Chad’s Reviews

I Guess It’s Okay If It’s For Medical Purposes
Last night I come home after a seriously crappy day of scanning files ready to pound a few Bud Ices, watch some UFC Unleashed and pass out.

I open the front door and walk toward the bathroom because I made the horrible mistake of not taking a leak before I left work and then getting caught in some serious traffic because a frickin’ guy dressed as a clown broke down on the side of the freeway and everyone on the frickin’ 405 South had to slow down to look at him.

So my bladder’s at full boil when I walk into the bathroom and see something that my eyes are still burning from. My roommate, Carl, is naked, squatting over the toilet with a can of Lubexxx Mr. Ease Anal Spray, 0.5 Fluid Ounces pointed into his butthole, and he’s spraying away.

I’m like, “Hi.”

He doesn’t even stop spraying the Lubexxx Mr. Ease Anal Spray, 0.5 Fluid Ounces. He just goes, “Hey, what’s up?”

So I’m like, “What are you doing?”

He goes, “I’m lubing my ass.”

I’m like, “Carl, I don’t care if you’re gay, but I’m not cool with you lubing up your ass with the bathroom door open.”

He goes, “I’m not gay, dude. I have an anal fissure.”

I go, “What?”

He’s like, “I was pushing out a rock hard log last night and I felt something tear. It turns out the turd was way bigger than my butthole and I tore it a little bit. So I went to the doctor this morning and he gave me some suppositories. But then when I tried to put one in, it tore the fissure open even wider. So the doctor recommended that I use some anal lube before trying to put in another one. So here I am.”

I’m like, “Jesus Christ.”

He goes, “I know.”

He leaves the bathroom a few minutes later and I go in to take the piss I’ve been holding in for the last hour. As I’m watching my pee go into the toilet, all I can think is that Carl’s greasy butthole was hovering in the same air molecules that my unit is now occupying. Life is frickin’ crap.

Holy Frickin’ Crank – I Have A Frickin’ Doppelganger
This morning I’m just sitting there scanning in some old files and this douche from legal named Sam Raigg comes up to me with this book and he tosses it down on my desk and he goes, “Pretty racy stuff. I didn’t know you wrote books in your spare time.”

I go, “What?”

He’s like, “Congrats, seriously. Pretty impressive to have written an entire book.”

So I look down at this book - The Average American Male: A Novel (Paperback) by Chad Kultgen. WTF? The dude who wrote this thing has my exact same name. I figure this warrants a fifteen minute break to check out some crap on the internet, which is a long an involved process that, since the big downsizing and new management implementation, requires you to get clearance from a special Internet User Manager named Gina Greene.

So I take the book with me as evidence of how frickin’ bizarre this is and I’m like, “Gina, check this out. Some guy wrote a book who has the exact same frickin’ name as me. I have to get on the internet and see what in the hell is going on right now.”

I’ve known Gina for a long time and even though she’s not really hot, she is a pretty cool chick. So I know she’ll help me out. She types some crap into her computer and prints out a little piece of paper with a username and a password on it, then she goes, “That’ll give you fifteen minutes on the computer at your desk.”

So I go back to my desk and start googling this guy. Holy frickin’ crank. Not only do I find out there’s some guy with my name who writes crap like books and tv shows and movies and crap like that. There’s also a dude with the same name who does like illustrations or something. And there’s some other dude with the same last name who is like a professor or some crap and there’s a car dealership in Waco, Texas owned by some dude with my last name. Kultgen is a pretty uncommon last name to say the least and there’s a whole frickin’ clan of them out there in the world doing crap.

My fifteen minutes of internet access expires but I don’t go back to scanning crap. Instead I crack open this guy’s book. I figure I owe him that much at least for having my exact same name. Holy frickin’ crank – this book is frickin’ badass on the highest order. It’s all about skanks and skanks with fat asses and all kinds of frickin’ seriously cool crap.

I will probably have to have a few half-hour crapper sessions later today to buy myself some more time to read it. I was seriously afraid the book would suck and this dude with my same exact name would bring shame to our name, but instead he has elevated it.

I, Chad Kultgen – office file scanner and menial cog in the corporate machine, salute you Chad Kultgen – author of the skank filled book The Average American Male. Your work gives our name greater glory.

Worth Every Frickin’ Penny
Friday afternoon I got an e-mail from this guy Don Marquis who used to work in sales until he got canned with a bunch of other people last week in the big restructuring. The e-mail is like:

“Fellow recently unemployed friends and fellow friends who still work for the worst f**king place on the planet, join us for a celebration on Friday night at Applebee’s in Woodland Hills. Some of us will be celebrating our newfound freedom while others will be lamenting their continued slavery but celebrating their resultant paychecks.”

I know for a fact there are at least three smoking hot skanks who got canned last week that will almost definitely be there and if they are there, they’re going to be drinking so heavily that I might have a shot. I get so frickin’ pumped up about it that I don’t even take off my frickin’ tie when the whistle blows on Friday. I just get in the old Honda CRV (blue) and race my ass over there, ready to slam back some Bud Lights and see what path the combination of jobless desperation and booze can lead a skank down.

I get there and Don Marquis is already blasted. P.S. It’s literally like 5:15pm. He’s like, “Nice tie working man. We’ve been here since 4 and we ain’t leavin’ until 2, so get a f**king seat and start drinking.”

I have no problem following his instructions because this skank who used to work in marketing named Elisa Duvaine is working on her third mojito and there’s a seat open next to her. I sit down, get a Bud Light and go, “Elisa, how’ve you been?”

She’s like, “Pretty good I guess. You?”

I’m like, “They have me working on a special project so pretty good.”

She goes, “Sounds great. Good for you.”

I’m like, “Yeah.”

Then I end up just staring at her cones for like the next minute or two while she looks around the bar and we don’t say anything to each other. Then she gets up and goes across the room to sit down with some douches I’ve never seen before.

I talk up some other skanks throughout the course of the night with pretty much the same results. Frickin’ skanks.

As the night winds on the I’m easing down my tenth Bud Light or so, I start to notice it’s pretty much just me, Don Marquis and a few hardcore drinkers left in the place. We’ve all somehow wound up in this big booth and Don Marquis is talking about what a badass he was in college. He’s like, “When I got drunk my thing was I’d do anything for twenty bucks. Anything. This one time I left this chick kick me square in the balls for twenty bucks.”

Most people at the table aren’t buying it. There’s a lot of “Bullshit,” and “Whatever,” flying around the booth. That’s when I look down and see some frickin’ Cayenne Pepper, Red, Ground 90,000 HU, 1.6 oz. and I get an idea.

So I pour out a pretty generous pile of pepper from the Cayenne Pepper, Red, Ground 90,000 HU, 1.6 oz., use an edge of the plastic menu to line it up nice and I’m like, “Marquis, I’ll drop you a twenty spot right now to snort this.”

I was pretty sure he would outright refuse or there would at least be some back and forth where I had to convince him to relive some of his glory days to prove his wasn’t a complete pussy. Instead, the frickin’ guy just goes, “You got the twenty?”

I toss a twenty out on the table, he rolls it up into a little tube and uses it to frickin’ snort the entire line of Cayenne Pepper. WTF?

Everybody at the table is pretty much in shock, wondering if we need to be calling an ambulance or anything, just basically waiting for his nose to start bleeding or for him to start screaming or something. Instead he’s just like, “Holy shit. That burns like a bitch.”

Don Marquis, I salute you. You are truly a badass.

My New Best Frickin’ Friend
So today was the first day for the new Lonnie whose name is Les. And today Les’ first duty was to sit me down for three hours and explain exactly what it was that I was supposed to be doing on my “special project.” Before I eve get started, let’s just say that Les is two to three times the douchebag Lonnie was.

In our meeting the first thing he asked me was where I got my tie. I was like, “I don’t know, the mall probably.” Then he goes, “Was it a homeless mall?”

That’s literally the first thing my new boss said to me, then he chucked me in the shoulder and was like, “Just kidding, just kidding. I wore ties like that too before I became management.”

I seriously almost jumped out the frickin’ window and took him with me. But everybody, myself included is still pretty shaken up from this whole layoff thing so we’re all pretty much going to have take as much dick in the butt as they can cram in.

So after that he opens up this file that has one piece of paper in it and he goes, “Okay so I have here, the details of a special project that you’ve been assigned to. It’s not a difficult project, but it is one that requires a great deal of concentration and attention paid to detail.”

I’m sitting there thinking he’s going to have me washing his car in the parking lot or some crap, but it’s even worse than that. He tells me this, “This company has an entire half a floor devoted to storing paper versions of client files that started being accumulated in 1982. In an effort to make this company more Carbon friendly, the decision has been made to eliminate these hard copy files.”

This has been something that I’ve been trying to get this company to do for years. We have all of the files we still deal with on a giant database. Nobody even looks at the paper files anymore. So I’m sitting there thinking I’m just going to have to make a phone call to a paper shredding service or some crap. Not so bad right, wrong.

Les goes, “Now we know we don’t want these hard copies around anymore, but we also can’t completely get rid of them. So what you’re going to be doing is scanning them into a brand new server. Pretty cool, huh?”

Pretty cool? Am I in the third grade or something, douche? So I’m like, “What do you mean scanning them in?”

He goes, “Well, we found it in the budget to get you a brand new scanner. Top of the line Brother MFC-8870dw 30ppm Wireless Network Multifunction Laser Printer with Duplex Printing, Copying, Scanning and Faxing it says here, and you’ll be taking the old paper files a page at a time and scanning them in so we have a graphic representation of the old hard copies.”

It would take one guy like 30 years to do all of that. So I’m like, “Is anyone helping me?”

He goes, “Of course. I will. We don’t expect you to do this all by yourself. When you get a file all scanned in, I’ll log into the new server and make sure it looks okay, make sure all of the pages are there. That type of thing.”

I don’t even know what he said next. This is seriously the equivalent of being sentenced to hard labor. They told me to take an early lunch and then when I get back, they’re going to have some douche from IT show me how to operate the Brother MFC-8870dw 30ppm Wireless Network Multifunction Laser Printer with Duplex Printing, Copying, Scanning and Faxing.

The Golden Ticket
Long story short, our company got bought out by one of those huge mega-conglomerate companies about a month and a half ago and it frickin’ sucks. So for the past 6 weeks every douchebag in the place has been walking on eggshells, trying to stay off the radar of these restructuring specialists who were brought in by the mega-conglomerate.

Over the course of these past 6 weeks, pretty much everyone from the division heads all the way down to frickin’ Ernesto, our facilities guy, has been brought in for performance evaluations, productivity suggestion sessions, general psyche evaluations, etc. It’s been really frickin’ nerve racking.

So yesterday they (the restructuring specialists) called everyone into a huge company wide meeting at about 3 o’clock. They thanked us for being patient with them and told us all that their job was done. They had turned in their recommendations to the mega-conglomerate and by tomorrow (this morning) everyone would know exactly what was going on. Then when we got back to our desks, we all had an inter-office e-mail from the mega-conglomerate letting us know we had the rest of the day off. We were all pretty much expecting to not have jobs this morning.

So we walk in and we notice that some desks have presents, literal frickin’ presents wrapped up with bows on them and some just have plain mega-conglomerate letterhead envelopes. Holy frickin’ crank.

I’m about to frickin’ drop a load in my pants trying to figure out what in the hell is going on. So before I get to my desk I go up to this dude in marketing named Jens Buerger. He’s got a present.

I’m like, “Jens, what’s in there.”

He goes, “Dunno.”

Then he opens it. It a little card that says, “Welcome to the team,” and a frickin’ book called Takeovers, Restructuring, and Corporate Governance, Fourth Edition (Hardcover). WTF? The card goes on to say that the mega-conglomerate received a strong recommendation they keep Jens on as an employee and they’re following that recommendation. The “strong” is the only part of the card that isn’t pre-printed like a normal card. It’s like it was printed in later. So at this point I’m assuming if you didn’t get a “strong” recommendation you’re pretty much frickin’ history.

So on my way back to my desk I pass this marketing skank named Justine Forney who just has an envelope. She’s reading it and crying, clearly crap-canned. I peek over her shoulder and see a basic form letter with the same variable type as the “strong” on the card except hers says “poor.”

So that’s how it’s going down. Present: you’re in, envelope, you’re out.

So I get to my frickin’ desk, pull my nuts out of my throat and don’t’ see a frickin’ present. Nuts back in throat.

So I go over and start rummaging around the files on my desk looking for the envelope, at this point just kind of wondering where on the scale between “poor” and “strong” I ranked, but I can’t find it.

No frickin’ Takeovers, Restructuring, and Corporate Governance, Fourth Edition (Hardcover) and no frickin’ envelope either. So I go into my boss Lonnie’s office to see what in the hell is going on and he’s packing his crap into a little box. Holy frickin’ crank.

I’m like, “Lonnie, what in the hell is going on.”

He’s like, “The specialists gave me a “sub-par” evaluation. I have to be out of my office in an hour.”

I know the guy’s a major league douchebag, but this is not cool or fun to watch in any way. So I’m like, “Holy crap, man, I’m sorry.”

He’s like, “Don’t worry about it. I already had a job lined up with Harring & Herman because I figured this would happen. I’ll be making roughly twice was I was making here.”

Frickin’ douche ‘till the end.

Then he’s like, “You staying?”

I go, “I don’t know.”

He’s like, “Did you get the book or the envelope?”

I go, “Neither. There wasn’t anything on my frickin’ desk. That’s why I cam in here – to see if you knew anything.”

He’s like, “Nope. Nothin’ here.” Then he packs up the last of crap, chucks me on the shoulder, says, “It was nice working with you. If you do stick around keep that head low. These new guys are some serious assholes,” then he walks out.

Holy frickin’ crank, I will never see frickin’ Lonnie again for the rest of my life. Then I start thinking about the possibility of me getting fired and then I start to realize at this point if I do get fired, my best bet for a new job would probably actually be Harring & Herman and then I’d be working for Lonnie again.

Oh sweet frickin’ crap, please let me get the book. That’s all I could think as I made my way down to HR to see what in the hell was going on. By the way, this was the worst trip of my life through the office. I’d say easily 20 percent of the people I’ve worked with for years were getting canned and I had to look at them as I went down to see what my fate was. Frickin’ sucked ass.

So I get to HR and I’m like, “So, I don’t know if I got canned or not.”

Then this skank named Sandy Duran is like, “If you got the copy of Takeovers, Restructuring, and Corporate Governance, Fourth Edition (Hardcover) then you were not terminated. If you got a letter of termination then you are terminated. It’s not that hard.”

I have hated this skank for the entire time I’ve known her and I’m pretty sure I figure if Lonnie got the axe I probably will, too, so I’m like, “Listen you stupid skank, you think I’d be down here talking to your shriveled tits if I had gotten either one of those things?”

She goes, “You didn’t get Takeovers, Restructuring, and Corporate Governance, Fourth Edition (Hardcover) or a letter of termination?”

I’m like, “No.”

Now this skank has worked with me for around five years. She actually goes, “And what’s your name?”

I almost put my foot through her frickin’ butthole. Instead, I tell her my name and she looks me up in the system. She says, “Oh. I see.”

I’m like, “You see what?”

She goes, “You are still an employee and the specialists recommended you for a special project.”

I’m like, “What in the hell is that?”

She goes, “I don’t have the details here, but you should be getting a memo or an inter-office later today.”

I go, “So what in the hell do I do now?”

She goes, “I guess just go back to your desk and wait.”

So I get back to my desk, still no Takeovers, Restructuring, and Corporate Governance, Fourth Edition (Hardcover). So every other person that walks past my desk who got canned thinks I’m in their boat and starts telling me their story and all of this crap and I have to be like, “I didn’t get fired. I got assigned to some bullshit project or something. Good luck, though.”

Day one of the new company and already this crap frickin’ sucks.