Based on a science fiction book series, these are the journals of the main protagonist, Adrian Stannis, a scientist whose greatest wish is to live in peace with his computer constructs and experiments, but who is caught between rebels fighting a tyrannical Empire and an alien invasion.
Entry 001 Managers are Fools
I have always been of the opinion that managers are fools. It is comforting to know that I’m right. There is a particular brand of stupidity that seems to be required of those in authority.
Case in point the Idiot who was assigned to oversee my division (over someone infinitely more qualified, I might add): is starting to make me feel that my only chance for career advancement is outside of ‘official’ channels.
Note to self: Begin exploring options for someone of my considerable intelligence and talents.
Once again, the idiot of a manager treats me as if I’m little more than an instrument to advance his career. He had no qualms about assigning me an important task ten minutes before the end of the day. This is happening with disturbing frequency. He must think I would find the challenge of a deadline refreshing.
Yes, do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. I have no life beyond work.
This must stop. I am no one’s lackey.
Note to self: I must step up my efforts to find an alternative. In the few spare moments not spent working.
Appended Note: Who am I fooling? I have no spare moments. The man apparently thinks I’m his slave.
Extra Appended Note: Research methods of body disposal.
Entry 003 Grrrr…Argh
Yes, I know that I’m the best there is in my field. And yes, I don’t mind being given the most difficult problems to solve. It’s a boost to my ego that I can handle things that no one else can.
But do run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it’s going. That helps. Or even better, hover behind me, advising me at every keystroke. That helps immensely.
Do you remember that I am the best in my field or are you suffering from short term memory loss? There are cures for that, it’s called amputation.
Note to self: What would free me from having to work under such fools? Preferably something that won’t result in my being sent to a penal colony.
Entry 004 More rantings from the slave pit
If my arms are full of trays of data crystals and other important supplies, don’t open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic. Opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever be injured and lose all use of my limbs. Of course the idiot manager had to crowd me as he went by, even though there was plenty of room. I nearly dropped the whole load.
I’m sick of these posturing fools who think they can get away with pushing people around just because they can.
Note to self: Need to research telekinesis. Or techniques on dealing with fools masquerading as managers.
Entry 005 Post from the head slave
If you give me more than one task to do, don’t tell me which is priority. I must have missed the requirement where psychic ability is needed for this job.
If you have special instructions for a project, don’t write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.
I am not here to build the reputation of people who can’t afford to think. Apparently thinking interferes with project deadlines.
Question to self: Why am I here?