Once upon a time, there was a department (not mine). It had a pretty good manager and three worker bees. One worker bee was a little older than the other young’ns, and way more experienced and more friendly and did WAY better work.

He was also paid the least and treated like dog shit by the fellow bees. I was dating that one. Really liked him, too.

The manager quit. Layoffs happened and the best one was let go. Two little twerps remained.

At some point the more-offensive of the two remaining twerps got himself fired. Good fucking riddance. I hated him. He was the meanest to my guy. And my guy was sweet and kind-hearted and had a nice word to say about everyone.

This twerp was the only person I’ve ever seen him have a problem with. Ergo, so did I and I STILL bristle when people throw this asshole’s name into conversation.

Third little twerp hangs on by a thread. Incidentally, I stopped asking for anything from this group after my friend was gone.

After close to three years, I hit up second twerp for the easiest of the world’s easiest tasks.

Did they re-earn my trust? My respect? My business?


I think Pinhead, Second Twerp and White Comic Sans Font on a White Banner (I’m refraining from comment on that screwed-up stork gift) need to go form their own company. On a boat. With a hole in it. In the middle of Hurricane Erika’s path.

If this Hurricane Erika is anything like the one whose path I crossed in 2010, it’s a fitting end.

Speaking of …

The End.

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