Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Friday, 3 February 2017

A Week Of Hell Ahead

Our National Sales Manager is coming in next week. He's a bellicose, loud, fwench-canadian shit of a man and I don't like the way he talks to people. Alberta has joined the rest of North America in the financial toilet. Businesses are trying to hang on and make payroll, never mind tooling up with new equipment. Sales are down.

I suppose it's only fair; back when things were going well we always beat him up - we needed better deliveries, more inventory, better service ... and he would get this sheepish, stupid look on his face and start mumbling about how we have to understand that they aren't miracle workers, blah blah blah. Now the boot is on the other foot - when it isn't lodged firmly up my arse, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

Truthfully I don't know if I will have a job after he leaves. I don't fuggin care anymore either, he can flog us like rented mules all he wants, the economy is what it is and no temper tantrums from some fwench idiot is going to change it. I can only do what I can do. Overheated economies are no fun either... it's been a hectic decade for me.

As for me, I will always find work. I can go get a job at the Treehouse sweeping up the monkey dung, or out to Coopville scraping bubble gum off the deck. I used to have nightmares about losing my job but now my bills are paid, I've saved as much as I can (which is more than most people, my financial planner told us) - and an odd serenity has fallen over me. I could find fulfillment, at least for awhile, chasing monkeys and chickens around and swatting at them with a broom. Or flipping burgers or pushing a lawn mower. I feel change in the air, sometimes.

In other news, the 30 day injunction against Filthie's Speakeasy comes off today! As you may recall, the health inspectors shut us down. I maintain the establishment's innocence: it was not graffiti on the washroom wall - it was a rational warning in the civic interest:

Ain't no use,
Standing on the seat.
Crabs around here
Jump 99 feet.

I might post some much loved music later today. Be sure to stop by for happy hour tonight if you have time.

1 comment:

  1. As I remember it, I had about two years seniority at the place and was working hard. The general manager, whom we'll call Rat Face, was a little snot, always finding fault with everything. One day Rat Face called everyone in for a meeting, then started up a screed about how we need to work harder, smarter, and be eternally grateful for the privilege of doing so. When he segued into how wonderful a place this was to work, I'd had enough.

    I sat up and leaned back in my chair, into a comfortable, arrogant sprawl.

    "Aw, shaddup," I said. "I'm sick o' listenin' to ya."


    "You heard me. I didn't mumble."

    There was a long, tense silence. You could have heard a gnat fart. I was damned if I was going to speak first; whoever speaks first, loses.

    "That remark was uncalled for, and on that note this meeting is over." Rat Face stood up and walked quickly to his office, closing the door behind him. I felt a little better about the whole business.

    About three months later I went to work for a competitor, and six months after that I was a Statewide, raging success. I found out later that Rat Face used to brag about firing me.