I don’t know about you, but before joining the Society Camp ranks, I was pretty damn sick of my 9-5, as you all should be, because they suck your soul out in exchange for money and shitty coffee. But one thing that is not okay, is making work sick.
Some of you may have noticed by now that I’m a fairly crotchety fellow on my best days, and often infect any place of work I attend with negative attitudes. And that is okay, because we all need a healthy dose of negativity to make sure we don’t become that insufferable asshole who shows up to work on Mondays with a smile on his stupid face. And also, people at work do disgusting and inconsiderate things that they deserve to be called out on and mocked incessantly for. But no matter how annoying, stupid, ignorant or joyless your colleagues may be, they don’t deserve your cold or flu. On second thought, most of them probably do, but for the sake of this discussion, you shouldn’t pass on your viruses and germs onto colleagues, no matter how many times they irritate, and test, every fiber of your moral and ethical being. Read More
I’m trying hard, very hard, not to lose my shit on people who seem to not know that human decency is personified in how one uses a goddamn elevator. How can something that seems so basic, a box on a pulley that ushers plebs up and down to their meaningless jobs and shitty condos, be fraught with so much absurd confusion and a lack of self-awareness?
Look, maybe if I had this thing people keep raving about, “cardio”, I’d be okay with taking the stairs and avoiding the horror that is walking into a box filled with awful scents and worse people. But unfortunately for all involved, I gave up on personal fitness and put all my eggs in the ‘science will soon invent a pill that saves me from ever having to set foot on an elliptical‘ basket. I guess that pill kinda already exists in the form of a methamphetamine, which has been used in the pharmaceutical weight-loss game for decades, but I like my teeth and also, those people have shitty cardio, but can fit into anything made by Gucci. Cocaine would probably also work, in the event you wanted to broaden your horizons. Continue Reading→
Every asshole has a blog now, and a shit one at that. Look, anyone who has ever felt swayed by the power of holding a pen and writing prose thinks that they are fucking Orwell or Hemingway. Well guess what dipshit, that one short story you wrote in high school that won some bullshit prize doesn’t make you a writer. Same goes for the blog you just started. You may think that it will be your ticket to Wes Anderson’s attention and a spot at a writing table, or your first publisher/movie deal like that former blogger who wrote Juno, her name escapes me but it sounds like some maniacal circus lion tamer (edit – Google tells me her name is Diablo, nailed the description). But more likely, blogging will just become some frustrating pastime that you force your friends, family and colleagues into reading. Guess what, they tell you they like it, but they only read the headline, the intro and the last line and mutter under their breath “what a dipshit”. But if, for the love of all fucking things sacred in the writing world, you decide to force your stupid opinions and prose onto the world, have the fucking dedication to write a post more than once every other month and give your Jewish mother even the slightest reason to feel remotely proud of you. Continue Reading→
I like my job, in that it gives me money to live and play with. But other than that, it’s really no more than a soul crushing environment filled with strangers who you’re forced to spend more time with than your own family or friends (who are bad enough as it stands).
To make matters worse, these people, if you can call them that (more like animals devoid of humour, compassion and intelligence), ensure that you dislike them even more by committing the various cardinal sins of the workplace. And the worst part is that you can never lash out or call them on it (other than anonymous, passive aggressive Post-it notes, which have probably averted countless workplace tragedies). You have to sit there and take it, as the last thing you want is having to spend even a single minute with an HR person, because they are literally the worst people on earth, similar to lawyers but without the smarts and penchant for blow. Continue Reading→
Today we have our first in our Fail Bag series, where readers send in what they think is a glaring example of societal shitbaggery, or even share their own hiccups in trying to not be so awful, and seek our sage advice on how to reform such inconsiderate actions.
Keith from Barrie, Ontario:
Hi Society Camp, first time, long time (editors note: this guy is a fucking liar, this blog hasn’t even been around for a week and he hits us with the first time, long time horseshit). The guy in the cubicle next to me is nice enough, for someone from Barrie. I’ve been working next to him for about a year, and for the most part I have no issues with him, even though he wears the same Van Halen shirt every Friday, which is bad enough as it is, but worse when you realize we work in a law office that doesn’t subscribe to casual Fridays (one time I didn’t wear a pinstripe suit on a Friday and almost lost my job). Anyway, so this guy, let’s call him Mitch, because that’s his real name, is okay, just a shitty dresser and he wears that all natural pine deodorant, which makes him smell great for about an hour or so, but that slowly fades into the faint smell of B.O. wafting through a forest, but that doesn’t bother me all that much. What I’m writing to you about is his fucking whistling. Usually, if a colleague was just whistling all the time, I’d tell them to shut their squeezed together lips up. But here’s the thing, Mitch just whistles the same tune throughout the day, Chopin’s “Funeral March”. So I really want to throw my stapler at him, but what if he’s just thinking about his dead wife’s funeral all the time? Would that make me the asshole? Or is he still the asshole and Society Camp bound for whistling at work?
Thanks for writing in, Keith. First of all, I’m really, really sorry to hear about the hard time you’ve been going through, as it’s never easy being from Barrie. Continue Reading→