The bad things about Xmas

December 30, 2004 - 1:05 a.m.

<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Shitty Grinch-Scrooge Type People and More Math, Part 1.

An Open letter to the rich people I work for:

Dear Staff of 15 people , who make well over 6 figures apiece. We, the Creative Team of 6 people, want to thank you for you generous Christmas gift. Clearly, someone got the idea to take up a collection to buy a gift for the Creative Team, who saves your ass on a daily basis and makes a fraction of the salary that you do.

Someone: Hey everyone, let’s buy a gift for the Creative Team, who saves our asses daily!

(sounds of pooling money)

(discussion)

(collection of loose change)

Dear Creative Team,
We, the wealthy 15, would like to present you with this single box of cookies inside a cardboard Christmas house. You’re the best!
Love Always,
The Rich People.

Dear Rich 15,
We want to again thank you for your combined contribution of $20, which paid for the low-end gourmet Christmas Cookies from Trader Joe’s, and Snowflake Card. We know that everyone’s budget is stretched thin this time of year, and your individual contributions of $1.33 say much about our value to you and this company.
God Bless!
The Creative 6

Time for Math:
15 people x 6 Figure Salary = (minimum) $1.5 million yearly combined salary.

$1.5 million - $20 = $1,499,980

Don’t even get me started on percentages, because it’s probably something like .0015% and I don’t even want to think about that.

Part 2.

This year Belle informed me that he was not buying X-mas gifts for anyone because he’s completely broke, and I didn’t even think twice about it cuz I didn’t get him shit either, and he’s still a poor student.

But then last week I had lunch with him and he showed up dressed all stylin’ in new clothes, with Rocawear jeans and a COACH. BELT.

I said, “Is that a REAL Coach belt [$150]?”

“Yes.”

And then he was stupid enough to tell me that he had just bought himself a ton of new clothes and I was like, “Uh, you didn’t have money for X-mas gifts but you took yourself on a shopping spree???”

He told me to shut my nosey judgmental mouth, that it’s none of my business and he can buy whatever he wants and uh, all I gotta say is:

Dear Belle,

I smell your bullshit loud and clear and it stinks, my friend.

That’s some straight-up greedy shit, no lie.

Jackass,
Shawna.

Part 3.

I got a $10 gift card from a co-worker and it is good at Waldenbooks and Borders.

Would you like it?

Because even though it is just a bullshit $10, I won’t be using it as I recently added Borders to my list of People Who Should Die. A Corporation is legally a Person, chuno.

I can feel Belle’s fingers wrapping around my neck all the way from Spain. He hates me so much sometimes he chokes me with his gimp hands. He thinks I am Such a Fucking Asshole whenever I stop giving my money to certain entities after I discover something that I deem unethical and wholly corrupt. It INFURIATES him that I have the AUDACITY to go through life voting with my consumer dollar. That’s why I never talk about this shit.

But this time I’m taking a stand cuz there is nothing wrong with having convictions, and ya’ll could use a nice set of principles, you lazy fucking immoral monkeys. Shut the fuck up already and quit slinging your poo at me just because I make you feel like an unscrupulous asshole (Coach belt).

Seriously. A lack of a strong belief system is a sure sign of a LAZY MIND and is so stereotypically apathetic & selfish “American” I’m rolling my eyes into 2005. There’s nothing I hate more than a lazy mind and you can eat my ass with a spoon if you want to give me lip about it.

Long story short, do you want the card? Because some idiot already gave them $10 so you may as well go get a book out of it.

Part 4.

There is a ginormous Xmas display in the building where I work with the theme of Xmas Around the World. It is full of animatronic ethnic-looking children that are in fact all the same robot but painted different skin tones. They make the *zzt-zzt* mechanical noises and it is so 1982 Santa’s Village at the mall.

Arm: Up-down.
Head: Back-forth.
Arm: Up-down.
Pause.
Repeat.

There are robots that are displayed on top of the door that I exit out of every night and I can’t stop staring at the one on the right. S/he has long black hair, black eye makeup, and a white lace blouse. S/he leans forward slightly like s/he is watching over me as I leave work; my own guardian angel bidding me adieu.

“Adieu! See you tomorrow!” S/he dangles a big red ball from his/er arm.

Tell me this child robot does not look exactly like Michael Jackson.

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