Yes yes. All offices suck. Yes, all managers and bosses suck. They are all sadistic pieces of shit who suck your soul and make you bring their coffees and give handjobs. C’mon. That shit is everywhere. But that hardly makes your entire office suck donkey dick.
Now, it may seem like I’m trying to victimize myself here, but you have GOT TO BELIEVE ME when I say this – My office sucks. If the corporate world is the universe, then my office is a black hole. Nothing comes out of it alive.
For obvious reasons (one being me risking getting fired), I shall not tell you where I work. And God-forbid, if you do know that place, don’t tag that chut of a manager to this post. Please. Mere Rozi-Roti ka sawaal hai.
So, without further ado.
1. My office is hell for humor.
Everyday I have to dodge atleast 10 to 15 “babaji ka thullus” from here and there – managers to AGMs to normal execs. Fucking everyone has to make that joke at least once every fucking day. If not that, then there is always the continuous and excitable quoting of “Grand Masti” from here and there. Or there is the “Cha-U-Ki-Maatra, Ta-Ee-Ki-Maatra, Ya-Aa-Ki-Maatra” reference from SOTY. I mean what more do you need. No one understands Twitter. No one gets memes. And everyone likes Bakchod Billi and other such chutiya Facebook pages. I don’t think any other word describes them better, than Orkutiya.
2. If sexual harassment is a game, then my office is a playground.
“Bhai receptionist toh bhainso ki raand lagti hai.” I think this would have been enough to highlight everything but no.
Women are referred to as heaters. Yes. “Thand hai yaar. Kya karey?”
The only good-looking one (Kinda. No. Not really.) is described more commonly as “bhai, ye de de toh ghar baar bech du” (3 separate people. No shit!)
And “bhai uski toh shakal hi randi jaisi hai“. I never got this one. How does one’s face look like a whore. Help me out. No wait, don’t. I don’t want to know.
3. The favorite pastime.
Discussing adventurous stories of visits to brothels. Swapping stories of paid sexy-time. And exchanging photos of the same, on WhatsApp. This is done by pretty much all of them. Five or six of them are married, and have kids who would be watching porn in a couple of years. Sigh.
When they are not doing this, they hang around at “beer-bars” and exchange these stories more loudly and more proudly.
4. The ringtones.
No amount of ALL OF THE ABOVE can compare to the feeling that I get when 3 separate phones ring together with “Blue hai pani pani pani pani pani pani pani..” at the same fucking time. Add to that a 50 cent ka rap from one end, to a Sai Baba bhajan from the other, and my ears get caught in the cross-fire all the time.
Times like these makes me envy Jews from their Camp-Waale-Din.
5. The office boy has more aukaat than the employees.
The office boy has complete autonomy over the office. He gives you tea, when he wants to. And tea may either be a cup full of diabetes, or a cup full of post-gargle warm water, as per his whims. He does the “talk to the hand thing” and actually collects hafta on the purchase of Maggi.
I wish I had his job!
There are plenty more things to it, but revealing that may be considered borderline industrial espionage. For the time-being, I challenge you to find me an office that sucks more donkey balls and donkey cocks than this little shit-hole.
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