Chad’s Reviews

Seems Inefficient, But If That’s What You’re Into…
The recent restructuring at my company changed more than just the employee list. The efficiency experts who were hired to oversee the restructuring also brought in a bunch of protocols that we never had to abide by in the past that are supposed to make our company more “Green” and more “Carbon Free.” All bullcrap, but I digress.

One of the things they have now made mandatory is separating all kinds of crap into the proper recycling bins. We had recycling bins in the past but never anything this elaborate and no one really cared if you actually tossed your crap in the right bin or not.

But it used to be that there was a bin for paper, and then the second floor kitchen had two bins – one for cans and one for bottles. But if you didn’t work on the second floor, you sure as hell weren’t going to get in a frickin’ elevator just to put your Coke can in a recycling bin so most of that crap just got thrown away. No one cared.

Now we have 7 bins in each kitchen. 3 of them are for different kinds of paper (White Paper, Newspaper and Cardboard-like paper, not cardboard though), 1 is for plastic, 1 is for cans, and 1 is for actual cardboard and 1 is for glass. Completely gay. What’s even more gay is that each kitchen has a monitor, an actual person who has been hired to make sure people get their trash in the right bins. Un-frickin’-believable.

All of that was just back story leading up to what happened today. So I sit down at my desk and just get seriously in the mood for some Loggins’ Dangerzone. I then realize that while I was working on the special project, I moved all of my CD’s and what not to my car. So I go out into the garage to get my disc.

Once I get out there, one of the new guys they hired for facilities is smashing the crap out something on the ground with a frickin’ Ames True Temper 3-Pound Double Faced Sledge Hammer with 16-Inch Hickory Handle #1196300. I don’t say anything to him but I give him kind of a weird look so he goes, “Just compacting the cans.” I go, “What?” And he goes, “I’m compacting the cans for recycling.”

Long story short, I have like a 5 minute conversation with this guy, who’s called Julio, in which he tells me that once a can bin gets full, he has to take it to the garage and “compact” all the cans, then drive them to a recycling center. And his chosen method of compacting them is to sit them on the ground, one by one, and smash them with a frickin’ Ames True Temper 3-Pound Double Faced Sledge Hammer with 16-Inch Hickory Handle #1196300.

When I got back to my desk and popped in my Loggins I thought about writing an e-mail to the efficiency experts asking them how in the hell they approved a Ames True Temper 3-Pound Double Faced Sledge Hammer with 16-Inch Hickory Handle #1196300 for Julio to smash his cans with, but then I was like – Julio seemed seriously into that Ames True Temper 3-Pound Double Faced Sledge Hammer with 16-Inch Hickory Handle #1196300, so screw it.

WTF Is A Chimchar, Douchebag?
Yesterday at around 4:15 I got up from my cube to stretch my legs and check out some of the new chicks that got hired in our restructuring. Even thought that was basically a month ago, my boss sent me to work on this frickin’ special project that had me cut off from the rest of the company.

So I’m walking around and while I’m up, I realize I can’t be completely obvious in the fact that I’m basically just checking out chicks’ cones and asses. So I decide I’ll roll by the second floor kitchen, get something to drink and make it look like that was my purpose all along.

I pass a few skanks I’ve never seen before on my way there who aren’t bad, say hello to them, whatever. Then I get to the kitchen. There’s some douche in there playing a frickin’ gameboy. I’m guessing he’s on his break. This isn’t that weird on the outset. I love video games as much as the next guy, but then the douche jumps up out of his char and goes, “Shiny Chimchar – I got a shiny Chimchar!” Then he looks at me and goes, “You don’t understand, the odds of getting a shiny Pokemon are literally 8000 to 1 and I just got a shiny Chimchar on Pokemon Pearl!”

Wow. So I go, “Who cares?” Then he goes, “Most people wouldn’t understand. I have to go make some phonecalls.” Then he leaves.

So now I’m sitting in my cube wondering a few things:

1. Were the phonecalls he had to make legit business calls or was he calling his douchebag buddies to tell them about his shiny Chimchar?
2. Will I ever have to deal with this guy again? Like is he going to be my boss on the next special project they assign me or some such crap.
3. WTF is a Chimchar?

I think today I’ll probably ask Jean Grummons in HR. I know she didn’t lose her job in the restructuring and that skank seems to be all up in other people’s business all the time. She can at least tell me if this guy has the power to make my life a living hell because I didn’t give his shiny Chimchar the proper respect or some other gay crap.

How Was I Supposed To Know?
Last night I had a date with this chick I met at a friend’s party a last week. She works in accounts at another company that’s pretty similar to my own and we seemed to have a decent amount of crap in common. She also has a sweet pair of cones so I asked her out, she accepted, etc.

So after I gnaw my way through the worst frickin’ chicken marsala I’ve ever had in my life at this craphole called The Eclectic Café in North Hollywood, we go out for a few drinks.

Then after the drinks she’s like, “You wanna come back to my place for some coffee?” I’m like, “Yeah.”

So we get back to her place and she’s like, “Why don’t you sit down on the couch for a second. I’m gonna go to the bathroom and I’ll be right back.” At this point it’s pretty much frickin’ on. So I do a quick breath check and it’s not good. I also have no gum or mints or any of that crap, so I look around and sitting on her coffee table is this little tin of Preggie Pop Drops for Morning Sickness.

I have no real idea what these frickin’ things are until I read on the tin itself where it says, “A delicious and discreet way to fight morning sickness - all day long! Comes in 3 wonderfully sour flavors - raspberry, lemon and tangerine Each container includes about 21 refreshing, soothing drops!”

At this point I have a few thoughts vying for dominance in my skull.

1. If I eat these, will they get ready of my bad breath?
2. If I eat these, will they screw me up with some weird lady hormone that is going to make me deuce my pants immediately or some other bullcrap that will ruin my chances of getting to see this chick’s cones tonight.
3. Is this chick pregnant?

I decide to eat a frickin’ Preggie Pop Drop for Morning Sickness and just roll the dice. As I’m holding the tin and putting one in my mouth, the chick comes out of the bathroom and starts going into hysterics.

She’s like, “Oh my god, your eating my Preggie Pop Drops!” I spit the thing out on her floor because I think, based on her reaction, that these things are like poison to guys or something and I have an hour to live.

She comes over and rips them out of my hand, picks up the one I spit out and puts it back in the tin, puts the lid back on and starts crying.

I have no frickin’ idea what’s going on. Long story short, she keeps on crying and calling me an asshole. But in between all of that she tells me a story that two years ago she was pregnant and she used to take these Preggie Pop Drops for Morning Sickness for her morning sickness. Then she had a miscarriage and she keeps the Preggie Pop Drops for Morning Sickness around because they’re the only she has that reminds her of her the kid she never had.

Needless to say I did not see her cones.

Back To The World Of The Living
Last Friday I finished the “special project” I was assigned to immediately after our company went through this huge upheaval and about 50 percent of the employees got fired or replaced, including my boss.

So this “special project” they had me on was basically scanning in every piece of frickin’ paper in the building and saving those scanned images into a database that no one will ever look at or reference again. And the kicker to all of it is this: we didn’t even get rid of the hard copies. Those files are still there for people to use. And if you frickin’ think that people who are used to using the hard files are ever going to change, then you’re frickin’ out of your mind, I don’t care how highly rated as an efficiency expert you are.

Anyway, this morning was my first morning back at my old desk and not in the little makeshift rolling chair desk they set up for me in the file room.

So I’m sitting there kind of trying to get back into the whole deal when my boss, Les, comes out and is like, “Could I see you in my office for a sec.”

So I follow his in there. At this point I’ve only had a few interactions with the guy (he took my old boss Lonnie’s job in the restructuring), but he’s a serious douche – that much I know. So I have no idea what kind of crapheap he’s going to toss on me when I walk in there. Then when I do get in his office he’s like, “Could you shut the door please?”

Then I’m thinking this frickin’ place kept me around long enough to scan in all their bullshit files and now they’re going to can my ass. I was pretty sure if that was the case, I was going to dive through the window and take frickin’ Les with me.

But he goes, “So, I just wanted to say you did a great job on your first special project and although there are no special projects that suit you right now, I’d like you to know that I’m going to keep you in mind whenever we have one that comes up. But for now, you can just get back into the old routine, pitch in whenever I or anyone else in the department needs help, you know that type of thing.”

It then occurs to me that this douche doesn’t even know what my original job was. So I’m frickin’ on easy street until some other special project comes up.

So I’m sitting there thinking about how I can look busy and do nothing for as long as possible and that’s when I notice it. Les has a briefcase sitting on the floor next to his desk and it’s open a little bit. Sticking out of the top is a frickin’ bottle of ExtenZe-Natural Male Enhancement Formula , 180c (3 Pack). Holy frickin’ crank. This dude is taking penis enhancement pills.

I went back to my desk and tried to look that crap up on the internet, but the site is blocked by our company firewall. I’m sure I’ll be getting an e-mail from HR about visiting adult sites. If I do, I’m just going to tell them I saw the pills in Les’ briefcase and I was concerned that he might be doing drugs so I had to know what they were.

Carl, Seriously Man, C’mon
Friday night, I ended up having to stay late to take care of an “emergency” at work. Since they’ve put me on the special project of scanning in all of the old hard copies of the client files, they’ve had this incompetent douchebag, Greg Hall, doing my old job.

So after a week of him dealing with the electronic client file database, it’s in a frickin’ shambles. On Friday night my new boss, Les, comes into the scanning area, which isn’t even a cubicle – it’s a frickin’ open space by the second floor kitchen – and he’s like, “Tonight at 6, when you’re scanning duties are officially done for the day, would you mind going back to your old desk and helping Greg out with some of the electronic client file database stuff? He seems to be having some trouble.”

I can’t say no or I get fired, so I’m like, “Sure.”

Long story short, Greg has completely screwed the old database. I’m going to have to rebuild it from scratch basically because he’s somehow deleted files, file categories, certain information tags that enable the program I wrote for it to recognize files in different search parameters, etc. The guy has really screwed it up.

So after dealing with that crap for like 10 minutes I was like, “Greg, this is seriously frickin’ screwed up. There’s nothing I can do tonight. We’re going to have to talk to Les on Monday.”

Then Greg’s like, “Les is on a one week vacation starting Monday.”

So I go, “Well next week, just come in and sit at your desk. Don’t log into the database, don’t mess with anything. We’ll take care of it when he comes back.”

And that’s where we left it. So all of that is to illustrate that Friday frickin’ sucked.

So I come home and there’s a note on my bedroom door from my roommate, Carl.

It reads, “Hey dude, I’m going down the street to Nolan’s. There will be sluts. Come.”

I had such a frickin’ horrendous day I was like – what the hell.

So I roll down to Nolan’s and I see a few things:

1. There are skanks. I don’t know if they’re sluts by just looking at them, but they are skanks.
2. Carl is repelling them like oil to water.

He walks up to me and I’m like, “Don’t let the skanks see that you know me. You’re blowing my chances.”

He’s like, “What? Why?”

I’m like, “Maybe it’s because you’re wearing a frickin’ Columbia Speed Thrills Down Vest - Men’s with no shirt on underneath.”

Carl goes, “Yeah, dude, it’s cool. Chicks love this thing.”

I’m like, “Is that why they’re avoiding you like the plague?”

He goes, “Just give it some time.”

Then like two or three hours later I’m talking to this skank who’s going on and on about how much she wants to get out of the “service Industry” and become an artist. I figure I’ve put in enough work to at least get her number, possibly even get her to invite me back to her apartment.

Then Carl rolls up, completely hammered in his frickin’ Columbia Speed Thrills Down Vest - Men’s and he’s like, “What’s up? Check out my vest.”

And she’s like, “Do you know this guy?”

I’m like, “Yeah, he’s my roommate.”

Then this skank literally goes, “Nice vest,” and frickin’ walks off never to be seen again. I hope she never leaves the service industry.

That night at home I was prepared to have a serious conversation with Carl about him always ruining crap, but I was about to piss my pants when we walked in the door and by the time I came out of the bathroom he was passed out on the couch wearing only his Columbia Speed Thrills Down Vest - Men’s – no pants.