The Brit's Coworker Hell: My Boot, His Ass

I work with morons. 

One specifically.

Remember Phil?

His laziness has gotten worse, and I'm about ready to sink my eight-and-a-half-wide sneaker so deep into his ass that when he talks, literal shit comes out instead of the figurative shit that emerges whenever he opens his blowhole.

Let's set the scene here.

Rude, merrily as a schoolgirl, has skipped away to a long weekend up north with his family. He told us he left enough $1s, $5s and change to see us through.

He didn't.

Those $1s and $5s were gone in a single day. I had been working with Trip all weekend and we've become good friends, so it was rather enjoyable.

Then Monday rolls around and I find I'm working with Phil. We don't really interact, so I went about my opening stuff, sat down and started to enjoy my fifth re-read of A Song of Ice and Fire. Customers start to trickle in and I help them.

I notice the register now has less than $10 in ones, and I take $40 out of the register so that Phil can go to the bank and get us what we need. Except no one knows where Phil is. He's not in the bathroom, nor outside.

Meanwhile a steady stream of customers is coming through the door and the dollar bills are dwindling. I text him twice, no answer. He finally emerges from the ladies' bathroom for some ungodly reason, and stares at me.

"Phil, we really need ones. Can you go out and get them real quick?"

"Sure," says he, then immediately fucks off to the back and half-heartedly does dishes. It's taking all of my self-control not to screech at him like a harpy, so I settle for the gritted teeth approach.

"Phil," I say as sweetly as I can while wishing he would implode, "Why are you still here?"

"I'll get them on my next delivery."

He fucks around with the soapy water for a few more minutes

. I check the computer and see there are no deliveries on the board.

"Phiiiiiiiil, when IS your next delivery?"

I ask, folding my arms.

"They haven't called yet so I don't know."

Splish splash.

It was at that moment that Night on Bald Mountain started playing, the sky grew dark and I transformed into Beelzebub. I breathed fire on Phil, melting his face, then took shrieking to the skies, destroyed Slemslations with my devil-puke, then disappeared into the night, leaving havoc and destruction in my wake.

Well, I wish I did. In reality I just snapped at him to get going then went and sulked.

Love, kisses and DUUUN DUUUUUUN DUNDUNDUNDUUUUU DUNDUN,

--TheBrit

 

Comments

[The Last Archimedean]

I assume you'll tell Rude to fire Phil the second Rude gets back.

[TheBrit]

You assumed correctly. But Rude never listens.

[The Last Archimedean]

Maybe you could get a friend to fire AT Phil, then. Problem solved.

[j/k! I would bever actually advocate killing as a solution.]

[The Last Archimedean]

That should be "never" actually advocate.

[NC Tony]

TLA: Does that mean I should put my gun away?