Well, yesterday the Board of Directors informed me that I will be transitioning to a desk job for the next twelve months. Effective immediately.

Total b.s.

I did my sales job. I did it well. But corporate now thinks I’m a liability since I have a hole in my neck and chest. Big whoop.

It was a minor altercation at a bar when I told some lady Jeff Gordon wears girls underwear. Turns out her knife was bigger than mine. And she was a fast broad for being an octogenarian. Like lightening. Like Grandma Panda in the Kung Fu Panda movie. Fast.

No more lifting pigs, pushing cows, slinging meat. They’re afraid I’m gonna pop a stitch and sue them. (They’re right. I was actively trying to make that happen. 😉 )

What they really should have been worrying about is I’ve already BEEN on the inside. It changes you. I’ve seen things. I know things.

I know when the office manager greets you at 8am with the whitest teeth on the planet, while simultaneously judging your Goodwill “work outfit”, that she’ll set my tone for the day.

I know that my computer will freeze and I’ll call IT and the first thing they’ll tell me to do is restart it. Already did that, Jerry. You’re so wise. Is there annnnnything else that could be wrong with this wonder machine that has THREE BILLION BREAKABLE PARTS?

I know that Co-workers will come in from lunch with a Panera broccoli and cheese soup and make the whole floor smell like my dad 15 minutes after he has his morning coffee. Or worse, when Pete’s wife, Carol, makes him eat leftovers because they’re trying to be more frugal and save money for a Sandals vacation and the leftovers are FISH. Thanks Carol. I’ll be sure to throw that microwave off the fifth floor balcony and I plan on bathing in bleach later to get that smell out of my hair. Have fun drinking your Piña Colada.

I know that they will tell me to do my timesheets. But I flunked my creative writing class in school and timesheets are literally the best creative outlet of all time. It’s like you WANT us to lie. To make up imaginary meetings, imaginary conversations, imaginary hours working on imaginary projects. And I spent my bank of creativeness recording a TikTok dance between 9-10am today while eating three leftover donuts I found in the break room from a client meeting. I’m fresh out of dreams, boss. I’ll just have to do two months worth of timesheets in 15 mins tomorrow before the billing department kills me.

The highlight of my day will be talking to the mail lady for houuuursss about nooooooothhing before she realizes she has an actual job to do and leaves me. Bummer.

I’d rather work 24 hr days on the outside then 4 hours on the inside.

I’ll be working hard on recovering and thinking of ways to slip my doctor some ribeyes in hopes he’ll give me an early green light to get back to my outside job.

Until then, pray for me. I have four tiny bosses and it’s hell on earth in this office.