I make an alarming number of Timbaland references.
Anyway. For my horrible job I have long interviews with crazy people and then write websites based off of their bizarre delusions. During the interview, I have to fill out long, long questionnaires with their rambling verbal deliriums.
Since the world is ending following a racist bottle of orange Crush being named our president-elect, it’s timely that one of the websites would include something about arming babies for a baby militia. I’m assuming that’s what’s going on here:
Who wants to make “arm the babies” shirts for You Life?
Everyone has signed up for job alerts, right? I mean…unless you’re an heiress chances are you’ve signed up for Smart Match, and Beyond, and Monster, and Indeed (or InFact or whatever it’s called). And then your name goes on a list and you end up getting emails from The Ladders, and Duke Careers, and High Life – right?
I think the way these emails have evolved is purely magical. Since I haven’t cultivated the garden of employment emails, or specific job skills, in the last three years my email alerts for new jobs make me feel like I’m a spy. Also, the diverse nature of my abilities according to these alerts is truly staggering. See:
Either a bartender at TGIFridays – an establishment I was previously fired from. OR an exciting new career as an International Communications Manager – a job I’ve never heard of.
And of course:
The viable option for me to be a physician at Abington Hospital.
Thanks, email! That was fun for both of us.
I used to work for a legitimate crazy person at her home office, which is a horse of different color. But one day these two super-hot dudes came to her door and said they were selling books. So instantly suckered into their little web of deceit, my boss and I bought like $45 worth of books. Fun side note, the grimier one of the dudes gave me his number in case I needed my, “lawn trimmed” (his words, not mine).
After six months, it became apparent that two jerk-offs ripped off an old (crazy) lady and a young girl. No books appeared. However, I did start receiving a subscription to Gourmet Magazine that I never requested or paid for.
Because sometimes the universe rewards you by being ripped off by someone who you thought was flirting with you with a magazine that you’ve never been interested in, used, or really read. And then it further rewards you by sending you William Sonoma catalogues for two years following, assumedly because of it. Thanks, universe!
And something similar happened to my best friend Shawn recently:
Not since the new York Times accidentally leaked an NSA employee’s name has a publication made such a grievous error. It has come to my attention that I made a abysmal mistake in my previous update. This blunder was brought to me by my co-worker and friend “Micha…” in yesterdays chat (and chat photo). As it turns out when I was picking G.I. Joe characters I picked a inaccurate character to represent him. I originally intended Duke to be used for someone else, but sheer laziness and Microsoft Paint had other plans.
This was my miscalculation and embarrassing oversight.
Since Micha… was kind enough to bring to my attention the horrendous slip-up on my part, as a favor I am issuing a redaction with a correction. Mea Culpa, Micha…! Thankfully, he was so magnanimous that he even offered me a list to pick from for the corrected inter-office chat photo:
he makes so many valid points
Let’s hope that You Life doesn’t flounder into the world of Brian Williams-like disreputable-ness. Here is the corrected hilarity from yesterday:
This one is for you Micha…
Wow, my laziness has gotten the best of me in regards to updating the ol’ You Life. Let’s change that, and I can make empty promises to be more diligent about keeping this current. Since, I’m a sort of finger on the pulse of politics kinda girl here’s a topical post.
In the inter-office chat we discuss stupidity, and I knock it out of the park with my zingers. I also changed everyone’s chat icons to G.I. Joe characters (with the exception of myself, which I have indicated as such).
Take that wealthy politicians! Be hurt by my bitchery.
At my job we have an inter-office chat where your co-workers can hit you up about whatever they have a question about, or just general shenanigans. We can put little inspirational quotes above our names that give glimpses into the inner psyche of you as a worker bee.
Here is mine:
and she wouldn’t give it to me!!!!
No one’s gotten it.
PS I did not green-light that photo of me. It’s the cruel image that the sadistic people that take our ID photos took. And for some reason it’s linked to everything I do at the office.