Pardon the belch

I recently had a tiny falling out with a group of co-workers at the place where I work. I noticed what in my line of thinking was a terrible flaw in their work, and in no uncertain terms – via analog intranet (written journal) – did I tell them just what I thought of that flaw. They took it to heart – not the message though, only my tone while journaling – and it resulted in me being verbally chastised by my boss. When he mentioned what I saw, he reassured me in vague terms that matters were not only being handled as of now, but in fact the handling of the situation had already taken place, so what I saw didn’t even exist. The flaw did not exist.

The hole I saw in the resident’s hand, where the pink had faded into a small, puffy, white cloud saturated with moisture but devoid of air did not exist.

The fixed thumb which dug into into the palm of his hand did not exist.

While lifting his thumb away from his palm the scent of rotting flesh did not emerge.

While accidentally squeezing his thumb, blood did not trickle out from underneath every corner of the nail of the finger.

My boss is wise. He knows that what I saw did indeed not take place, so therefore no reason exist to correct improper work behavior… except my tone of writing. You have to be kind to the people you work with. You cannot go around telling off other people. Other people do not make mistakes. Only my tone of writing is wrong.

In a flash of a daydream I saw my colleagues standing on the rim of a volcano, arms outstretched, index finger at point, shouting towards the maw of magma, in a harsh tone telling the volcano to stop being so pissy! Im a volcano, so I don’t fucking care at that point. I cannot avoid the belch of lava, so I scorch the motherfuckers.

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