Fuck Floor Warden Training

The following was written using non-digital means and later transcribed into the aether. Enjoy.

So this is coming to you retro pen-to-paper style, as I'm stuck in a pointless training meeting, and am so bored I may actually open my wrists with my pen just to have something to do. Crossways, obviously, not sideways. I don't want to die, I just want to end the agony that is Floor Warden Training. Bleeding = Excitement; Informational Videos on Fire Extinguisher Use = my brain actually shutting off its own blood flow just to stimulate some endorphins in a vain attempt to prevent me from hurling my chair through the window and leaping to a meaty pancake death 27 floors below. Man, I started that thought not suicidal. This is worse than i thought.

I am a Floor Warden in my office building. What does that mean, Weirdbeard, you might ask? Well, that means that I have to be That Guy during the fire drills making sure that everyone is leaving the floor, and treating the situation with more gravity than it deserves by anyone's definition (with the exception of building management, who is clearly getting off on the whole thing).

I hate it.
I only agreed to do it because our facilities manager begged. Well, not so much begged as asked nicely and batted her eyelashes and smiled, and I caved like a house of cards that has been inexplicably topped with the complete unabridged Oxford English Dictionary rather than a final card.
<no context rant at trainer> NO I WILL NOT BUY AN ORANGE VEST WITH MY OWN FUCKING MONEY AND WEAR IT DURING FIRE DRILLS TO IDENTIFY MYSELF AS A LEADER. FUCK YOU. </no context rant at trainer> this is clearly not a real tag, but is rather intended to indicate my desire to shout the enclosed remarks at the trainer, who is apparently a total toolwad.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, so the facilities manager is a hellof cute redhead, and I'm totally incapable of saying no to her. So I am a Floor Warden.

But Its not all emasculation and bullshit.
There are perks.

Every summer there's a Floor Wardens Picnic. A picnic, you say? Well, that sounds about as enjoyable as the training you're bitching about.

Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, magical third party interrogator, but its on the roof of the building. On the 55th floor. With uninterrupted views of Mt. Rainier and Puget Sound, The Olympics around to the Cascades. And that's pretty fucking awesome.

But this is, of course, absolutely of no help to me now, as I'm in this bullshit meeting writing this rant on paper perched on the windowsill like its the fucking middle ages or something.
<no context rant at trainer>Dude, Really, Trainer? We should use Common Sense in the event of an emergency? Get the Fuck Out. Here I was planning on getting a good bit of momentum going and then running through the offices screaming at the top of my lungs, "WE'RE ALL GONNA FUCKING DIE!!!!!1! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!! USE THOSE SMALLER AND WEAKER THAN YOURSELVES AS SHIELDS AND/OR BAIT. OH EM GEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee..." Fuck you and your common sense, I'm gonna have fun. Bait, of course, in the event of a Monster or other Creature-Event based emergency. Remove the head or destroy the brain. For Fuck's Sake if the rats are stampeding, run WITH them without questioning it. </no context rant at trainer>

Sigh
Floor Warden Training.


On an unrelated note, I highly suggest that those of you who like ranting and video games and english people go check out Zero Punctuation's game reviews every wednesday over at The Escapist Magazine. A limey ranting about videogames = awesome. That's math, you can't argue with math.

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