. . .

Bugger it all

Not that I mean that literally. (An entertaining mental image, admittedly. I don't swing that way, however, even though I know for a fact that the world does have an asshole. He was in front of my desk earlier, shouting at me for not having finished the two week task he assigned me this morning.)

I think I've finally mustered up the courage to do something about it, though. Maybe courage isn't the right word. Dickless Dwayne has finally pissed me off enough that even unemployment is better than listening to him. It was the last thing he said, as an afterthought, throwing it back over his shoulder. He must have read it in one of him Bossing Books he keeps conspicuously around his office. "Business Management for Dummies." He qualifies on every count. Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Saying over his shoulder, as he left. It's probably Point 317: Never leave your employees feeling unappreciated. So, after royally reaming me out for something that isn't my fault, nor in my job description, he says, "You do good work, Bruce."

I do good work. I do good work. I've been with this fucking company from day one. I built the bulk of the application, from scratch, in three months, THREE FUCKING MONTHS, singlehandedly, because we didn't have the money for more than one tech geek until we had an actual product. Three months in which I barely took time off to eat, much less sleep. Since then, I've turned around similar miracles on request, saving our asses more often then not. And what do I get from the deal? A crappy paycheck and Dwayne over there in the front office. Bugger it all.

And I can't complain. I don't have the guts for it. When Dwayne is around, I say, "Yes, sir," and "Thank you, sir." So I'll just leave.

I've made that decision before, though. One time, I even got as far as not coming in one morning. About an hour late, I ran in and claimed my tire went flat, and then Dwayne reamed me out for that. I need to do something dramatic. Some way of irrevocably breaking it off. Think of it like a girlfriend.

No. No, on second thought, no. God. Don't, whatever you do, think of it like a girlfriend. God. I wonder if Janey is ready to hear me beg her for forgiveness yet?

I am pathetic. That's what I am. I'm an utter pathetic useless waste. I'm never going to get out of here. Smarter than the rest of the goddamn company put together, and no balls at all, that's me. God.

I've got to think positive, that's the stuff. Think upright, forward, fully locked, I'm going to leave here and I'm not going to let anything stop me. I'm going to walk right into Dwayne's office, and I'm going to tell Dwayne off right to his face, and then I'll bust a chair over his head and I'll leave.

No, I won't. If I have any kind of human contact, I'll cave. I know that.

Maybe I can sabotage the system somehow? Create a worm or something. Hell, if Dwayne can shut everything down for two days by opening that "i love you" thing, I can certainly screw everything up for months if I do it intentionally. That would be irrevocable.

Also stupid. Either I don't leave any trace of my actions, in which case I come to work the next day and get set to cleaning up the mess, or I leave my name all over it, in which case I might even get arrested. Bugger. I said that already.

Unless...

Unless I destroyed the company. That would do it. If I made sure no one knew who did it, I could corrupt our products so badly no one would buy a thing we produced ever again if the Pope himself came in and blessed it. Our stock would plummet faster than Pauly Shore's career. I'm brilliant.

Is it right, though? Is it fair of me to put 238 people out of work to get away from one man, no matter how much of a prick he is? Is it ethical? Is it... hold on.

That was Dwayne again.

This ends now.