So I Guess That Makes Me the Bad Guy!
Jeez! What the fuck is wrong with everyone? Why does everyone walk around here like they have some sort of splintered stick up their ass?
All I know is that everyone around here looks at me like I’m the bad guy all of a sudden. Well excuse me, your highness! I thought this was an open environment where we could feel free to fully express ourselves.
I know for a fact that a lot of other people around this office have done some equally questionable things that might also raise some eyebrows, had I any interest in airing their dirty laundry in public.
For example, I saw that ass-clown Mike smuggle out two packs of Post-It notes in his briefcase last week, but you don’t see me looking down my nose at him. And quite frankly, Mike has a bad attitude, anyway. He’s been acting like a bitch ever since I tried to start that office death pool for his wife last fall. I mean, she’d been in a coma for almost four months! And if he hadn’t raised such a fuss I would have won a lot of money on that shit, too, because I took the under three weeks position, which means that Mike sort of owes me 40 bucks.
But I guess trying to foster a little office comradery makes me the bad guy!
Everyone around here is really just out to get me, I guess, regardless of what I do. So what if I made a screen saver with a picture of Tom’s son with Down Syndrome and added the caption: “Intelligent Design Fail”? I was just having a little fun! And they always say that it’s better to have these things out in the open rather than trying to hide and suppress them!
But I guess trying to lighten the mood and help Tom accept reality makes me the bad guy!
Let’s not even talk about how I recently went out of my way to special order a cake with Julie’s picture airbrushed onto it for her birthday. Do you know how much that cost? And so what if it was the mugshot from her DUI arrest last year—it’s not like everyone hasn’t seen it, especially after that mass email I sent out the following week. Those pictures are readily available through the county police website, and the little boy in the other car didn’t even die—he’s practically walking now!
But I guess trying to have a little birthday fun makes me the bad guy!
And honest to God, folks—everyone gets a little tipsy at the holiday office party! I know that I’m neither the first nor the last person walking this Earth to have overindulged at a holiday office party. But everyone has been pointing a collective finger of admonitory judgment squarely at me ever since last year’s party, and simply because I happened to have backhanded Susan while waiting in line at the buffet.
I mean, it’s not like I kicked her in the stomach, and she gave birth like a week later with no complications, so what the fuck does everyone have such a thorn in their craw for? I mean, the kid is probably going to turn out gay, what with her pussy-whipped husband and all, but that’s not my fault!
And yet I guess that still somehow makes me the bad guy!
That’s right! Standing by her side and helping her through her time of loss earned me their disapproval. And my impromptu eulogy provided some much-needed levity that day. All of the other speakers tossed out the same tired clichés, but I had the courage to add some life to that service by lightheartedly talking about her drinking habit, her third nipple, and her alleged lesbian affair with that 20 year-old runaway.
But I guess volunteering to deliver a nice eulogy makes me the bad guy!
Well, I’m sick and tired of it. I’m not the bad guy everyone makes me out to be—I’m just a little too real for most people to handle. Especially Brad Endelstein, who as the director of sales here acts like he practically runs the entire company. And I guess my little April Fool’s prank of putting a copy of Mein Kampf in Brad’s mailbox was, in the eyes of some around here, like an attack? I checked it out from the library, people! It’s called freedom of speech, and no fucking Bilderberger like Brad can stifle that!
But I guess I’m the bad guy for having a little fun in the name of our first amendment rights!
This is just like how everyone got bent out of shape at the office picnic party when I told those hilarious jokes while a bunch of us were standing by the pool. Everyone acted so offended by my Stevie Wonder jokes, but it’s not like Dwayne or Marshawn were even within earshot—they didn’t even hear the joke!
But I guess making one or two racist jokes makes me the bad guy.
So, whatever. Everyone else around here can just go ahead and continue to carry a chip on their shoulder simply because they haven’t got a sense of humor or any concept of good-natured fun. If that makes me the bad guy, then I’m glad I don’t conform to your uptight “rules” of behavior.