Fat, Fuckin' Secretary

(by Hex-Girlfriend, visit her blog Hexus-Nexus)

Lucky is the one these days that lands a job and keeps it for years and years without so much as a write-up for wearing flip-flops one time in the summer when it was so hot the thermometer broke and the rest of the shoe-clad minions suffered the heat with spontaneous combustion-inducing temperatures.  “Unlucky” would be the one who joins the team after Fat Fuckin’ Secretary is set in her anal-retentive, short-tempered ways and parks her high-horse in the Executive Lot and feeds it all apples off the company tree just because she fuckin’ feels like it and nobody will tell her shit.  “Boo” would not be the thing to speak to Fat Fuckin Secretary when you’re agitated and distressed over some unfairness that is unfair because it goes against the Golden Rule of Employee Handbook.  “Handbook” is in an ever-changing state of revision so like going to the dentist you just sit and swallow.

Fat Fuckin’ Secretary can book a meeting with you to go over your weekly workload because she’s been here since the dawn of Creation and needs to know whenever you leave your desk to sneeze or pee.  Of course it’s out of concern and consideration for YOU that this meeting is requested and booked for the same time each week.  It’s to “assist” with anything that may or may not be urgent for which SHE will make the determination of such.  She is the expert, of course, from which you will learn all things.

Never-you-mind that on the first of such meetings, she refused to sit her ass down politely like a normal person, proceeded to nit-pick through every bit of paper, stressed-out over and criticized each item which she did not recognize and basically worked herself up into a froth for which there was no umbrella big enough. When she was halted in her criticisms and told pretty much to forget it if this was the purpose of such meetings, Fat Fuckin’ Secretary stormed out of the office trailing a firestorm of expletives behind her for which she certainly used those Puppet-Master hands of hers to get The Boss to type bad things in your Performance Review.  Then she deleted each and every consecutive weekly meeting from her calendar and yours.

Did Fat Fuckin’ Secretary ever get a write-up for the unprofessional act of screaming and cursing?  Hell-to-the NO-she-DIDN’T!  Fat Fuckin’ Secretary is pretty much untouchable – she’s got the power to put up her I’m-so-fantastic, I-do-it-all-for-pretty-much-everyone, I-dare-you-to-fault-me-for-taking-90-minute-lunches “Reprimand-Shield” at will.  You can try to “fire” if you like, but if your blows don’t bounce directly off of her then they will surely bounce off The Boss whom she has molded into the super-dependent lump of clay that he is.  He is nothing without his Fat Fuckin’ Secretary.  

So, it was NOT the Founder or Executive Director of Supercompany who changed the dress code to prevent all secretaries from displaying “any works of body art or piercings” – it was Fat Fuckin’ Secretary.  Never mind that the 200 counselors, instructors and interns canSTILL freely walk around campus with full arm sleeves, wrists, hands knuckles, lips, noses and necks adorned.  Fat Fuckin’ Secretary can make each and every Secretary and Desk Clerk remove every glint of metal or gemstone no matter how microscopic and wear ¾ sleeves in 110-degree weather if she wants to because she is: FAT FUCKIN’ SECRETARY.  (*And we’re also pretty sure that Fat Fuckin’ Secretary can call you in privately so as not to embarrass you in front of Supercompany and send your sweaty-ass home for lack of hygiene while you’re forced to wear those ¾ sleeves on the hottest day of the year.)

Similar thing for the change-in-dining-room-policy – That email did NOT come from the Executive Director. Fat Fuckin’ Secretary (or Puppet-Master in this case) either shoved her claw-appointed hand up his ass or sat at his desk and used his email for her own satisfaction.  So at this point in time, nobody in Supercompany is permitted to remove any foodstuffs from said Dining Room; that is, unless one wishes to get slapped, punched in the arm or yelled at by Fat Fuckin’ Secretary.  We are a sort of casual, friends-and-family Supercompany which is probably why Fat Fuckin’ Secretary got away with such behavior.  She’s sort of like the drunk Grandma who’s been around so long that everyone is used to her drunken rants and bad behavior – we just laugh about it afterwards like enabling family-members. Has anybody ever heard of the Department of Labor? 

In closing, and just FYI in case you didn’t get it yet – Fat Fuckin’ Secretary is an ever-changing kaleidoscope of moods and emotions which she brandishes like a faulty wand or whip.  “CRACK!”   Rules good for one department or person are not necessarily applicable to every department or person.  This could be based on the smell of the wind, the direction in which the cream swirls in her coffee or whether her biscotti-count was off by possibly one which for all you know might be blamed on YOU.  So watch out, hide your crumbs, don’t clock in or out within the “Red Zones” and leave your .75mm micro nose-pin at home.  We wouldn’t want to twist the moods of the Fat Fuckin’ Secretary.