I think I have a rage problem…

I think I have a rage problem...

Yeah, sorry, I would love to come to work but here’s the thing – Your fucking bullshit policy makes me want to fucking die so I’m just gonna go over here, sit in the middle of your parody of classy shop, amidst your downtrodden employees who’d rather vomit in your holier-than-thou face than swallow another of your fucking saccharine (wish it was morphine) laced, saint-faced constructive comments, rip out my own intestine to use as a tourni, and shove a spike loaded with acid-borne analgesic in my vein – yes thats right I’d rather disembowel and stab myself and fall into a coma than deal with you on your own petty level – until I suffocate in my own bile and convulse on your floor. How’s that gonna work out?

Oh God, sorry, did I say that out loud?

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