Human-Resources Bitches Be Makin' Me Take Vacation Days - H.K.
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Human-Resources Bitches Be Makin' Me Take Vacation Days</H1><BR CLEAR="LEFT">
<B>By Herbert Kornfeld <BR>
Accounts Receivable Supervisor</B>
<P>
Heads up, G's, 'cuz tha H-Dog is in tha house, keepin' it real at Midstate
Office Supply, tha largest wholesale dealer of office supplies and business
machines in tha entire muthafuckin' Tri-State Area. </P><P>
Ain't no other office-supply wholesaler tha H-Dog would work for, and thas
no muthafuckin' lie. Say some sucka from Office Depot step up to me and
tell me, if you want a job in our Accountz Reeceevable Department wit' good
pay, holiday bonuses and comprehensive health coverage and dental plan and
shit, it be yours for the taking. I'd say, flag yo' red-polo-shirt-wearin'
ass outta my face before I Charles Bronson upside yo' bitch head, muthafucka.
Office Depot can go fuck theyselves, 'cuz Midstate is tha BOMB. </P><P>
You see, at Midstate Office Supply, I gots seniority and respect. People be lookin' to tha H-Dog
when they wants shit done right. Tha office comptrolla, Gerald Luckenbill, couldn't balance his
muthafuckin' books without me. My Accountz Reeceevable Posse, Gary and Gladys, they call me Tha
Troubleshoota, 'cuz ain't nobody figure shit out faster. </P><P> I gots
skillz, muthafuckas. Shit be COLLATED. Copier out of toner? I be all over that shit, 'cuz only I
can replace tha Hewlett-Packard toner cartridge without gettin' all that inky powder shit all
over tha insides. </P><P> I so phat, sometimes I gets done with my whole
day's worth of tasks by 2 or 3 o'clock. But after I do, do I go back to my crib and chill? Hell
no. I just open up tha afternoon mail what I usually be going through tha nextmornin', and I
start enterin' tha account payments on my accounts ledga. Or I assists tha Posse in preparin'
the monthly statements. You won't never catch tha H-Dog sleepin' on tha job, bruthas and sistas.
</P><P> But, yo, check this shit out. Last Friday, Bob Cowan in Human
Resources,he say I gots to kick back and chill for a coupla weeks, 'cuz I gots a buncha paid
vacation days accruing and shit. Now, at first I tells him hell no,'cuz I gots bidness to take
care of at tha office. Besides, I got it good at Midstate Office Supply. I gots my dope Lotus
software, my stoopid-fresh dry-erase markers, my fly three-ring binders wit' tha pockets inside,
and my own muthafuckin' men's-room key. Plus, all them fly Marketing Department hos wanna be
freakin' my jock all tha time. </P><P> But Cowan, he say all employees
gotta use they paid vacation time by the end of the year, or they lose it. So I just laughs at
tha fool. "You payin' me to chill?" I says. "Man, that's some straight-up wack
shit, sucka." </P><P> I be laughin', but, shit, I almost had to use my
Letter Opener Of Death when I learn who be takin' my place for a week: that old-ass muthafucka
Myron Schabe, tha Accountz Payable supervisor. Man, he belong in tha old people's home, wearin'
diapers and shit, but instead he be fuckin' wit' my flow and wantin' a piece of tha Accountz
Reeceevable action. But then I gots to thinkin': If Myron fuck shit up, who they gonna call?
Me. Thas right. Any way you cuts it, I gots them fuckas by tha BALLS.
</P><P> So, come Monday, instead of goin' to work, I jus' be chillin' at my
crib,livin' large and shit. I gots this dope one-bedroom apartment near tha interstate,and, man,
it be tha shit. It's all done up in muthafuckin' drywall. Ma carpet,it go from wall to wall. </P>
<P> But that ain't nothin' compared to the crazy phat shit I gots goin' on
in my kitchenette. Now, I don't need no muthafuckin' microwave, 'cause I be from the old school.
Instead, I gots me the dopest muthafuckin' hamburga sammich cooka you ever seen. You puts some
hamburga in the fuckin' thing,press this black metal shit on top, plug the shit in and let it
cook, andin three minutes you gots this mad stoopid cooked hamburga patty. Mix up some ramen
noodles and some cherry Kool-Aid, and you gots yo'self a MEAL,homeyz.
</P><P> So I be sittin' on my couch, eatin' this fly hamburga sammich off a
TV tray and watchin' <I>The Crier Report</I>, checkin' out Catherine from all sides. Man, that
ho got BACK. Bitch got tha C-cup action goin' under them rayon blouses of hers. I just about to
jump into tha Nite Rida and drive down to tha TV station and sex up that fine ho when tha
muthafuckin' phone rings.</P><P> Shit, man. It be muthafuckin' Gerald
Luckenbill, tellin' me that the mainframecomputer crashed, and tha whole muthafuckin' network be
down. He say Tech Support think it be days before the computer be up and runnin' again, which
means tha Accountz Reeceevable Krew gots to enter data and prepare next month's account
statements by hand. </P><P> I don't needs to tell you what Luckenbill say
next. "Unfortunately,with the computers down, Myron has more work than he can handle,
supervising both Accounts Payable and Accounts Receivable," he tell me. "Herbert,
would you possibly consider returning to work this week and helping us out until the system is
up and running again? It would be a huge help."</P><P> Man, I just
be laughin' at tha fool. Didn't I say all them muthafuckas gonna be slippin' while I gone?
"Tough luck, sucka," I tell that sorry bitch Luckenbill. "Tha H-Dog be kickin'
his shit back this week. All y'all pitiful muthafuckas po'mouth tha H-Dog, but when tha shit go
down,y'all be runnin' scared and aksin' where tha H-Dog be at. Step tha fuck off, FOOL. H-Dog
over and OUT." And I slams down tha phone like a hard mutha fuck. </P><P>
Tha phone be ringin' ever since, but I ain't answerin'. But I just be playin' wit' them
suckas and psychin' them out: I be goin' in soon enuf. </P><P> But I want
all y'all to understand somethin'. I be tha NOTORIOUS BADASS MUTHAFUCKA of Midstate Office
Supply, and don't never fo-get that. Fuckerald Luckenbill, fuck Bob Cowan, and especially fuck
that sorry-ass, no-account-reeceeving Accountz Payable fool Myron Schabe. My Accountz Reeceevable
Posse don'tcall me Tha Troubleshoota for nothin'. Suckas think I be chillin', but Igots to
represent at all times, 'cuz ain't nobody else reeceeve accountz right but ME. So all y'all best
recognize tha H-Dog and give him his full props, 'cuz tha H-Dog can't be faded, G's. Word.
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