Life lessons through interpretive dance

Some messages bear repeating
“We don’t want to send the wrong message to kids.”

ORLY? Why not? Surely it’s a sacred duty? The sooner they learn that the world is a harsh place full of politicians and telemarketers, the sooner they’ll stop expecting cake and embrace coprophagia.

Many thanks and profound apologies to fellow webcomicist Dev for the inspiration.

The dropped ball

It would be great if I turned into the Hulk every time I lost my shit.  Unfortunately, I'm the sort of monster who does psychological damage, not physical
I recently discovered that I had issued the wrong revision of a construction drawing to site. The contractor has already built the affected portion of work, so there will be delays and additional costs while he fixes the cock-up.

The actual amount is negligible – it’s about 0.2% of the total project cost – but when I told the client about it, he started behaving as though he’d caught me enjoying carnal intimacy with his dog in the master bedroom (Hah! As if I would ever get caught!).

I was tasked with compiling the necessary facts and figures relating to “the case”, so that he can – I don’t know – brandish it threateningly and foam at the mouth some more.

There is no doubt that he’s justified in being pissed off, but it seems a tad sadistic to demand that I provide him with the very stick he intends to beat me with.

Everything is awesome!

Being a team player is far more important than not itching
Every year our marketing department circulates a memo encouraging the peons to augment their wardrobes with ghastly new corporate-branded clothing. It’s a rather heavy-handed way of telling us to conform or else.

It wouldn’t be so bad if there was something in the catalogue that I could actually bring myself to wear, but the company “look” essentially involves beige chinos and pale blue polycotton shirts – i.e. the uniform of dead souls.

I don’t think the office is ready for the magnificence of my dragon onesie just yet.