The Mail.

Man, did I fuck up the other day. I sent, yes that's right, I sent an ANGRY MAIL to EVERYONE at work. Pissed off like a cranky, pre-menstrual mother off the happy pill. It was a short “fuck you mother fucking lazy motherfuckers” kind of thing. No, I did of course not use exactly those words, but the message of obscenity was in there. The funny thing was, like, it was so irrational, so goddamned fucked up. I was raving about in my head like a mental patient, like I wanted to be committed into the straight jacket, drugged out of my mind and strapped up in the padded room.

I felt so righteous about it all when I really should have felt ashamed. But you know, it's always afterwards that you figure out that you have, totally, taken a swim in the piss-lake, lost your shinny marbles and stumbled on the path of life. I am by no means a perfect man, so I easily forgive myself for my faults.

But, back to the mail, what was it about? Can you guess? Some of my colleagues did not know how to use a hanger. So I wrote that I understood it could be hard to use the hangers in the morning and that it “do take a MENSA polluted brain to figure it out, how to hang cloths on a hanger”. It was such a build up from all that stupid shit you encounter all fucking week long and I snapped. And you know what, that was soooooo good, to be such a bitch.

It did get some attention among the colleagues, of course, and the boss sent me a mail stating the unnecessary distribution of this mail. I said OK and surrendered right away. Was that wrong? I mean, when you have already pissed your pants, do you need to shit your pants too and throw your sanity away by hollering at the boss as well? My balls ain't that big so I went with the flow of things and joined the "You made a fool of yourself" wave going through the building like a cool breeze.

Did I learn anything from all this? I guess not but I can really recommend it. Maybe it will get you fired, you lucky bastard. I didn't get fired though, it's not a cynical place I am at... let me refrain that, my bosses aren't, but I probably am, cynical to the bone. When at a previous job, where the bastards buying the factory smashed the place up like a fragile house of cards, I also sent a not so happy mail.... does this begin to seem like a pattern? I hope not. I borrowed a little fun from Eminem and directed my anger at the American firm destroying our living. It was:

“Let's get down to business,
I don't got no time to play around, what is this,
must be a circus in town, let's shut the shit down on these clowns,
can I get a witness, {hell yeah}”

But I changed it to “Oh yeah”, my balls ain’t that big.

*Postscript: The mail was written and sent to everybody back in April or whatever, but I didn’t think it would be a good post so I moved it into the scribble folder and picked it up again this week. Like wine it might be a bit richer in flavor over time, or it tastes more like vinegar now. I don’t know, but anyhow, this is it; The Mail.*