Thursday, July 28, 2011

How come when ... ?

How come when you quit your colleagues suddenly like you and find out you indispensable and they tell you how they gonna really miss you?

How come when you quit you find your colleagues a little more tolerable but keep your office door closed cause your ass can't stand them anyway?

How come when you quit those in charge want you to keep in touch?

I spent a few hours cleaning out my office today and taking sh*t off the office laptop.  Can't tell you how liberating it feels to delete sh*t they thought I filed in triplicate for the shareholdaz and the auditazz.

This office was the grandest one I have ever had.  A direct view of bums from the fourth floor standing around just a short walk from the Union buildings.

In the year that I have been in the office I received guests in the sitting area.  Never had a sitting area with a large roundtable and comfortable chairs before.

I liked walking around my desk to meet visitors and colleagues and sit across from them shaking my head hoping they asses would just roll so I could get back to thinking about resigning.

How come when you resign they send the nicest lady in HR to do an exit interview and you wonder why you never noticed her fynness before?

Is it a ploy to stop you from telling the f*cks just how much you hate them and the job you should never have taken even though your last job sucked just about the same?

How come when you unemployed it always seems so alluring to be employed and the other way around?

How come when you quit you keep waking up for weeks thinking "I f*cking hate my job" and then roll back to sleep and meet up with your unemployed boys for lunch at 4pm and talk about that pretty lady from HR you should have banged before or during the exit interview?

OK so maybe a little delusional "how come" projection here but you feeling me, right? :0)

How come when you move out of your old place you worry that they won't give you your whole deposit back and you always right?

How come when you buy sh*t for your new place you always forget you had it already packed away in a box from the last time you moved?

How come when you busy moving all the bras you never saw and they women want to stop by to tell you Pretoria ain't never gonna be the same again?

How come when you moving out of town there is at least three women who want to sleep with you but just never got around to coming over but now want to do so all on the night before you leave?

How come when you very busy moving and noticing all the sh*t you did not when you were just stuck at your job and your spot you can still find time to answer emails and to blog?

No really.  I mean what you think?  You busy like hell but you still find the time to write to folks who think it is OK to drop three sentence emails once in a while when they worried your ass ain't even feeling them anymore?

How come when you stop writing those folks it takes them by surprise that your ass is way pass even giving a f*ck about them or their supposed busy schedules?

How come when you need not to be talking sh*t about trifling asses on your blog that colleagues and other related professionals read in-between counting the big bucks they make being so much more anonymous and professional than you do anyway?

How come when you meet people in person you wonder why they don't blog too?

How come when you laugh at sh*t folks tell you two days after you throw a tantrum about your feelings it always seems funnier to you than it does to them?

How come a woman you have an enormous crush on can sum up your broken ass game as you walk out the door flustered in eleven words and three punctuation marks without flinching an eye?

  Mr. oh i like you too much so sorry, gotta go.

Ouch.  She onto me already!

Moms if you not reading please get that Aunty N. woman to help you turn the computer on and delete my blog.  I'm about busted and my game is done.

That's what happens when you live online and your tired sh*t works online and then the real world ... whammo!

Please don't be writing me emails to explain that ass whupping in eleven words.  Suffice it to sing "the old boy just ain't what he used to be ... ain't  what he used to be ... "

Did anyone say Jerome in da houseeeee?

Just saying ... "it always seem like I'm getting hurt by some damn woman ... " ;0)



Kweli said...

"I got more tears than a white man got fears." Dang, couldn't stop laughing at that!

"How come when you moving out of town there is at least three women who want to sleep with you but just never got around to coming over but now want to do so all on the night before you leave?" Been there done that. One woman, though, not three.

Some of these work colleagues and friends and folks in Pretoria wanna quit their jobs/lives, but they too afraid. They too dependent on Klein Baas or they afraid of what everybody else thinks. We need materials to live, but we can't be trapped or enslaved because of materialism. Well, at least not all the time. Brotha gotta quit sometime!

Ridwan said...

Hey Kweli:

I love that quote too man. Jerome is the playa.

And there are bruthaz like that even in Portland.

I bumped into one a few years ago at a restaurant.

In PDX where white folks think we the minority in the world.

I hear you on quitting brother.

I am so relieved chief. Klein baas and his agents gots no hold on me.

Hope you enjoyed your move out date ... hell if it is gonna roll like this I might move every second month ;0)

Be well my brutha.



Rodney said...

Nigga this shit brings back memories and it is still funneeee!!!!!!

We all got a little Jerome in us Ridi.

But my brotha u seem to have more!!!!

Waaaaaaa haaaaa

Peace out.

Ridwan said...

Rodney you right about a little Jerome dude. Can't argue with that at all.

And yeah of late I have been feeling like a broke ass wanna be playa except chief I've seen your game and dating your sister's divorced cousin is still dating your own cousin.

Waaaa haaa back at ya ;0)

Be gud playa.