A Precursor to My Wrongful Termination Lawsuit

This week my manager is on part 2 of his paternity leave. I didn’t know there was a such thing as paternity leave. Hell, if I did I would’ve start popping out kids a long time ago, or at least acknowledging the ones I already have floating around out there. 

 

I don't have any kids, of course. But if I do ever decide to get one of those things, this is the only model that I'll be in the market for*

I’m working on a project but I have to wait for regulators in Singapore to get back to me before I can go any further. You know how you’re supposed to be an aggressive go-getter in business? What exactly does that mean? I told the other people on my team that I’m available until Wednesday so if they’re swamped I can absorb some of their workload. They thanked me and said they would pass projects my way if they came across anything. But since they’re all vice presidents or higher, they probably assume that most of the work would be over my head, and they’re probably right. Still, would the “aggressive” thing to do be to ask again…and again…and again? I would just consider that annoying, but I’ve never been much of the business type. So I’ll just sit here and shoot the shit with you.    

Another question: since I’ve already made it clear that my workload is nonexistent until Wednesday, do I still have to minimize this soft-core porn New York Times article on my screen whenever somebody walks by? They know I’m not doing anything work-related so why even fake the funk? 

Luckily, I do have something to keep me occupied. See, they sat me by the bathroom (you know, where they sit all the blacks so that we can be ready to take over just in case the janitorial staff gets overwhelmed. Well, I can’t exactly confirm that that’s true as I’m the only black person in the company. Nevertheless, I’ve listed it as one of the grievances in the Wrongful Termination petition that I’m drafting. Things are going well now, but you never know. I have to be ready just in case they want to get it poppin’ up in here and start accusing me of some racist shit, you know, like using company property to work on my blog or taking half hour naps in the bathroom. Gotta have your exit strategy ready, yo. Me, I like to go out with a bang, and a few bucks, if I can help it.) 

But anyway, back to the bathroom. I have a staring problem that I developed in mainland China (as you may have noticed the root of every problem I’ve ever had, or ever will have, originated in mainland China). There, people would stare at me constantly, and they wouldn’t avert their gaze when I would look at them the way one would in a western country. Initially I was really uncomfortable, but after a while I too “Caught the Crazy” and started staring at people. And now that I moved on to greener pastures I’ve discovered the sad truth: you can take me out the mainland, but you can’t take the mainland out of me (Dear God, I hope that isn’t true. I need to purge these toxins out of my system immediately. Somebody get me some cayenne pepper and lemon juice–STAT!).  

You know, they really launched a war on productivity when they decided to sit me by the bathroom. There are at least 200 people on my floor and every time I see someone approaching, no matter how hard I try not to, I stop whatever I’m doing and watch them as they sashay in and out the bathroom. I’m making all sorts of mental notes. I’ve started timing how long people stay in there, and let me tell you, I’m not the only one hip to using the bathroom stalls for bed away from home.  But I am apparently, the only person who washes his hands. I know for a fact that the bathroom was out of paper towels as of 3:30PM. It’s currently 5:43, no custodian has come to replenish the supply and yet a lot of people are walking out the bathroom with completely dry hands. Unsanitary sluts. I need to think of some elaborate lie to explain why I can’t shake anyone’s hands here: 

“Oh sorry, in my culture we bow when addressing business associates.” 

“Well, TG, just so you know, in Hong Kong it might be considered disrespectful if you don’t meet someone’s extended hand” 

“Wait, are you trying to tell me that I have to hide my cultural traditions here?” 

“What do you…of course not! I only meant…” 

“Oh naaaaw, I know what you meant! You ain’t gotta say no more. I see what y’all tryin’ to do—y’all tryin’ to get it poppin’ up in here! Well come on, motherfuckers, I’ve been waiting for this!” 

  

At the press conference the following day. "Go on, Al--tell them! Tell them about how they kept me chained to a radiator in the boiler room!"

 

I really need to get me some business, 

TG

*If you don’t know who this wunderkind is: first, kill yourself, and after you do that click HERE. 

“Come on in, motherfuckers!”

Welcome to Your Negro Travel Guide. 

Over the past 3 years I’ve traveled throughout Africa, Asia, Europe and South America. While on my excursions I sent out mass emails to family and friends telling them of all the devastating things that were happening to me on a daily basis. They, of course, used my tragedies as their morning pick-me-ups. Callous whores. So whenever I sent out an email I would get a number of replies encouraging me to start a blog. Initially, I resisted. I talk so much shit that having my ramblings available in a public space would most certainly annihilate any bid I had at a successful future. I still know this to be true, but now I no longer care. 

To get you up to speed, below you’ll find a few entries I’ve written in the past few weeks since I first arrived in Hong Kong. From here on out I plan on posting every Monday to Friday, so stay tuned.* 

Your Negro Travel Guide (TG) 

*If you’re reading this from America (and happen to be borderline retarded like I am), know that I’m 12 hours ahead of Eastern time (If it’s 3PM in NY, it’s 3AM where I am). So don’t be confused if you wake up on Monday morning and I’ve already posted about how I had to strangle that old bat in my Monday night Body Pump class.