Photo by Sylvar
You know, these days, I can remember strolling down stairs one fine hung over Sunday morning at the ripe old age of nineteen. Being a college sophomore and, well, Irish, I did what any fine young lad should do the night before: got shit housed.
I remember hearing my sister who was a few years out of college ramble on about how she had just been promoted, but work had gotten, “kind of depressing”. I sat there grilling about six pieces of toast thinking to myself “ I stuff bread in my stomach it will somehow absorb the alcohol and take the sharp pains out of my frigging head,” but, besides that, thinking to myself, “what the hell is this chick babbling on about? She majored in economics, what did she think she was gonna be? Indiana Fricken Jones?” Read more…
Photo by rollingrck
“25 grand is simply not enough money for me to get shot dead in some ghetto. I will call ‘em back when they raise the starting salary back to a living wage.”
This is what I told my mother when I was fresh out of college, waiting tables for cash and a 3.30 an hour paycheck at a local greasy spoon and pretending to apply for jobs post-college. I was twisting in the wind, failing to land publishing positions and uninterested in selling insurance, knives, or the Yellow Pages (yes, people still do that). I had just taken the NYPD test because I figured it provided an opportunity to ward off my parent’s exhortations that I make a career decision pronto. I simply wasn’t into it. As far as I was concerned, waiting tables and drinking Negro Modelos on the public beach at 3 o’clock in the afternoon after a day shift was all I needed in life, until I decided to write the next classic American novel. After all, it worked for Kerouac and Thompson. Read more…
Photo by Urthstripe
You got the confirmation. Welcome to Corporate America! It doesn’t matter who you work for because you now have health insurance and a steady paycheck. This may not be your dream job but now you can get screened for sexual diseases in the comfort of your in-network doctor’s office. Life is good. This is your first corporate job and before you lay your clothes out to work like this is junior high, this is what you can expect in corporate America.
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September 11th, 2009
Phox
Photo by JohnHallAssociates
As you enter the working world, the language you are accustomed to using in an email will be replaced with politically correct business terms. Here are five terms you should understand before clicking send.
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Photo by Tim Patterson
Mondays are not unlike the crippled ginger love-child of Dane Cook and Carlos Mencia; they’re hated by everyone, and for good reason. Mondays are when we realize that we’re stuck with four more days of Debbie/Cathy/Carol/Eileen playing Sarah Maclachlan on adult alternative radio from her neighboring cubicle, gabbing it up with every other Debbie/Cathy/Carol/Eileen about American Idol when all you want is for her to waddle her fat clerical ass down to the supply cabinet and fetch you some paper clips, because you’ve got chains to make.
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