I am sick. I hate being sick. It ruins my day, I sneeze 1,000 times, I blow my nose constantly, and I am a baby. I have a standard head cold right now, and I am acting like it's the end of the world. Good news for you all though, when I am sick I become extra hateful. And since I had to work late all last week while being sick, I am VERY VERY hateful. What better day to hate than a Monday?
As my friend Red Redding once said:
"Let me tell you something my friend.
HopeHate is a dangerous thing. HopeHate can drive a man insane."
After The Jump, I'll tell you what I hate today.
I hate when my superiors make me print things. There is nothing more demeaning or obnoxious. I always want to say "what would you do if I weren't here today?" Are you incapable of holding Control & P? It's particularly obnoxious now because personal computers have been part of the corporate world for more than 20 years. ALL OF YOU KNOW HOW TO PRINT. And then I start thinking about when my superiors are home with their precious little snot nosed kids I have to hear about all the time. What happens when little Tommy has to print his stupid report on the Revolutionary War? Do you make him print it himself? How does he learn how to print reports if you don't know how to? In other news, I assume that I will make my underlings print crap for me all the time when I get older, just because I am a dick.
I hate when I am at a restaurant and the waiter doesn't write my order down. I'd say 60% of the time this type of waiter gets my order wrong. It happened to me last week. I seem to encounter these types of waiters way more often in New York than when I was in DC. I don't know if this is because there are more douchebags working in the service industry in New York or what, but I can tell you that I am not impressed with your ability to remember that I want no onions on my hamburger. In fact, all it does is stress me out because I feel like there is no shot that you actually get my order right. Your job as a waiter is to get my order right, not wow me with your ability to remember seven different orders. I don't care if it makes your job more interesting or challenging to remember my order. I don't care if it's a way for you to practice your memorization skills for your different dumbass auditions you do during the day. All I know is your tip is going to get sliced in half because you are so keen on remembering my order instead of writing it down. And do you know what happens when your tip gets sliced in half? You make less money. And when you make less money, your rent checks will be harder to pay. And when your rent checks are harder to pay, it will become harder to live in this city. And when it becomes harder to live in this city, your dreams of becoming the next Zac Efron become less likely. Soon you will go back to your podunk town far from New York with your tail between your legs, another actor's dreams dashed. All because you didn't write down my order and I had to peel off the onions myself.
I hate people who aggressively laugh in my face. I probably only encounter this at work because I refuse to surround myself with aggressive laughers in my personal life, but I can't control the aggressive laughter at work. What I mean by aggressive laughers are those people who stare you dead in the eyes while they are laughing, and do it for like five minutes straight. I am a light laugher, and I think laughing is a personal experience. If I find something funny, I will have a little chuckle, and then I get on with my life. But I can't do that when the person I am laughing with is putting pressure on me to laugh even harder because she is STARING ME DEAD IN THE FACE. I get it, you think it's funny, I thought so too, but stop staring at me making me feel uncomfortable because I can't laugh uninterrupted for five straight minutes at a YouTube video. Leave me alone and laugh by yourself you psychopath.
Finally, I hate when people talk about work outside of work. I leave work to not think about work and when you talk about work, it makes me think about work, and I hate work. Unless you are a professional athlete, porn star, or the President of the United States, I do not care to hear about your work. Actually, I probably wouldn't even ask Obama about his work, because foreign crises and politics bore me, so scratch him off the list. I sure as hell don't give a crap about what your students did today, what case you are working on, or what deal you are doing. It may seem like the most interesting thing in the world to you, and if so, I am happy that you are able to enjoy work that much. But I hate everything, and I definitely hate your job, so stop talking about it and let me enjoy my Mike's Hard Lemonade.
Hate away children. 'Cuz ain't no party like a hate party 'cuz a hate party don't stop.