Want to hear something funny?

OK, so it's like Dec 1999 (don't ask how I remember), and I'm a Manager at what was then Taiwan's largest employer, a company that persists in characterizing itself as the world's 3rd largest PC manufacturer.
The department had cut some kind of asshole arrangement with the local office of one of the world's largest ad agencies, and, as part of the deal, they were supposed to provide support & training to the product marketing departments.
These invariably consisted of some lowlife on foreign posting coming around and giving total bullshit presentations which couldn't be understood by 98% of the attendees, being presented entirely in standard conversational American English, and comprising such lame, obvious content that it was patently insulting to the remaining 2%.
The agency, apparently, was responsible for the creation of, among other things, The Jolly Green Giant, Morris the Cat, Charlie Tuna, the Maytag repairman, the Pillsbury doughboy, Tony the Tiger, and the fucking Marlboro Man.

But these tired-ass cocksuckers are foisting upon us this banal crap, full of cheesy, worn out spew, with the WORST, most dismal Wurd clipart, like

and

and

Jesus.

Anyways, this one time, we were invited to visit these motherfuckers' sumptuous office complex for a very special presentation.

It was supposed to, you know, be a treat.

Right.

Anyways, me and my number one guy, Señor Salario Perdido, we ride our bikes over there, in PISSING down rain, and we fuckin go up.

Now, as with most firms of this ilk, these cheese eating cock knockers had spent like BILLIONS on their offices, the joint just fuckin STANK of shitheel design executed for its own sake.

You know how it is, the less you really are providing to customers, the more the presentation has to be gussied up. If you're going to sell folks air, it better come in a pretty nice damn can, right?
Now, this fucking joint had one of those GENIUS designs going on, where the fucking doors look like walls, the walls look like windows, and the windows give you a headache.

Particularly, in this case, they had made this big fucking huge Meeting Room with the one wall floor-to-ceiling glass, perfectly clear and unmarked, and the fucking DOOR was this huge slab of dark wood, again, floor-to-ceiling, hung on fucking tracks with no hardware or markings anywhere on it.

One of those fucking retarded offices where the poor receptionist spends fully half her day showing every fuckin visitor how to work the fucking doors and shit.

ANYWAYS, we all go in through this stupid-assed door.

And they got some kind of fucking ass-hatted video presentation for us to watch.

And they got the old wheeled stand with the big fuckin TV on it and the VCR.

That's right, VCR, kids.

So, of course, the numb bastard who's giving the talk thing has NO idea what he's fucking doing, so he calls in the house AV guy.

Here's where things start to develop.

Now, the first thing you need to know is that the kid is one of these fucking benighted waterheads who fucking runs everywhere, because they're stupid enough to think it makes them look important and the boss will somehow mistake it for diligence.

Also, in this case, Flunky McPinhead thinks it will look good for him if he runs away the second he's finished fixing the fuckin TV.

Trouble is, after he came in, someone slid the stupid solid slab of oak door closed.

So the dopey fucker fixes the TV, and leaps to his fucking feet, and runs out the door at full fucking throttle.

And runs STRAIGHT into one of the fucking glass walls.

BAM!!

Fuck me, I'm choking here right now from trying to stifle the laughter.

The fuckin pinata-head hits the fucking glass so fucking hard, he literally bounces back like five feet, before falling flat on his ass.

And me and Señor Salario are just

fucking

dying

we're laughing so fucking hard.

Now, despite me being management, we were already on numerous shit lists, mostly for refusing to play along when everyone else we worked with would stand around a boardroom table and, regarding a huge steaming three-coiler crapped right in the center, discuss loudly among themselves how it was ice cream.

And me and Señor Salario would kind of stand there, going, like "But...but...but...it's not ice cream, it's poop!".
So, needless to say, us convulsing with contained paroxysms of screaming hilarity wasn't gaining us any fuckin points with our bosses who were there.
Finally we settled down and were calm, and finally, the whole ordeal was over and we got up to go, the entire dept. was going out for food and beer, so, at least we could get fucked up on the company tit, so we had that to look forward to.

And then, as we walked out of the Meeting Room (literally with our hands held out in front of us to make double fuck SURE we were going through an actual doorway), sure enough, the first thing we see is Jimmy fucking Neutron, sitting at the receptionist's desk with a wad of TP the size of your head, COVERED in blood, pressed against his fucking nose.

And me and Señor Salario are fucking off again, laughing our jeezin asses right off.

Trust me, in those days, the laughs were few and far between, we had to enjoy the crap out of the few we got.

Raj

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