Spleen Venting: Office Politics...

I am working late and waiting for the lift to take me to the top floor to get coffee and chocolate, my diet of choice when I'm knackered and in need of a caffeine/sugar rush to get me through the final hours of a press day.

The lift arrives and I press the button for the top floor. As the lift doors start to close what can only be described as a twattery of marketing types and fashion girlies enter. They then repeatedly start ramming the button to take the lift to the ground floor. Bear in mind I've already pressed the button to go the top floor and it is already lit. This is a sign to all lift users of where the lift intends to go. Even stupid people know this.

The doors then close and the lift begins its ascent to various moans of 'Why's it going up?' or 'I thought you pressed the ground floor button?'

There is debate and astonishment and anger towards the original button-presser. I am annoyed and think bad thoughts, then as I exit the lift I hear it go silent.

I then realise that the phrase 'Brain-dead cunts...' that I thought I'd only uttered in my head had actually escaped from my mouth.

I ponder for a moment. What to do? I may have offended people. And that's bad. But then I figured 'Fuck 'em. They deserve to know the truth. Perhaps if more people had actually told them the truth about themselves and their idiot opinions they'd be better and nicer people. I'm actually doing a form of community service by finally giving them a clearer picture of themselves.'

So I smiled to myself and headed for coffee and chocolate, the friend of the profanity-uttering chief sub on press day. My good deed for the day was done and I'd helped make the world a better place. Hurray for me. Probably...