A lot of people just need to say, “Oh, fuck me. There are a multitude of reasons one says it. My personal favorite has to be just before I go to bed, and I ask her, “is there anything I can do for you before I go to bed?”
And her response is straight up, ‘Oh… Fuck me?”
I mean, I’m a red blooded American man, known for a well-documented and long established weakness; I like hot chicks. A lot. I’m not going to say no, right!
Then, there are days when I know full-well I’m not going to enjoy all the shit I gotta do. Like when the morning goes good, and I spend lunch thinking it’s going to be an easy afternoon.
I mean, that’s why we all got in a groove this morning. That’s why we hustled. That’s why Francisco isn’t coming back from lunch with us! That motherfucker fucked his hand up by busting ass this morning!
So I come back from lunch, and boss man hands me a huge stack of orders, and tells me “Docks A17 and 18. The last four are D4, 6, 11, and the last one isn’t here yet but I told them to send him that way.”
I should have known. I know how things work in this place. The problem is that too many people are dropping the bags of shit before they get to me.
That’s a definite, “Oh, fuck me,” day!
Then, probably the most popular in regions where the phrase, “Polar Vortex,” means time to check with HR about using some PTO! It’s usually late spring and early fall times of year, and the weather has been pleasant. Hell, I got home at 4 pm and thought a while about turning on the air conditioning for a little bit.
So, I wake the next day, get ready to go, and step outside. What the hell? It’s friggin 30 degrees?
Yeah. It’s that time of year when the temperature swings a solid 30 or 40 degrees in a day!
Everyone, say it with me!
Now, I’m off to find out if I can add a board for people to share their Oh, Fuck Me stories on OafHuck.me!