Training sessions suck.
What a shitty day. We had a piss boring training session today at work. All day. I mean it’s not like we have any real work to do….
In this training session was the usual assortment of morons. Sir Not Appearing In This Film put in a surprise appearance, and Mr I’m So Important set a new record for his own dickheadedness. The training session started at 9:30am this morning and at 9:39am he was fast asleep. Sure he is 44 and fat (even though he’s always telling us how fit he is and how each weekend he does a 10 hour, 100,000km walk and then goes and works out in the gym so he is super fit) but for fuck's sake – 9 minutes? But I suppose the 9 minutes the trainer got out of him is about six times more than any woman horny, drunk, and desperate enough to sleep with him will get from him. Dipshit.
New rule – if you fall asleep in a morning (afternoons are an entirely different story) training session or meeting or seminar less than one hour after the start you are to be executed.
After sitting through about three and half hours of acronyms and being told that the information in our systems is four years out of date (which is actually pretty good when you consider the fact that the policies that govern our IT systems are about forty years out of date) I’d had enough so got up, walked over and headbutted the trainer, and left.
I decided to take a walk around the grid of four streets we call our city. It was a beautiful stinking hot 37 degree day outside and all the pussies and wimps were crying “It’s too hot”. Fucking chickenshits.
Another new rule - if you bitch about it being too hot in November you are to be beaten and kicked out of the country because you are too much of a pussy to handle real Australian summers and we have enough whingers as it is.
I am walking down the street when I am assaulted by an econazi trying to steal my money for Greenpeace. BAM! Forearm to the face. Econazi goes down! To add insult I used his neck as a stepping board as I walked over him and continued on down the street.
Next I come across some hippies no doubt supporting some terrorist group or other traitorous cause – I don’t know which – not that it matters. They had some puppet type thing made of wood and straw they were using to make a point so I grabbed it and booted it into the path of an oncoming bus. Wood and straw and shit went everywhere and the entire crowed cheered and clapped in delight while the hippies shrieked and cried now that their public display of support for terrorists had been stopped.
Beating econazis and tormenting hippies is hot work so I decided to go for a stroll through an air conditioned department store. To get to the games and dvd section I had to walk past the Santa display with all the smelly little brats going “I want this and I want that even though what I need is a good smack from my lazy ass parents” when one of Santa’s elves caught my eye.
Long, flowing red hair, piercing green eyes, a dancer’s body with long, long legs, firm breasts and a marble face that Aphrodite herself would be envious of.
So I turn on the charm and start chatting to her. I ask how things are going and she says “Terrible. I hate having all these little shits around and that Santa pervert keeps groping my ass every opportunity he gets. Christmas sucks.”
I go into a rant about how I agree that Christmas sucks, essentially reciting my two articles to her, when her electric green eyes light up.
“You’ve read those articles too? I love that website”
“Well sweetie – you are in for a treat. I didn’t just read those articles – I wrote those articles. Tiberius at your service.”
“Oh my god! I am such a fan. I read all your articles every night before I go to bed so I can drift off to sleep with your words in my mind.”
“Well thanks. It is always nice to hear from a fan…”
“A fan? I don’t want to be just a fan. I want to be your personal groupie and sex slave. I want you right now!” and she grabs my arm and pulls me into Santa’s house. “Cover for me,” she says to one of Santa’s other elves as she shuts and locks the door.
She throws me to the ground and starts unbuttoning her top and says “Let’s break for lunch and be back in an hour at 2pm.”
Oh god damn it. It was just a daydream and I was still being bored to the death with acronyms in the training room. Then I had a thought – what if it wasn’t a daydream but a premonition?
I race out of the office and tear down the street towards the department store. There were some econazis begging for money. I couldn’t be sure they were from Greenpeace but I thought I had better clothesline them as I ran past anyway.
I didn’t want to have to fight my way through the crowd of hippies so I took an alternative route to the department store. I run to Santa’s house and…… no gorgeous redhead.
I was so pissed off that I climbed up on the roof of Santa's house and dropped the big elbow on him, Macho Man Randy Savage style. Ooooh yeeeah!
All the tough, smart little kids clapped and cheered while all the stupid pussy crybaby little kids cried. After that I decided to blow off training for the rest of the day and went home to drink beer and play Half Life 2.
True story.
© by Tiberius Alatheus 2004