so today i had the pleasure of driving my boss's car to one
of our client's offices to get some signature pages signed.
now...i work in a small law office, we all know each other,
and we are not very politically correct.
we crack crude jokes and just generally...well, i guess like
each other. it's really weird, because when you go to a
client of ours (a large developer) you get the first dose of
a large corporation.
now, i've never worked for a large corporation, i really
don't know what goes on in such places. but boy did i get a
fucking dose of it today.
i walk up to the front desk of a big corporate office. the
lady there is chatting with an overweight lady who is
leaning over the her desk and her caboose taking care of any
chance i have of making room for myself.
"excuse me, i'm here to see j."
"do you have an appointment?"
"yes 2"
"ok, one sec."
so she got up and walked away, now me being an idiot i
walked right after her. she quickly whirled around and put
her hand out in the stop gesture.
"whoa, you have to wait here sir, only employees beyond this
point!"
what point? it was the same fucking hallway i came up in!
so i waited in the 'waiting area'. i picked up the
corporate newsletter.
jesus christ.
the newsletter was replete with all of these 'look who just
had a child' or 'look who just got a meaningless award'
articles, with the void in between filled with dr. seuss
rhymes and pictures of their latest corporate gatherings,
which all seemed ot involve a fucking dunking tank and
dressing up like a jack-ass.
one guy one an award for '20 years of service' his name was
assif.
and i wondered, as i flipped through the banal newsletter,
as to whether or not assif hung his decorum up in his home
or his office.
i didn't have much time to wonder as mr j. came to pump my
hand enthusiastically and grant me access to the 'forbidden'
hallway.
we walked by this room where a black woman and a severly
obese white woman were good-naturedly arguing.
"don't you telllllllll me what to put in mah brownies, i got
the best darhn brownies on deh planet!"
"now look deeee, i just want to say you put a stick o' butta
in them then they gonna come out smoother than pigs skin."
"pigs got warts."
at this they both cackled.
at this mr j. popped in his head and said in the same
good-natured tune.
"nooooow, am i going to have to separate you too?" in a
dorky fucking white guy voice.
"now, deeee, i tell you everywhere you go..."
"you ain't gotsta tell me, i know, lordy i know, trouble
follows!"
and at this they cackled some more and i moved on to mr j.'s
office.
"ummm, you have to sign for the consents to service of process"
"ok, now where do i sign".
there was a big fucking 'sign here' post it note on the
document...
"uh, right here."
"okie dokie, there you...hey wait a minute. do you want a
brownie?"
"ummm, i have to get...."
"i know samantha talks up a storm about her baked goods, but
they are truly worth the hype." and with a wink, "come
on...let's try one."
so i unwillingly followed the duffus to the god-damned room
in which the two were still going at it like two drunk
crack-addicts fighting for the last crack
rock....good-naturedly mind you.
"how you like that?"
samantha asked as i bit into her brownie. jesus christ it
tasted like fucking butter, i might as well just like a
mexicans back.
"great."
"oooooooooooooo, i knew it. i knew it!"
and at this the good-natured ribbing started yet again.
ugh, that brownie was so disgusting.
it literally slivered down my esophagus.
anyhow, i boogied out of there but not before the fucking
editor of the newsletter confronted me. she was one of
those perky girls who gets excited if there's a new box of
tissues in the office.
she had her hair in pig-tails and started jabbering on to me
as i waited for the elevator.
"you know i don't usually wear my hair like this." as if
this were the greatest secret ever.
and with a dramatic pause.
"i'm cindy-lou for tonight's theme party she gushed gleefully."
get
me
the
fuck
out.