|oh shit... the canary died...
||[Feb. 5th, 2004|05:22 pm]
I'm working in a mutherfucking coal mine. Well it's not really a coal mine, but for all the shit i've got to put up with, it might as well be. The air in this building is teh fucked. Recycled garbage, a zillion microbes of human cold and influenza per millionth, all wrapped up in a dry baked nose cracking lung busting tepid airsupply. Fuck i think i've got black lung. I wake up fine, with no coughing or any sign throat irritation.. all engines go... But after five minutes in this building i am hacking up a lung... this is fucked. I need my own hazmat suit and o2 airpack. yeah. Virus ridden spittle coats everything here... keyboards, mice, screens, door handles... I'm not howard hughes, i don't wear klennex boxes on my feet, i'm not phobic... its just FUCKING UNHEALTHY, and not one of the supervisors, with their own little rooms and personal ventilation, not one of them seems to care. i should leave them a packet of fine white powder or two. i guess it doesn't matter, this is just a fucking tech support call center. we don't need our voices... we can be replaced.
GOD DAMNIT. there are pieces of my throat on my computer screen. yum.
yay. i love this place. go fucking team.