Dear Important Douchebag,
You might remember me, I've done a lot of the work that you and members of your group have passed off in communications to the customer as being your own work. I was a bit surprised when a customer contact looking for information came back to little old me. Because it seems like you sent them some instructions to use a piece of equipment provided by us and failed to indicate the part number or anything specific about that equipment. Then when you tell me it was a piece "made by engineering" I really have to wonder. Because I work in engineering and what we typical do here is put a fucking part number or name on something. We don't just make something and send it off to fairy land with nothing telling you what the hell it is or what you're supposed to use it on.
So when you calmly tell me there's no fucking part number I really have to wonder who's driving this thing and why some total fucking douchebag like you gets to take constant credit for my analysis and reports and then sends the customer a fucking instruction to use a fucking part that they have no fucking idea what it is. I'd really like your job because it probably pays 3-4x what I make and I wouldn't have to use my fucking brain which sounds great.
No fucking thanks to you asshole,
Your Mechanical Engineer
well...that should help get the anger out!
ReplyDeleteI sat in my cubicle one fine afternoon listening to a douchebag tell his boss about All The Great Ideas *HE* had recently (ya know, they popped out of some black hole somewhere magically, something they have never done before). Um, he parroted everyfuckingthing I told him about the project the week before while his boss was away, which put his widdle brain in a tizzy when he couldn't figure out something all by his lonesome. Dbag didn't give me any credit for his ass-wiping or any of the suddenly magical solutions he didn't think of. Dbag about died when I stood up in the middle of his Great Solution Explaining Adventures to his boss. I walked over to correct what *I* said originally (he was butchering my suggestions to all hell), and explained some analyses I know to both of them. Dbag then pouted for the next 10 minutes that his boss and I went back and forth on *MY* ideas. I walked his boss over to my cubicle to pull up some websites about what *I* was talking about as ways to fix the problem. Dbag was Dflated.
ReplyDeleteDbag slitered over to me a bunch of times asking for help after that, and I told him each time that he can surely figure his shit out for himself.
I'd like to send Dbags off to Fairyland.
jc