Illustration by Bob AulMe: just a temp filling in for the guy going on vacation. You: the most vile, obnoxious, repulsive, vulgar co-worker imaginable, a woman who makes drunken sailors sound like choir boys at the church altar. I was fortunate enough to work with my back to you, Countess Hagula, but your voice was set on 11. “What the fuck is this?” “I'm tired of this shit.” “That chick is a cunt.” “My husband is a lazy bastard.” “I sneezed so hard my pants are wet.” “I'm going to pee, then blow my nose, in that order.” When you announced you were “on the rag,” I broke. After four eight-hour shifts under your tyrannical rule, I went Norma Rae on your ass. You received a closed-door session with HR. If it had been me, the moment I said one curse word, I would have been out of a job. But I'm just a temp.
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