Dear Dick, You're A Dick
Sometimes You Just Need To Say, “You’re a Dick!”
Me?
I don’t say it with flowers, I say it with dried deer genitalia. . .
(Screeeeeech!)
Huh?
Yup, deer dick! Bambi Penis, the real deal.
My boss has infuriated me for close to a year. He’s smart and funny, but chooses to be a lazy, complacent fuckwad instead of a decent boss or caring educator.
It really drives me into a fury. A few months ago: corners, mumbling, rabid, by 10am. . .
I’ve come pretty close to losing my temper on his complacency and condescension a few times:
I like to make “silent deals” with the stupid people I’ve had to work for. Not all people, just the stupid, or selectively-stupid.
It goes like this:
Don’t question how I teach or the level of care I give my students, you can barely remember their names and could give a shit if your laziness takes their self-confidence down crucial notches.
The majority of my students are workin' folks who haven’t had the privilege of parental connections or plushy educations to buffer their banging lurch into the real world.
Not that my boss has any huge advantage, but I can tell he’s smart enough to understand what a pickle some of these kids are in, and he just doesn’t care. My (now previous – “you can’t fire me, because I quit!”) boss also seems comfortably middle-class, and it just irks me that he’s happy to fail my students who can’t afford the bus fare to show up, and never have money for food, without my boss looking into it.
The damned school gave them loans, preparing them to fail on the government’s dollar. . .
This isn’t every student of course, but certain ones make my claws and fangs just twitch. . .I’m a Leo, don’t fuck with this Mama Lion.
Maybe it’s build up, I dunno – I can’t stay in shit holes that long before needing to crawl out.
So. . .anyway, my boss? He’s a Dick. . .
And a while ago I ordered a package . . . that oddly came from a pet supply store, which I didn’t put together until I realized the beef jerky was really rawhide, and weird . . . dried deer dick.
And me? I’m always half into the joke when I really should just keep my mouth shut, so I’m like. . .
Dear Dick,
You’re a dick.
Oh wait?!
Who’s the BIGGEST dick I personally have to make nice with every day?
My Boss!
So. . .I saved the package, savored the notion, and popped it in my bag this morning, my last day at the factory, at the usual buttcrack dawn. He’s never there when I march in to teach my 8am, so I pinned it behind his monitor. . .
“Just a subliminal, visual note from me to you, so you know that I know you’re a Dick. . .”
I told a few of my pals at work. They were equally alarmed by my gross immaturity, and jealous: Wishing that they could do the same. Me? I was chillin’ like a villain, rude as a landmine. . .and I just waited. . .
Tick tock, your tax dollars at work, I teach YOUR children.
Knee-deep in my own self-satisfied amusement, I wander back into the faculty lounge, and the boss is like, “Did you put this here?” He’s spooky. His eyes can go from mean old man who’s a drunk bastard with a bad gambling habit to the most innocent, sparkly little boy. If he could channel that I bet he could be a priest or a character actor for the small stage, instead he’s a lazy half-assed middle-aged, middle-manager at a for-profit, bull-shit school that promises gold and barely keeps their hay clean of all the shit building up.
I sorta looked at him in that deadpan “I’m already dead, I’m so remote” poker-face I inherited from the Cowboys on dad’s side and the stone-cold Vikings on mom’s. . .and smiled quickly to switch gears before I showed my hand.
“Eee-eew,” I managed to squeal, doing my best dumb white girl, to throw him off. “That’s so gro-oss. . .” I managed to chirp, and kept my eyes open and mouth shut. Satisfied, he asked another professor, my male-doppelganger: someone equally obnoxious and capable of the subtle finger-waving:
Dear Dick,
Fuck you, deer dick. . ..
that I had pinned in El Bosso’s cubicle.
“Wow, maybe I’m taking it too personally?” The Boss kept asking other people throughout the day. . .
Me?
I like to give a gift that KEEPS ON GIVING. . .
Because sometimes, it’s best to say “You’re a DICK” with . . . well, a dick.
Me?
I don’t say it with flowers, I say it with dried deer genitalia. . .
(Screeeeeech!)
Huh?
Yup, deer dick! Bambi Penis, the real deal.
My boss has infuriated me for close to a year. He’s smart and funny, but chooses to be a lazy, complacent fuckwad instead of a decent boss or caring educator.
It really drives me into a fury. A few months ago: corners, mumbling, rabid, by 10am. . .
I’ve come pretty close to losing my temper on his complacency and condescension a few times:
I like to make “silent deals” with the stupid people I’ve had to work for. Not all people, just the stupid, or selectively-stupid.
It goes like this:
Don’t question how I teach or the level of care I give my students, you can barely remember their names and could give a shit if your laziness takes their self-confidence down crucial notches.
The majority of my students are workin' folks who haven’t had the privilege of parental connections or plushy educations to buffer their banging lurch into the real world.
Not that my boss has any huge advantage, but I can tell he’s smart enough to understand what a pickle some of these kids are in, and he just doesn’t care. My (now previous – “you can’t fire me, because I quit!”) boss also seems comfortably middle-class, and it just irks me that he’s happy to fail my students who can’t afford the bus fare to show up, and never have money for food, without my boss looking into it.
The damned school gave them loans, preparing them to fail on the government’s dollar. . .
This isn’t every student of course, but certain ones make my claws and fangs just twitch. . .I’m a Leo, don’t fuck with this Mama Lion.
Maybe it’s build up, I dunno – I can’t stay in shit holes that long before needing to crawl out.
So. . .anyway, my boss? He’s a Dick. . .
And a while ago I ordered a package . . . that oddly came from a pet supply store, which I didn’t put together until I realized the beef jerky was really rawhide, and weird . . . dried deer dick.
And me? I’m always half into the joke when I really should just keep my mouth shut, so I’m like. . .
Dear Dick,
You’re a dick.
Oh wait?!
Who’s the BIGGEST dick I personally have to make nice with every day?
My Boss!
So. . .I saved the package, savored the notion, and popped it in my bag this morning, my last day at the factory, at the usual buttcrack dawn. He’s never there when I march in to teach my 8am, so I pinned it behind his monitor. . .
“Just a subliminal, visual note from me to you, so you know that I know you’re a Dick. . .”
I told a few of my pals at work. They were equally alarmed by my gross immaturity, and jealous: Wishing that they could do the same. Me? I was chillin’ like a villain, rude as a landmine. . .and I just waited. . .
Tick tock, your tax dollars at work, I teach YOUR children.
Knee-deep in my own self-satisfied amusement, I wander back into the faculty lounge, and the boss is like, “Did you put this here?” He’s spooky. His eyes can go from mean old man who’s a drunk bastard with a bad gambling habit to the most innocent, sparkly little boy. If he could channel that I bet he could be a priest or a character actor for the small stage, instead he’s a lazy half-assed middle-aged, middle-manager at a for-profit, bull-shit school that promises gold and barely keeps their hay clean of all the shit building up.
I sorta looked at him in that deadpan “I’m already dead, I’m so remote” poker-face I inherited from the Cowboys on dad’s side and the stone-cold Vikings on mom’s. . .and smiled quickly to switch gears before I showed my hand.
“Eee-eew,” I managed to squeal, doing my best dumb white girl, to throw him off. “That’s so gro-oss. . .” I managed to chirp, and kept my eyes open and mouth shut. Satisfied, he asked another professor, my male-doppelganger: someone equally obnoxious and capable of the subtle finger-waving:
Dear Dick,
Fuck you, deer dick. . ..
that I had pinned in El Bosso’s cubicle.
“Wow, maybe I’m taking it too personally?” The Boss kept asking other people throughout the day. . .
Me?
I like to give a gift that KEEPS ON GIVING. . .
Because sometimes, it’s best to say “You’re a DICK” with . . . well, a dick.
posted by Anonymousat 7:55 PM
4 Comments:
That is a priceless(sp?)story.
Nice.
-CHefdino-
LMFAO
Oh god...when you told me on the phone it was hilarious...but reading it is even better. Oh my god...to be a fly on the wall when he was trying to find out who did it...
How did you keep a straight face?
That's just awesome.
Dude, tomorrow I have to go in for a stupid event and I get to see BossMan again. I got an email from suit2 that they're planning on exploiting this one. I know that this will not end for a long time. lol... he sooooooo deserves it!
WonderWoman over here (you know, the one who does the great drag as said edumacational institution) is pissing his little white dick because you know I go toe to toe with Dick and still manage to smell like, oh, I don't know, a Florida orange? Sometimes I'm sorry to be in the classroom because I know I miss moments like this, then when I realize that there are others who catch my colors the the lighthouse in the storm they are meant to be and I find out they are up the the same good that I am I really want to piss my Saturday morning cartoon pants. This coin really has two sides because I've had said Dickhead as an "educator" and nothing's changed but the date honey. Nothing. I don't care where he is, who he is, or where he goes, I'll always remember his name because it's never hard to forget that we all have at least one ASSHOLE to deal with. And it's people like him and people like you, for entirely different reasons, who enable me to walk into a classroom with my little white dick hanging out and do such a great fucking job that somehow I manage to teach them to fish instead of feed them for a day.
God bless them all, and God bless you. And someday I hope the Big House comes tumbling down in its own rot and stink and the zealots are exposed for the lies they are perpetuating day in and day out.
Oh, I'll get some rawhide before I leave just to prolong the agony. Maybe a post it note or two.
You know, I've been know to piss through a mail slot.
And I'll do it again for all the grrls who wish they could.
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