I Descended Into An Unknown Level of Hell: Conferences Are For Fucking Assholes (Longish) (1568 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.93 on 55 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Pentameter (View user info) at 2005-12-06 08:43:03 EST
Due to many years of having to endure pointless and senseless activities, I would think that by now, my tolerance to idiocy and being aggravated would have been built to a level that would make Buddha envious. One of my mantras when faced with stressful situations is, "Absorb."
Wednesday morning, I found myself repeating that over and over again as I pulled my shaky hand to my lips so that I could take a deep drag from my cigarette. I prepared myself for a true test of my integrity, patience and the ability to control myself.
My boss and I were going to a conference for four days, and I would be sharing a room with her.
She's not a bad person, she's just a little too enthusiastic about her job for my liking. All she does is talk about work, and I really can't stand that. This woman loves to go to conferences and meetings, she loves to meet new colleagues, she loves to collaborate with others and she loves to make tons of work for herself. Obviously, she has a few screws loose.
And I was going to be stuck with her.
*Wednesday, November 30, 2005 - begin 80 straight hours of pure, unmitigated rage.*
I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to make sure that my bags were packed. If there's one thing I hate, it's being late, especially when there is a long trip to be made. I also hate inconveniencing someone by making them wait for me, so against my natural urges to stay sound asleep, I bounded out of bed and made sure that I'd be ready to leave my house promptly at 7:00 a.m.
At about ten after seven, my car was packed up and I took off for about an hour long drive. To make things even more interesting, the fog was so thick that I could see only about ten feet in front of me. I also didn't know where the fuck I was going.
I arrived at my boss's house at 8:00 a.m., just like she asked me to. When I knocked on her front door, she wasn't even ready. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I got up late."
Burning anger.
After sitting in her living room and watching television for an hour while she showered, packed and got her act together, we finally left. On our way out of town, she discovered that she had no money and that she needed to stop at a bank. When she stopped at the bank, she didn't have her MAC card, which meant we had to go back to her house.
At this point, I felt an aneurysm coming on, so I took a deep breath and tried to find a happy place. She got out of the car and ran into her house, so I took that moment alone to scream every curse I could think of while enclosed in the safety of the car.
Apparently, "absorb" would not be enough to save my soul this time around.
I was forced to listen to Tina Turner, the soundtrack for "City of Angels" and John Denver on our way to Washington, D.C. I was also forced to listen to her drone on and on about work related garbage that I couldn't have given two shits, a flying fuck and a rat's ass about.
Throughout the entire ride, I summoned all forces, both good and evil to make the hotel go up in a blaze of fire, smoke and death. When we arrived, I was saddened to see that the building was not in the process of burning down. We threw our suitcases in the room, went down to the registration table and signed in, and made our way to the lobby.
That's when I heard the sound of harps, or, as it were, sirens. We were told to evacuate the building, and I was so stoked that I knocked people over on the way up the escalator. I had blown my own mind because I willed the building to catch fire with only my thoughts.
Just as I was about to begin dancing in the street, a gentleman in uniform announced that it was a false alarm.
"Fuck," I muttered to myself as I rode the escalator back into the hotel.
I basically sat in my room until 5:30 p.m. when we were supposed to attend the opening session. We never made it because we started talking with these guys from Indiana who kept feeding me alcohol, and since I hadn't eaten in a while, I got twisted super fast. Then, I proceeded to wobble to the reception where I ate everything in sight.
That night, I went to bed having wasted an entire day. I was pissed.
*Thursday, December 1, 2005*
At about 1:20 a.m., the person in the room next to us came back to his room as drunk as fuck and started yucking it up with some other asshole who was even louder than him. About an hour later, this ended, but around 4:30 a.m., his alarm went off. He hit snooze until about 6:30 when he got his wake up call.
Motherfucker kept me up all night.
After I took my lengthy shower, thus making my boss late for her first session that morning, I took a piece of paper and jotted down, "Dear Room 801: You got the gay!" I slid it under the door and laughed as I ran down the hallway.
Most of the day was filled with nonsense sessions that were supposed to teach me things I didn't know, when in reality, it was just an opportunity for the presenter to brag about how much he/she had accomplished and how important he/she was to their organization.
If there's one thing I hate, it's when professionals feel the need to gloat about what they've done so that other people will pet their cocks.
Yada yada yada, it's time for dinner and I get roped into going to some stupid get-together with other random pieces of shit from our "region." We decide that we're going to get changed, so I went into the bathroom with my jeans and told her I'd be out in a second.
I stepped out into the room, and there she was in all of her nearly naked "glory." Now, this woman is about 55 years old and rather flabby. Imagine Jabba the Hutt, only with more gross. I only want to see one person naked, and she isn't that person. I looked at her and said, "You know, I think it's rather unprofessional for you to be undressed like that."
She gave me a strange look and said, "What? We're just girls."
"Regardless, I'd rather it if we took to changing in the bathroom," I stated.
"Hahahaha! Oh, stop being so serious!" she exclaimed.
What the fucking fuck? How did she expect me to ever take her seriously after that? I'm sorry, but once I see someone's flabby ass, it's pretty much expected that I'm never going to respect them again.
(By the way, she did this to me another three times.)
Even though I had lost my appetite, I had to go to dinner. For the most part, I ignored her and talked with some of the other people who were there. I made sure to order a huge plate of beans, and that night I stunk up the whole room. When she commented about the stench coming from my ass, I retorted with, "What? We're just girls! Tee hee!"
Nothing brings out the ugliness of my soul like feeling that I'm trapped. Before this whole ordeal began, I told her that I didn't feel as though this was worth my time or the school's money. Every time I tried to reason with her, she told me that it was nonsense and that it would be really good for my "professional development." Once I realized that I would be forced into attending the conference no matter what, I made up my mind that I was going to make her sorry for ever making me go with her and share a room with her.
The year before, I attended this conference and got nothing out of it. For the most part, I skipped sessions, went shopping, hung out at the bar and lounged in my room in my underwear. Really, it just helped me catch up on my sleep and my alone time. This time, there would be no sneaking off, no skipping out to shop or any other enjoyable activities.
That night, I lay down in my bed, and I was in emotion turmoil. Yes, I was supposed to be there. Yes, I was getting paid to be there. Yes, it was part of my job. No, she wasn't a terrible person. No, it wasn't her fault that I was there. No, none of it was any of her doing. But, I was still pissed, so I dozed off into a quiet rage that would certainly be tapped into the next morning.
*Friday, December 2, 2005*
All in all, Friday wasn't a bad day. We spent most of the day shopping with some people she had met over the summer at a different conference she had attended. Somehow, I ended up hanging out with an older woman who seemed to get my sense of humor. When we walked by a sex toy shop with a display of a metallic silver man dressed in kinky underwear, I grabbed her arm and said, "You should totally buy those for your husband."
She laughed a little and said, "Oh, I don't think he would appreciate that."
I looked at her, raised my eyebrow and said, "Oh yeah? I bet you would, though."
For some reason, it cracked her up. I really didn't expect a grandma-type to get my humor, but thankfully, for my sake she did.
That evening, I ended up getting forced into going back to one of the shops with her to return something she had bought earlier in the day. Then I got forced into going to Pentagon City, a huge ass fucking mall. Since I had no money, I was not particularly interested in going shopping again, but she whined until I told her it was fine. Basically, I stood there and watched her try on shoes. I would have wandered away, but I didn't want the trip to take any more time than need be.
I curled up in my bed and dreamed of the next morning, when I would wake up, finish packing and finally be on my way home.
*Saturday, December 3, 2005 - end 80 straight hours of pure, unmitigated rage.*
The alarm went off and slowly, I opened my eyes. Sunrays were beaming through the window, and it looked as though it were a lovely day outside.
I had never felt so wonderful in all of my life.
After going through the morning conference bullshit, I ran up to the room, threw everything into my suitcase and grabbed my coat. I bolted down to the lobby to see if I could find my boss. There she was, getting ready to go back downstairs.
"Hey!" I shouted.
After looking around, she finally spotted me. She said, "I was just going to go downstairs for the last session."
"Um, I thought we were leaving after the first one?"
"Well, I want to stay for this."
I can only imagine the expression on my face. Who the hell would want to stick around if they didn't have to?
"I don't. We're leaving," I said.
"Uh...all right," she said, looking rather angry.
I didn't give a fuck. I got dragged around all week and I finally had enough. I had seen her naked, I had been forced to go to every single thing she wanted, and never once did she ask me what I wanted to do. All week long I fought to keep my sanity intact, to smile at people, to stand on ceremony and to act as though I really cared.
Finally, it was over.
When we got to her house, I threw my things into my car and took off speeding for the highway, which I actually missed getting onto at first because I was so happy just to be the hell away from her.
I paid for my sins, I did my time. If I learned anything, it was that I do have the power to control myself and that I do have the ability to put on a smile when I'm feeling nothing but rage.
Maybe it was worth it after all.
No, wait...I saw my boss naked. No life lesson is worth that price.
User Reviews
Submitted by Alter (user info) at 2007-09-26 21:00:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No, Comment.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-11-10 17:36:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I just read a batch of these during my smoke breaks. Excellent.
Submitted by creep_firebombing (user info) at 2006-02-02 15:57:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I wonder if they have conferences I can go to.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-12-22 10:49:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.ubersite.com/cgi-bin/message_get.cgi?message=1135199059215916648#1754385
+2 title.
Submitted by Ejryuu (user info) at 2005-12-08 17:25:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
So you saw her NAKED naked, or just bra and panties? Did the drapes match the carpet? This is important!
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2005-12-06 18:18:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I love Siren, but seeing her ask "what's wrong with John Denver" was painful. I feel for you. You know I hate the nudity of the elderly. Well written as usual.
Submitted by Xcuses (user info) at 2005-12-06 16:58:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Seeing your boss naked, is that as bad as you had it?
How about having to sleep your way to the top....I mean, I haven't don't that yet, but it seems like a lot of work.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-12-06 15:34:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I had similar experiences. One thing that I learned was to get my own hotel room.
Submitted by PokeyPecker (user info) at 2005-12-06 15:32:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ThatOneGirl (user info) at 2005-12-06 15:15:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Glad I'm not you.
Submitted by Serious_Melvin (user info) at 2005-12-06 15:06:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-12-06 15:02:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
So, if I want my asshole fucked, I have to go to a conference? Can't I just skip the conference and get right to the asshole-fucking part? It just leaves more time, y'know, tee hee!
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2005-12-06 13:52:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Conferences are fun IF you don't have a boss there. Good job on not killing her.
Submitted by NerfHerder (user info) at 2005-12-06 13:44:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Lucky. I've only seen her naked once.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-12-06 13:33:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't think I'm allowed to comment here anymore, but I did actually enjoy this. Shocking, I know.
Submitted by Lechuga (user info) at 2005-12-06 13:30:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
If I were you and you were male, I would have totally started masturbating to porn I ordered on TV. Right in front of her. Then, while she was asleep, I would have given her the money shot.
Sticky face. Every morning.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2005-12-06 13:26:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I am not looking forward to having old balls.
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Haaahahahaa
Seeing this in black and white made me realize that I too dread the idea of having old balls.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2005-12-06 12:45:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
*sigh*
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2005-12-06 12:21:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2005-12-06 12:07:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
If I saw my boss naked <shudders violently>, I don't think that I would ever be able to look at him again.
I get roped into going to Salt Lake City, once or twice a year. If we split a hotel room, and he changed outside of the bathroom, saying "oh, it's just us guys," I would kick him in his old balls.
I think that it has something do with me getting old. I am not looking forward to having old balls.
Submitted by SiskelandFatboy (user info) at 2005-12-06 11:36:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It is a proud moment when you want something to burn down and simply will it into happening.
Keep at it.
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2005-12-06 11:34:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Siren (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:15:03 (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm so sorry. But, what's so wrong with John Denver? :(
--------------
See, when I'm angry, the worst thing for me to do is hear calming music because it makes me transcend rage and go into another state where I'm so calm and cool that I fear the slightest thing will send me over the edge. John Denver's soothing voice almost made me snap out. Same thing with Tina Turner. The music is relaxing but that's no good when I'm pissed off.
Calm environment during anger leads to trouble almost every time. That being said, Frank Sinatra makes me incredibly violent.
Submitted by GodLovesALittleLovin (user info) at 2005-12-06 11:16:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You mention Tina Turner as if her music is a bad thing? You listen to those pipes and tell me that's not pure, unconcentrated soul and I will call you a liar, madam.
Submitted by Dervel (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:42:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Well Barty, it's supposed to be hush hush so keep this to yourself - it had lots of grooves on it.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:40:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
great read, as always
Submitted by Mike00295 (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:31:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Us Indiana guys are only good for a few things.
Getting random conference girls drunk
Growing corn
Having red barns
Having the BADDEST ASS MOTHERFUCKING FOOTBALL TEAM IN THE UNIVERSE, 12-0
Playing basketball with high white socks
Drinking Irish whiskey
This only seemed like a semi-crappy experience.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:29:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Derval, that's amazing! Can I sit next to you in the cafeteria?! Can I? Huh? Huh? Can I? Huh?
Seriously though, how does that work?
Submitted by Dervel (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:20:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I went to a conference once when I was working as a designer. Cool story, huh?
But wait, it gets better, they gave me this plastic sheet that when you put under a piece of paper it enables you to draw straight lines without a ruler.
All the cool kids wanted to talk to me that day.
Submitted by Siren (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:15:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm so sorry. But, what's so wrong with John Denver? :(
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:11:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
oh it wasn't unmitigated rage. other people's stupidity is acceptable as a mitigating circumstance to explain rage. totally.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:06:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A picture of my boss naked crept into my mind. Now my minds eye is blind. I need to go make throw up.
At our annual conference/convention I took a fifth of Jameson, expecting to take home maybe two thirds of a bottle. That bottle was emptied by the second night. None of my co-workers know that they still live only by the Grace of the Irish ability to make good whiskey. Next year I'm faking a brain tumor, because if I don't a real one may crop up.
Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:03:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't believe they made you share a room! Pent' I salute you. You have far more self control than I.
I'd gone AWOL or ballistic at some point if forced to go through half of that shit.
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:00:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Needs more racism. Wahington DC is full of stereotypes.
Submitted by MistressFist (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:58:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
good story
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:54:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:08:26 (#)
Ranking: 2
i kind of like going to conferances, just because of all the free food and booze i get.
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Yeah, me too. But imagine sharing a room with your boss and watching her change
in front of you. On second thought, I forget who I am talking to.
Good post babes.
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:49:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:33:41 (#)
Ranking: 1
Man that really sucks. What do you do?
------------------------
Well, here's what makes it interesting. I used to do grants writing and research, which I still sort of do, but since I got promoted, I do research on an individual's giving capacity. Since the conference pertains mostly to grants people, I really had no reason to be there.
Berty - glad you're feeling better.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:38:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm ok, it was just indigestion.
Submitted by ozzy (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:37:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Not many people could write something like this and not get flamed for posting a blog entry.
At least you wrote it in a manner that made it entertaining.
Submitted by mikethescottish (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:36:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Egads.
Submitted by TheSpook (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:36:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The ultimate goal of a conference is to keep a steady buzz the entire time.
Submitted by MavisMing (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:35:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Its a hard life.
I cant help but feel that this is the sort of story you should save for your boyfriend so that he can sit there nodding his head and saying "Uh hu ... Uh hu." but seceretly not listening.
Congrats on not cutting her throat though.
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:33:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Man that really sucks. What do you do?
Submitted by RyuFu (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:26:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You are more than welcome to use my "Shabba the Hut" illustration to represent your boss:
http://www.ubersite.com/m/41858
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:23:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I was experiencing those pains during the conference. Are you aggravated? That could be it too, you know.
As far as beating my kids, I was thinking of using a lead pipe...is that too much?
-----------
Berty is never stressed, although I was a little anxious yesterday and got these red blotches on the back of my hands. They went away though. I didn't sleep last night though.
*clutches side*
Ah, Jesus.
Ok, well, I guess you can get away with a car arial. It brutalises your kids though. I dunno, they'll be your offspring so do what you want with. Touch their genitals with your mouth untill they're 18 if you want.
Just be sure to teach them how to sew and read cook books and you'll be fine.
Submitted by OneCheapGeek (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:20:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The last conference I went to was enjoyable, but then I'm an antisocial programmer with a strangely deep-seated love for camels. And there was shitloads of free beer.
Submitted by MichaelJackson (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:19:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh Moosey <weeps> I, Michael Jackson, feel for you :<(
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:19:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:08:26 (#)
Ranking: 2
you are a phenominal writer. this story dealt with absolutely nothing interesting at all, yet i was still captivated.
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Thanks Tim. I feared this would be a little boring. I could have gone into so much more, but I didn't want it to be too long and I didn't want to split it into two parts.
The main reason I wrote this was to get it off of my chest.
=========================
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:16:06 (#)
Ranking: 2
There's a tightness to my chest and my right arm feels funny. I think those years of eating fatty foods and smoking the packets that say cancer gaurenteed are finally catching up with me.
Before I croak I want to say one thing to you Pent: When you've got kids just hit them with your hands, don't use chairs.
----------------
I was experiencing those pains during the conference. Are you aggravated? That could be it too, you know.
As far as beating my kids, I was thinking of using a lead pipe...is that too much?
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:16:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
There's a tightness to my chest and my right arm feels funny. I think those years of eating fatty foods and smoking the packets that say cancer gaurenteed are finally catching up with me.
Before I croak I want to say one thing to you Pent: When you've got kids just hit them with your hands, don't use chairs.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:13:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Boomslang, why can't you make your posts as cool as that review?
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:08:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you are a phenominal writer. this story dealt with absolutely nothing interesting at all, yet i was still captivated.
i kind of like going to conferances, just because of all the free food and booze i get.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:06:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
*looks over at Steve*
*starts typing*
You poor bugger.
Submitted by boomslang (user info) at 2005-12-06 09:02:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
How you uh, how you comin' on that novel you're working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice litte story you're working on there? Your big novel you've been working on for 3 years?
Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there?
Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? (voice getting higher pitched) Yea, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends?
At the end your main character is richer from the experience? Yeah? Yeah?
(voice returns to normal) No, no, you deserve some time off.
Oh I know it hurts now Brian, but look at the bright side: you have some new material for that novel you've been writing.
You know...the novel you've been workin' on? You know the the one, uh, you've been workin on for three years? You know the novel. Got somethin' new to write about now. You know?
Maybe a, maybe a main character gets into a relationship and suffers a little heartbreak? Somethin' like what... what you've just been through? Draw from real life experience? Little, little heartbreak? You know? Work it into the story? Make the characters a little more three dimensional? Little, uh, richer experience for the reader?
Make those second hundred pages really keep the reader guessing what's going to happen? Some twists and turns? A little epilogue? Everybody learns that the hero's journey isn't always a happy one? (Voice returns to normal.)
Oh, I look forward to reading it.
Submitted by w_t_a_y_s_t_r_m (user info) at 2005-12-06 08:58:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Is your boss really Jabba the Hut?
Are you one of those dancer women that keep getting eaten by the big monster because you hang around on the massive grate when he reaches for the button?
Submitted by NotSteve (user info) at 2005-12-06 08:53:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2005-12-06 08:52:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I feel your pain. Conferences are a jumble of avoiding people you have to and meeting new people you don't want to.
All that plus constantly wishing people would wipe the shit off thier noses.