I Just Need it to Work!

I should be glad that my workplace supplies stationery for us hard-working drones. It'd be so much nicer if we got quality stuff from a quality supplier since what we have to use is pretty shitty. But oh oh, we can't go to another store to buy a nicer pen or printer toner because we have an exclusive contract with this company and everything must be purchased through them.

I don't see why I have to put up with no name post-it notes that don't stick to anything once you rip them off the pad. What the frig is the point, then? I might as well use an old gum wrapper affixed with a paperclip for all the convenience these post-its are providing. I'd use tape, if half of the sticky stuff didn't routinely end up on the wrong side of the roll. While we're at it, why don't I just prick my fingertips and write in blood? The flow would certainly be more consistent than the ink we get from some of these pens.

Good lord, of all the things to piss you off at work why's it got to be the basic writing utensils we are required to use? I don't even use correction fluid anymore because the stuff that comes in the bottles is akin to dirty water. By the time I've applied the 43rd coat to sufficiently cover my mistake the paper looks like a mess made by an overzealous and sloppy 5th grader. The tape stuff likes to break off into little pieces so to cover a five letter word I need to piece together 7 sections of it and sometimes they decide they don't want to stick either, instead balling up into bits and flying away like eraser crumbs.

For a really long time we had to use recycled toners for our machines because that's what the supplier had. For a really long time we sent numerous letters out to clients professionally done in completely greyed-out paper, black lines across the sheets and faded sections. When we complained about the poor printing and copying quality we were told to suck it up and deal.

On those days when you're just not feeling cheerful about going to work it's all the little things that just keep piling the shit on top. I feel the love, I do. It's the two seconds of reprieve between the slaps to the face we enjoy on a regular basis.