EDITOR’S NOTE: The Unknown Blogger has made several appearances here at Dubsism, and this won’t be the last. He has finally agreed to be a regular contributor here even though he left the world of professional sports journalism a few years back vowing never to return.
It’s OK because this blog is anything but professional.
This is a six-part installment of “The Deep Six” because the The Unknown Blogger has been in the American workforce long enough to have plenty of opinions (36 of them to be exact) on the people you find in it. You can see the other installments here:
Most of us have jobs, which means unless you are the re-incarnation of Mahatma Fucking Gandhi, we all have at least one co-worker we’d like to drown in a toilet stall. If you’re like me, you might just have more than one. The reasons why we don’t like them are as numerous as those annoying-ass people themselves. Let’s be honest. common decency and civility got euthanized in this country decades ago. Maybe I shouldn’t use that term. “Euthanize” sounds like there was a gentleness in it’s death; what we collectively did to common decency and civility made the St. Valentine’s Massacre look like it was preceded by a candlelight dinner with wine and roses.
Having said that, I’m here to break down the various types of co-workers we can all agree need to be lined up against a wall in front of a belt-fed machine gun, but to offer the age old test…if you look through this list and don’t see one of the types mentioned, consider the possibility it may very well be you.
36) The “Social Director“
This ass-wipe operates under the assumption that because you spend 40+ hours a week around a group of people whose only common thread is the signatures on their paychecks, there needs to be a bunch of social interaction to go along with it. The activities run the gambit from happy hours, company picnics, and those goddamn “pot luck” lunches. I don’t even like using the restroom after most of these slobs, there’s no fucking way I’m eating anything they prepared. The “Social Director” in most workplaces is a single (usually divorced) mother with at least two kids (usually teen-agers) which tells you how long it’s been since she’s gotten any dick. Since her personal life is emptier than her cooch, she tries to fill it with as much time around the main source of non-family human contact she gets. If by chance your “Social Director” happens to be male, $5 will get you $10 he’s a quasi-creepy loner or completely undesirable fairy.
35) The “Hermit“
This is the exact opposite of the “Social Director.” By all outward appearances, the”Hermit” is perfectly normal, but has a pathological aversion to human contact. But as the old saying goes, appearances are always what they seem. “Hermits” may just be introverts who are otherwise normal…or the may have a freezer in their basement stocked with neatly-butchered Filet de Girl Scout.
34) Captain “Don’t Care”
Here’s the last person you want to engage in a conversation because their answer to everything is some variant of disinterest. Don’t confuse this one with the person hiding their ignorance with apathy. “Captain Don’t Care” is always some smarmy self-involved narcissist who fancies themselves as being “above it all.” In reality, they are a bunch of pseudo-intellectual “know-it-alls” who either have spent 7 years in college as a “professional student” never getting a degree because they majored in registration, or they are earning an advanced degree is some useless humanity/liberal art. At some point, every one of these ass-cunts was a barista at Starbucks, and be warned your office will fill up with them once Barnes and Noble goes belly-up.
33) The “All-Earth Mother“
As the title suggests, “The All-Earth Mother” is always a woman; one who has become an enviro-holistic whack job once they pumped progeny out of their baby chute. These are the people who make the “participation trophy” parents look like Ward and June Fucking cleaver. These are the mothers who say not putting your kids on a vegan diet is “child abuse,” even though your kid is perfectly healthy while theirs looks like a mottled-gray asthmatic water-head. These are the mothers who breast-feed their kids until they are 14, and to support that, they belong to the La Leche league, for whom they fire-bomb dairy trucks. These are the bitches who file lawsuits claiming they should be able to pump their milking-tits at their desks if not slap the kid right on the boob right there. As a result, these are the mothers who fill up the freezer in your break room with their tit-squeezings.
32) The “Sports” Parent
Walk by this person’s desk, and any available surface will be festooned with pictures of one or more of their kids in “baseball-card”-style poses. If there are no “action” shots of the kid playing (insert sport here), that almost always means the kid sucks out loud. If the “action” shots exist, get ready to hear a lot of bullshit about how coaches think this kid(s) are “amazing natural talents,” and/or they’re being recruited for an athletic scholarship at (insert major/prestigious university here). Nearly all of them are athletic failures in their own right, they all live vicariously through their kids because they never made it past JV tight-end. If they aren’t athletic failures, you know they are those hyper-competitive dick-breaths who punch out Little League umpires.
31) The “New” Parent
All first-time parents go through this phase, and they all deserve a “honeymoon” period for that. After all, the birth of your first child is a seriously life-altering event, and everybody experiencing that deserves a pass on hitting the “annoying” level celebrating that occasion. But here’s the deal…the “honeymoon” phase has an expiration date. After the kid’s 2nd birthday or the birth of the next child (whichever comes first), if you keep posting 20 pictures a day of that kid…well, you’re a “Social Director” waiting to happen. People who post that many pictures per day are well on their way to becoming isolated and weird.
As the “Countdown King” Casey Kasem would tell you, only 30 to go to get to #1…stay tuned.
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