Submitter: Vapid, Marco
So, just in case I do not make it through the night, I am putting this here. It is the only thing I currently have access to anyways. Today was my second week of my “punishment” night shift the old hag give me for calling her “sweetie” feeling all important in her skirt that doesn’t flatter her at all. Don’t know why the fem-nazi saw it as a big deal, but here I am. I was dying of boredom since the firewall was locked down on my first night. Apparently she was monitoring and the moment I started a movie on Hulu, it was locked down and I got a call reminding me.
After spending a week and a half reading offline on my phone since it’s not like I get even 3G to play Candy Crush, I decided to rummage through the closet, using one of the blades to pull up old backups. She thinks she so smart trying to bore me into submission, but I outsmarted the crone… I would pretend to do something productive, but one of these tapes probably has some dirt on it. I would get promoted and she would where she belongs under me. First thing I would do is make her look at the “appropriate for work” dress code. She reminds me of the ’80s Lisa without the accent… she might actually look attractive if she threw on some makeup since she is, at least, SUPPOSED to be about my age. What does she think dress codes for work are for in the first place…
I thought that, at least until tonight… I finally came across a tape that had, instead of the usual TAR, had a file I later determined was a DBF. Right after I imported the file into the database, I lost my rights on all of the systems and databases except this one, and really, really freaky stuff began to happen. The server room is currently filled with fog along the ground. I actually on a “break” now.
After creatures that look like they were from the SyFy channel roamed about and I totally was NOT hiding in a corner, this bossy grandma appeared out of no where dressed up like a general. She called herself the “spirit of computing past” and she told me to “swab the deck” and yelled at me for like 5 minutes until I finally started mopping the floor. Like who cares if there are chip crumbs on the floor, that’s what the janitors are for in the first place. But while I was scrubbing the floor she started droning on about Harvard or something. I told her I ain’t got that kind of money, white nice guys like myself don’t get government handouts. The old bag rolled her eyes and got sassy with me, saying that if she could debug the mark-two that she could debug my attitude that she dealt with sailors tougher than me. Whatever, like a girl could debug and like some granny could deal with a sailor, and I told her that. She smiled, let me have a break, and told me I would need it. I thought she was just running her trap, but now her eyes are glowing and the fog in here is getting really thick and going from warm to cold… Whoever sees this, that lady, I seen here before, she was in that picture that the lady that thinks she owns the place put on the wall a couple of weeks ago. Call the cops on her, exorcist or something.
[To be continued…]