S**t. You again.

Bugger corona. I had managed to avoid you since taking a pay cut and change of department (to avoid you). Now to keep up morale, I am forced to attend online meetings, that include you. This is the second one since lockdown. .our looming, wobbly face fills up my screen again, and is reminiscent of a rectal prolapse. I tried really hard not to be triggered my your constant nitpicking. Your job could be very useful, but you have made it not so. You do fuck all, and when you are forced to do one tiny thing, well inside your ever-decreasing remit, you scream and cry and try and pass it back to other people. You then spout utter meaningless shite in an attempt to sound big and clever. You don’t sound big or clever. You sound as shit as you look. Every single time someone speaks, you have to add to it something irrelevant that puts down the speaker, and tries to big you up. The thing is, it doesn’t work, and you slowly add to the despair everyone feels every time you spout forth the meaningless, unimportant bollocks that you do. I am waiting for your first cough – you will do it – you will I am sure claim you have this terrible virus, if only to gain some attention, once you have realised (even through your own very thickened skin) that nothing else you do will bring concern or attention.

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Posted in Workrant.

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