Workplace ennui

I may have posted before that I am feeling slightly less than inspired on the work front. I have my year-end review today, and let me tell you, I am not feeling it. I am not in the mood to evaluate my performance, which, quite frankly, has been lackluster. It’s lackluster because I am not in the mood to add value or partner for excellence or connect insight with results. I am not in the mood to comment on workflow procedure. I am not in the mood to sit in my cubicle and create PowerPoint presentations and conduct a SWOT analysis.

What I am in the mood for:

- Eating
- Putting my feet up
- Reading
- Complaining

If there were a job that involved these four activities, I’d be the fucking CEO.

A sympathetic colleague, who also has the distinct and sinking feeling that she is now a soul-less shell dedicated to generating revenue, asks me periodically about my escape plan. My thoughts on this subject vary, though often involve digging my way out with spork, or hanging myself by my headset. Sometimes, when I sound particularly grim, she sends me a haiku. Here are two from yesterday:


In my cubicle,
Oh a lovely shade of taupe.
This is my life now.

***

Review time is here.
Soak up the business jargon!
May I have more figs?

My morale is so low this year that I am blowing off the firm’s holiday party, which I have previously attended as a major contributor to the roast. The roast is a good-natured excoriation of our firm’s leadership, and it usually involves bad wigs, roller skates, and a genie outfit. We are too fancy for a roast this year, so I am boycotting. I can’t be bothered to come if I’m not allowed to insult people with impunity.

I leave you with a little haiku I penned for our office manager, who received my regrets.

Holiday party.
Get your ‘nog on krazystyles!
You puked on your boss.

Please be advised that I am now only accepting comments in haiku.

P.S. Don’t forget to vote via the Morality Poll to your right. I need you, peoples.


Above thingy by David Shrigley, my hero.