Oh, The Fools Of April
Last year, while working for that unnamed but definitely horrible academic publishing company in Thousand Oaks, Crazy F***ing Denise pioneered the April Fool's plans around the office. It was a Friday, and she, being the heart and soul of the misnamed Fun Committee, engineered the hijinks: We were all to call in sick, or claim to have car trouble, or say we had the clap, or something that would allow us to come in late. Then we'd all meet at Starbucks that morning, and slip into the building while the managers were in their daily briefing. Then they'd come out and see us all waiting there to surprise them and, I don't know, we'd all have a good laugh and life would be peachy up on Walton's Mountain and our nipples would squirt sunshine and we'd all be bestest friends.
So, the managers came out, and wowee, they were surprised. Of course, CFD had actually cleared the "prank" with the department head, Kim, so it wasn't as much a practical joke as a poorly choreographed elementary school skit, somewhere on par with a plan that any 8-year-old could devise. And Shaunna, this idiot woman whose job title I can't remember now, took the whole thing up a notch on the hilarity scale by rearranging staplers and crap on people's desks while we were gone.
Man, I was so close to punching Shaunna in the mouth when I quit that place. If she'd been a man, I would've killed her outright, but since she was just a mannish woman, I had to settle for hating her.
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