I have spent the last three weeks trying to get fired. My efforts have been fruitless.
This is my story.
Three weeks ago, The Man summoned me into his office. I had just submitted another report with an abundance of errors. The numbers didn’t match up. I forgot, yet again, to format the columns correctly. He was angry.
“Diana. I have given you so many chances. I really don’t want to do this but if you don’t impress me in the next three weeks, I’m going to have to let you go.”
At first I was like, omg. omg. omg. omg. I’m going to get fired. How will I live? What if this? What if that? omg.
But then I was like, this is awesome. My dream of being unemployed will finally come true! Instead of spending my days carelessly dealing with clients I couldn’t care less about, I could actually be productive. I could do my hair and clean my room in the way it deserves to be cleaned. I can lunch and play tennis. I can write blogs to my hearts desire without looking over my shoulder in fear. Most importantly, I could sleep late and not take that vile F train with those peasants.
Not impressing The Man turned out to be easy. I simply continued doing what I was doing. And some.
I took two vacation days. And two sick days. I came a bit late and left a bit early. I stopped responding to emails. I rolled my eyes when passing people in the hall. I didn’t flush the toilet. I made penis art with my desktop icons. I then saved it to my desktop and called it Diana.
And then came week 3. I emailed The Man to talk.
“So, I was wondering what my status was here?” I asked.
He proceeded to tell me all of the things I was doing wrong. Again. With every fault of mine he mentioned, I nodded my head and said I know. I’m trying my best. It’s just that Excel is not my thing. I can’t help it. It’s just not my thing. I get easily confused.
He noted that he couldn’t believe I just told him “excel was not my thing.”
I noted that I was just being honest. Then I asked if I will have a job next week.
“Yes, you will have a job next week. You will have a review and maybe we’ll send you to Excel training.”
“Right. Thanks. Okay. I’m going to go now. Thanks. Okay. Bye” I said before rushing outside to have a fit. A review? Excel training? Really? REALLY?
What in the fucks name does a chick gotta do to get fired these days? I shall tell you.
PS. Don’t IM me with questions in regards to this topic until I am on my non-work IM. K. Thanks.