PULL MY FINGER - feb. 2000
Shannon Michele Johnston


      Since this is a rant page, and since I have had a lot on my chest (figuratively speaking) for the last ten months, I thought I would rant about my last job.
     No career move, but an income...well, sort of...and a pit-stop between homelessness and law school (didn’t know it wouldn’t be the latter).
     A mid-growth company, servant to one of our best known corporate giants specializing in the “perfect puter”, and sister, or maybe step-sister to another of our corporate giants specializing in getting things to your door. And the first thing they train you to say is, “use my tongue please...toilet paper is far too rough.”
     Employees in large corporations, at no matter what skill level, are like kleenex, unless, of course, you are one of those employees that has mastered the art of “rectal rimming”. I don’t kiss ass, or brown-nose OR rim rectums, so sit down and shut the fuck up!
     Anyway, this company had a blow and throw policy. Speaking of blow, the Plant Manager, Bob, is that legal? To mention a person’s name? Well, just in case it ain’t I will call him Peter.
     I never saw him do much except sit in his office at his computer on chat and give an occasional speech. The thing I did see him do a lot, however, was take the Human Resource Supervisor out to lunch. Her name was Tammy...oops...let’s call her, hmm, she reminds me of a...well...a cross between a Sally and a May, so let’s call her Sally May.
     So anyway, Peter and Sally May were always in Bob’s, I mean, Peter’s office with the door locked. Hmmm, wonder what they were doing in there. In spite of the non-fraternization policy signs posted throughout the plant I know they were fucking.
     Tammy, er, I mean, Sally May was probably sucking Peter’s peter. I could see this by the cum-sucking grin on her face each time she silently emerged from Peter’s office looking all dreamy eyed.
      It just gripes my ass when the rules apply to everyone else but that selective group. You know the ones. They are always chatting with the boss, hanging out in the office, sitting on the computer with chat minimized at the bottom of the screen. You just wanna say, “are YOU fucking him too?”
     But you turn the other cheek, cuz if you don’t then you get singled out. I couldn’t live by the kissassment policy. I just couldn’t become a quivering dog with my tail between my legs licking the asses of those that ruled. I did my job. That is what I was there to do. Work and keep my tongue in my mouth.
     I swear, the first page of the Employee Handbook should say, “Butt-nubbing is required, a little dick sucking and pussy licking won’t hurt either.” After working there for about a month I started looking for little worn spots on the tops of people’s shoes in order to be armed with that crucial knowledge who is sucking the bosses dick, so not to slip and say something stupid.
     So, we were all standing in a group one day discussing the evils of inventory when, I swear to God, the tongue of a supervisor came flying out of his mouth sailing like a whip in the air, crossing a distance of about ten feet and cleanly swiped ole Bob right between the butt cheeks. The same supervisor that was, and I quote, “dumber than two boxes of rocks.” But the man possessed a skill. I looked down at the tops of his shoes and saw holes wore clear through each one.
     The kissassment policy became more and more apparent to me the longer I worked there, I really cared about my job too. I really cared about doing a good job. I really cared. I really did. Til one day.
     The day that “Little Hitler” came. Short guy, with a voracious craving to have the human tongue stuck chronically up his bung hole. Each time he said something to me, I had to bite mine. Not to keep it from giving him the corporate ass-lickin’ but to keep it from saying, “too many tongues in there already Ken, mine won’t fit.”
     That was the beginning of the end which really turned out to be the beginning of something more beautiful. I finally got enough, and mentally practiced what I would say the next time the little bastard came up to me and opened his mouth. I finally told him to fuck off. I was subsequently escorted to Peter’s pumpkin and relieved of my job.
     So, fuck you all. Fuck your kissassment policy that prevails all others. Fuck your nepatistic bullshit. Fuck you, fuck you and fuck you too.
This is a free country, unless you work for a corporation

Shannon Michele Johnston

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