I’ve been spending a lot of time at work, doing work-related things, but not really getting to the heart of the work matter.
That’s longhand for “I’ve been sitting in a lot of meetings.”
Yesterday, in the midst of a host of questions regarding the differences between an HSA and a PPO health plan, I decided that Hell might be one long corporate benefits meeting. It was easily as hot in the board room.
This morning as I tried to wrap my brain around the barrage of clusterfucked emails between creative services (where I reside) and management, I decided Outlook would be a resident of Hell too.
All of this got me thinking about The Divine Comedy, which, in my opinion is one of the most intriguing works a person can read. So to entertain myself this afternoon (in yet another meeting), I concocted my own nine rings of Hell. Because I figure if Hell exists, Satan tailors shit to your specifications.
Ring One: Gilbert Gottfried repetitively shrieking out the words I most detest. These would include:
- irregardless (a double-negative and NOT a word)
- corporate buzzwords; dovetail, synergy, empower, facilitate, intimate, bandwidth, mission critical application, etc.
Ring Two: Hanging out for eternity with an ineffectual, incessantly throat-clearing co-worker. Who thinks it’s okay to use the “n” word, especially if she’s just talking about my black cat.
Ring Three: Eating McDonalds all day, every day.
Ring Four: Hippies.
Ring Five: Debating the scientific facts of global warming with my know-nothing uncle who drives a semi-sized SUV and constantly tells me that I need to “read more and listen less.” (He clearly doesn’t know what I do for a living.)
The upside to Ring Five is that I would finally have the cajones to say, “Look. I can’t have a serious discussion about the state of the world with a grown man who wears Goofy on his clothes.”
Ring Six: Big, beefy perverted gym guys + male construction workers. Long stares and cat calls make me irate.
Ring Seven: Track. Skills be damned, I hated track. I’d rather have a pap smear than go to track practice.
Ring Eight: Ted Haggard, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, John Ziegler and various other conservative, hypocritical fucktards. (Sorry. That Haggard pic still makes me laugh.)
Ring Nine: The world’s most heinous dermatological clinic that plays to my serious phobia of skin rashes and weird patterns.
Admittedly, my nine rings mostly have to do with serious pet peeves and annoyances. But if they were clever in Hell, that’s how they’d work things. Like chinese water torture: it can’t kill you but by god, you want to kill yourself. Only you can’t. ‘Cause you’re dead. Sucka.