I fucking hate going to work at the end of the month. HATE......HATE......in case that wasn't expressed clearly enough.
It's that time where everyone in management decides the best course of action to hit whatever goals the company has set forth, is to run around and freak the fuck out. Remember, production is a result of panic attacks and anxiety issues. So says the idiots in the suits who can't manage to wipe their own asses in just 3 steps, but somehow managed to get a job running a department.
Mix in this being the end of the quarter and having to worry about what we're reporting for that, and it's an even bigger party.
There's something I learned in management a long time ago that I think is still true. SHUT THE FUCK UP. IT DOESN'T MATTER AT THIS POINT!!!!
Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. Constantly pacing the floors, reminding of us stupid details that mean nothing, and annoying me to the point I want to punch you in the uterus so you can't breed more annoyances for me later helps everything. The stockholders love that.
I just have to remind myself there's only 3 days left. It might be wise to show up with a tub full of Prozac for them to dig into. That and I'll hammer back 5 hydrocodone and 3 shots of Jager before I walk in the door.