"I don't know why it's so impossible for everybody in this office to act like a goddamn adult." (via Thinkstock)
Hello, Kopencky Company Family!
HR here. Look, I give zero shits about what you guys do in your personal lives, but I get paid to be your work mommy because, for some reason, a group of adults can't manage to do things like not steal each other's lunches or touch each other's butts for the eight goddamn hours a day that they're in an office. You people are exhausting, and since you apparently need constant reminders in order to be decent human beings, here are some goddamn reminders.
Company fun run
Our insurance premiums are going to go WAY up if Don has another heart attack, and we can't tell him to his face to stop eating Cheetos (although whoever left him that anonymous note that I publicly denounced, please know that I privately agreed with you. STRONGLY). To that end, we're forcing everyone to exercise with this company-mandated “fun" run that almost all of you will find demeaning, embarrassing, and really just awful to participate in. Except Jill. WE ALL KNOW YOU RAN A MARATHON, JILL. SHUT UP ABOUT IT.
Bring your child to work day
It's next Tuesday. You are all welcome to bring your little shits, except for Stephen. I know you and your pale wife are doing that “no negative reinforcement" thing, but last year, all you said was “Great stream, buddy!" when your kid peed on my aloe plant. Never again.
Reminder 1: All employees who started before July 1, 2015 get four weeks worth of vacation a year; if you started after, you get two weeks of vacation a year.
Reminder 2: It was our jack-hole boss Mr. Kopencky who decided to cut vacation time in order to save money, not me, so taking it out on me will only make me hate you more.
Reminder 3: This also means that you shouldn't yell at me for: not getting a raise, no more free soda in the kitchen, the removal of vision and dental from the healthcare plan, and the fact that Mr. Kopencky will only let me buy a dozen doughnuts for “free doughnut Fridays," so that 41 employees have to rush to be the first to get 12 doughnuts. (Yes, I know there are 42 employees here. Allow me to point you to Jill's insufferable “Gluten Free IBS Runner" blog so you can also understand that she doesn't eat doughnuts because of "the shits.")
Some people have told me that the HR buzzwords can be confusing. That's because they're a way for HR professionals to thinly veil how we really feel so we don't accidentally yell “You're a childish asshole!" at our coworkers. Here are some definitions to help clarify things.
“My door is always open"
Mr. Kopencky won't let me shut my door, so you guys can always walk in. But please don't, because managing your dumb problems stresses me out to the point where I've had to learn how to cry silently, with no tears.
“Think outside the box"
You have bad ideas. I put your bad ideas all together in a box. Now, I want you to come up with good ideas. That means I need you to think outside of the box.
Getting results is your job. So when I say I want you to be “results driven," I'm saying “do your fucking job." Jill, that means do your job, not update your blog. Remember, we have tracking software on all the computers, so I know that you spent five hours researching "grain-free pizza" last Thursday.
The sign in the kitchen
I have overheard complaints that the dish-washing sign I put up is both condescending and passive-aggressive. I know it is, and I could change it to get at the real issue by saying, “You need to do your dishes because everyone else is sick of doing them for you, DAN." I don't think that Dan would like that, though, and he is Mr. Kopencky's nephew. Did I say “Mr. Kopencky's nephew"? I meant to say “Mr. Kopencky's shittiest nephew."
One other thing about the sign in the kitchen
Also, it's pretty funny that the sign is for Dan, considering that I know he's the one who drew a wang on the clipart man on it:
Speaking of that wang, we're having a sexual harassment seminar in two weeks, and you can all thank Dan for that. Jill, you are welcome to bring gluten-free snacks again, but I swear to god, if you bring grain-free pizza bites and they're just globs of cheese and sauce, I will tell everyone about your IBS, which you have told me way, way, way too many details about.
Remember, everyone, my door is always open!