Dear Anonymous:
I seriously think you need to look at your birth certificate. I am pretty sure you are not 5 years old. I'm pretty sure that you are a 50-year-old man throwing mini temper tantrums because you are not getting your fucking way.
First of all, you work in an office environment - with SIXTY other people. You share an office with two extremely considerate, and good looking (hahaha, me :P), ladies. Would you enjoy it if suddenly we decided to listen to our music so loud that you couldn't hear the other person in the office or on the phone? I highly doubt it. We have our music low enough that only we can hear it. Because we are COURTEOUS. And because we work in an office. Not in a fucking bar.
I'm sorry that I didn't have time to make your damn phone calls for you. Wait, no I'm not. I'm not sorry at all. I was busy. I was alone. My partner-in-crime was away, so I was doing all the work in our department. So screw you. You can be pissy at me the way my child gets pissy at me when I won't let him watch TV. Go ahead. Fucking man child.
Go ahead and slam your door. Whatever. Grrrr. I just... I thought you were actually a decent human being. It turns out you have some major fucking growing up to do.
Do your own damn work - turn your music down - don't talk so DAMN loud on the phone - and get your ass off of your $500 chair that the non-profit organization paid for and do some of your own work instead of pawning it off on everyone else.
I can't wait. Two more months, we will have our own office, and we won't have to put up with your immature shit anymore. Someone else can deal with it.
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