Friday, August 12, 2005

Consultants are the Devil's Rejects

So, I think I officially hate consultants. At least the ones we hire. I realize it’s rough being a consultant. You never work at the same place or with the same people for long enough to unpack boxes. But, our consultants believe that I am their mother. And now that I’m doing two jobs, I don’t have time to babysit them. I figured shit out when I started working here, you would think they would be better at “just figure it out yourself”-ing what with having a new place to work every month. However, no. “My network port isn’t working.” “Where can I get access to ____________?” Do you know…”
Allow me to answer these questions “ I DON’T FREAKING KNOW! AND YOU KNOW WHAT? I ALSO DON’T CARE! FUCK OFF!!”

I know that my coworkers (to whom I’ve explained the problems that arise when they tell people to “just ask Coley, she knows everything.”) are only exacerbating the problem. Every day I here “CB said you would tell me _______.” Meanwhile, I have to explain for a full 3 minutes that I don’t know. I’ve become so mean when people walk up with questions, I think one of them has developed a stutter. Which I find really irritating. I know, it’s not his fault. But now I feel less than generous with my good graces, so fuck it.

On top of the constant barrage of questions, there’s the cologne. At least 2/3 of all consultants wear entirely too much cologne. You know what I’m talking about. You walk by and almost black out because there isn’t any oxygen in the air. You walk back to your desk and can still TASTE their cologne? Yeah, and they all want to sit next to me.

One guy, every time I walk by (which is about every 20 minutes, more on this later) has to acknowledge me. I try to quietly sneak by, but every time he fully stops what he’s doing and turns his chair completely around to say something nice and inane such as “oh, it’s Coley,” or “there she goes.” I feel bad being mean, but come on. Unless you actually have something to say, stop it.

Ok, didn’t realize my hate-on went this deep. Maybe I need valium.


So, this is funny, and I don’t want to make fun of anyone here, but it just came to my attention that some people thought Xtian was Chinese, and even tried to figure out which region a name like Xtian came from. Just to clarify, Xtian is an abbreviation like Xmas. I distrust most religions, so the fact that I’m now living with a man whose name is the title of a major religion is a little ironic. But no, he’s not Chinese. He’s black. Trying to keep everyone straight on my life here. As though anyone gives a shit.


So, back to the My Vagina discourse from the other day. Yep, it’s official: full blown bladder infection. It’s ridiculous. And thanks for the advice on that everyone. I know of the cranberry juice remedy, but I’m on a diet that doesn’t allow sugar, or even fruit juice, so I was SOL on that one. Antibiotics and two weeks of sex-free existence are on the menu. This sucks. I’ve really come to look forward to my daily sexcapades. Why else would anyone live with their lady/man friend?

Ok, so we’ve been discussing my nether-regions more than even I would like, so perhaps I’ll go a few days without mentioning my vagina. Except for this:
There’s a new beverage out there which I have to laugh at. It’s called Orangina. Which could be pronounced: o-ran-geen-a
But I prefer: o-ran-gyn-a so that it rhymes with vagina. Every time I see anyone drinking it, I laugh out loud. Good fun. For me.

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