I hate the living fuck out of my boss because she can't manage a god fucking damned thing - every single email is her threatening to fire the entire fucking IT department over not filling out her current piece of misnamed paperwork. Today, it was "Project Plans" which for whatever fucking reason aren't plans at all, but the same fucking thing as the "Project Time Sheets" she was on to us about last week, which are prettymuch the same fucking thing as the "Work Logs" she was on about the week before that, which are deadly identical (except on letter paper instead of an index card) to our hourly workers' time cards. But yeah. Threatening to fire the whole fucking department over paperwork that most of us do as a condition of getting fucking paid anyway is real fucking motivating and good for fucking morale. Useless fucking pissflap cuntsack.
So, naturally, I've announced my intentions to leave the company, because I've had enough of her shit. I'm told by my surviving coworkers that I'll be missed - my constant fucking swearing about how much I hate that useless cunt (preferably within earshot of her. This is a bridge that I not only want to burn but want to light ABLAZE, and then fucking call the Department of Labor about some payment irregularities that I've noticed (THE FUCKING CUNT STIFFED ME A WHOLE WEEKEND'S OT PAY BECAUSE SHE TRIED TO CALL MY DESK "TO MAKE SURE I WAS WORKING" AND I DIDN'T ANSWER BECAUSE THE FUCKING PHONE NETWORK WAS OFFLINE FOR FUCKING SCHEDULED UPGRADES - WHICH I WAS FUCKING WORKING ON!)) is apparently the only thing keeping some of these other people sane - and they aren't confident enough to just quit and then go job-surfing.
In short, if it weren't for my motherfucking foul mouth, some of the brightest minds I've ever worked alongside would have probably hung themselves by their fucking ties (oh yeah. I forgot about the fucking UNIFORM TIES. With computers printed on them. There were matching shirts at one point, but I led the revolt against those. My tie is tied in a hangman's noose and currently dangles from the ceiling above the Helldesk - out of the useless cuntbag's reach. I don't even wear fucking dress shirts anymore.
And then there's the meetings with the bitch. Her personality is so absolutely abrasive it feels like sandpaper on your god damned nuts. She makes it a point to drag you into her office and shut the fucking door for positive things (which don't exist these days) and leave the door open and shout at the top of her lungs about disciplinary things. You should've heard her when I refused to sign the disciplinary form about my "fraudulent overtime" - on account of the fact that the security systems and a half dozen coworkers vouched for the fact that I was indeed present and that the phone system was indeed offline because we were indeed installing VoIP - god knows the rest of the building heard her - including HR, who promptly sent someone up to explain that what she's doing is A) Illegal and B) Against policy and will get her fired if I so much as breathe a word to the Department of Labor - which the HR weenies actually advised that I do (because they can't fire her for internal reasons relating to equal opportunity employment... she's apparently been diagnosed with about 808324883 different mental conditions that the company shouldn't and didn't know about, but she decided to make common public knowledge specifically so that, if she's ever dismissed, she can cry about it.
Ahhh, that was cathartic. Fuck my job. In 2 weeks, I'm out, in a month she'll be out, and I'll be working for one of our suppliers.