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P is for Patronizing

<Last week>



McHuh: Ummmm-like, I feel like maybe you’re frustrated.




McHuh: Wellll, let’s like, have a meeting about your feelings.





<the next day>

McHuh: So like, are you like, frustrated-like?

Me: Bingo!

McHuh: So like, yesterday, one of the things you said was that you tell me things and you don’t know where they go. And then you made crazy bird hands. Why?

Me: You mean this?

tumblr_mn4tgjFk0g1r7hx1ao1_400In response to you asking me why I don’t ‘tell you things’, what I said was, “I tell you things all of the time. You furiously write them down. I’m not sure where it goes after that.”

McHuh: I don’t understand what you mean.

Me: I know.


McHuh: Mkay-like, sooo.. also, I really want you to take the lead on such and such.

Me: I take as much as a lead as you let me.

McHuh: I don’t understand what you mean.

Me: You give me the impression I have the ‘lead’ and then breathe over my shoulder, tell my how I should be doing a job that you have no experience in, and then make me change everything to what you want, even if it goes against best practice, with no respect for my timelines or the work effort involved.



<today’s example>

Me: I’m going meet with so and so artist tomorrow to discuss this, this, and this. I need this, this, and this from you.

McHuh: Zomg! I can’t be there to hover over your shoulder so I can see every little thing you’re doing?! In that case, here is what I want you to say word for word.

Make sure you say all of the things.


Make sure you do this, this and this. Make sure you also do this, this and this. Oh and make sure you say this, this, and this. Oh and this. Wait… like, say this too. Mkay, also say this, this and this.

  • Wait, let me send you a bulleted list
  • of exactly what
  • you are to say and do.
  • After you read
  • that bulleted list,
  • I want to meet
  • with you
  • so you can
  • repeat
  • the bulleted
  • list back
  • to me.

Me:  I wasn’t born yesterday, nor am I five fucking years old. Is this your idea of letting me take the lead?  I can handle it, thanks.




  • Soo-like?
  • What are
  • you going to say tomorrow?
  • Do you need
  • me
  • to help you
  • remember?
  • Can you repeat
  • the list back to me?





Here’s some fucking wisdom for you / Factual Fact

One thing to look forward to when an all-day planning meeting is in your future….



If I have to sit in the same chair for 7.5 hours discussing the values and feelings of my future year, while continuously making this face (seriously it’s hard for 7.5 hours):

images (19)

….at the very least, provide me with a soggy veggie wrap, friend.

If I have to listen to the word BOLTH 67 times in the same day, hand me one of those over-ripe melon slices, yo.

If I have to wonder if that bug crawling across the table actually came out of that nest hair of the teeth sucker, throw over that warm yogurt cup, buddy!

If I have to hold hands and sing kumbaya with my group like a fucking kindergarten student, goddamn pass me that severely bruised banana, pal!

Quote(s) of the day:

Dear staff:


Oh? Picnic? That sounds… cold?


Hmmm… This sounds like it’s going down the hand-holding path. p4Because we have a choice?

p3This is suspicious. Our last opportunity to eat and engage included and agenda of exactly how we will be eating and engaging.

It’s 12:13, put that sammich down!! You are done. Time to have a conversation with someone who you aren’t sitting beside. And it better be meaningful, dammit!

p5Oh wow. Don’t hold back. 30 whole minutes?! How noble of you.


Bhahahaha!  Mkay. So really what you mean to say is this:

Hi. We are having a day-long meeting about your feelings and how that will play out in the next year. Since we don’t want to provide you with food, we are going to call it a ‘picnic’ and have you bring your own food as per every other single day, because fuck you, what am I? Your mother? Right. So, bring your own grub, sit at the meeting table (in groups of five), hold hands and talk about how hand holding can increase productivity, produce a skit about it, present that skit and you better goddamn smile while you do, then we all finish with a group number of Kumbaya and you bet your ass you’re going to sing, oh and at some point I guess take a bite of food. You have 30 minutes. And GO!


tumblr_mplf6zJ7Af1qa8mq1o2_250tumblr_mplf6zJ7Af1qa8mq1o4_250tumblr_mplf6zJ7Af1qa8mq1o3_250Etc, etc.

I’m not seeing an option to unzip.

Quote of the fucking day.

McHuh: Ummmm sooooo-like.  I can’t get the file to play in any of my browsers. Mchelp.

Me: Did you extract the files? You know, unzip the zipped folder?


images (13)

Me: <receives email, 4+ hours later>

Email reads:

“I’m not seeing an option to unzip. I just can’t figure this out. Please come to my desk and do it for me.”


McHuh: Mkay, soooo here is the file.

Me: Select the file, right click, extract files. Done.

McHuh: OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. So? Do I like, have the file now?

Me: Define ‘have’.

McHuh: You know, liiiiike… I don’t have to download it again.


get-the-fuck-out bob

Would you like some salt with your salt?


Last night:

Exhausted, passed out early.

Wakes up mid-dream and/or sleepwalks-sits?

Rips off the top of a box of salt.

Sticks hand in salt.

Feels around for whatever in the fuck I thought was hiding in  the salt.

Ingests large handful of salt.

Wakes up.

Water so much water. More water. Water.

Back to sleep. Work related dreams nightmares.

Wakes up.


Notices coffee table and a plate full  of salt, beside a box of salt with the top ripped off.

Help me.

Dress shirt: 1, Me: 0

Here’s some fucking wisdom for you (#103).

So this happened:

Sometimes when you feel like everyone is staring at you on the subway, it’s not because you’re rocking it and you look awesome today (even though you totally are). It might possibly also be that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, leaving a perfect view of the girls.

And now I remember why that dress shirt hung in my closet for a year. RIP dress shirt.  You’re welcome, rush hour commuters.


One with the stair.

Hey! Do you know what’s awesome?

When you fall up the subway stairs, and people lend a hand, ask if you are okay, are genuinely concerned,  help you up walk on top of you as if you were one with the stair and glance back annoyed, as though it was your choice to bash your knees and face on the concrete. No really, I have shoe prints on my pants. Fuck you very much.


My Middle Finger Says, “Hello”.

Dear Mr. Bus Driver,

Thanks ever so much for slamming the door in my face as I ran up to the bus like a washed up track star. No really, it totally made my day.


My middle finger.