Speaking of dickheads

It's a breath of fresh air. A walk in the park. I'm just waiting for all the little birdies to sing outside the window. And what a fucking relief.

No dickheads in this office.

Or maybe I'm the only one. Heh.

A far cry from the daily tug-of-war at my previous workplace where an actual Dwight exists. I didn't mind much the watchful eyes. They can watch me all they want. But when Dwight-ess started picking on my people, pressuring them, well, bullying them behind my back, well that's a different story. I didn't even know there was a problem until someone came out in the open and showed me the emails. Then the claims of lazyness, lying, and non-performance. And all this went directly to the boss. I could've handled it. If I knew about it.

So it was like that. Every fucking day. As much as I love most of the people I worked with, it wasn't enough to keep me on board. I hate fighting silent wars. It's just too time consuming. I catch only a couple of hours sleep and still I'm way behind on my TV shows and comic books.

Now back in advertising. At ThreeSixty Design, Inc. Late nights, sure. But also rubbershoes, shirts, shitloads of cash (I'm exaggerating) and people who work hard but also don't give a fuck with whatever you do with your time as long as you deliver. And it feels fucking great.

(Metal Men cover from Superdickery.com)