that one shitheel

At every job I have ever had, in every group it has been my misfortune to have belonged to, there is THAT ONE SHITHEEL.
This is the person who is directly responsible for bringing down the tone of the entire establishment by virtue of being a complete and utter twat. They are not only incompetent, they are jumping up and down incompetent AND they are fice. They are possessed of unnatural powers...deadly like the plague, dangerous like toenails caught in the rug, rip roaringly annoying, like fat adolescent girls who think they're vampires. Yet for some reason management never seems to be able to ferret them out. They are to businesses what icebergs are to the White Star Line. They chase off good staff with the determination of tracking hounds. They dampen the morale of everyone around them by being sneaky, spying, whining, thieving tattletale mutant ninja cheesesteaks who deserve to be humped for all eternity in Hell by the wheezing, wart covered Daemon Saliva Poodle. Or the Boner Chihuahua. Either one.

I was lurking at another blog (Everything is Electric) when the lovely hostess there mentioned having an enemies list. Now since one of my fondest secret desires
has been to emulate Richard Milhous Nixon, I thought "An enemies list! What a wonderful idea. But who goes at the top? Who is number one?"

Who indeed.

Do I have a specific person in mind? Yes, and no. Yes, The Shitheel travels under many names, but is actually a single, evil aetheric entity that moves from body to body, using it's host for awhile and then casting them away....considerably richer.

The Shitheel never gets caught. Never. They rape and pillage their way merrily through the workplace minefield you and I must gingerly navigate every day with nary a thought and never a consequence. The Shitheel can sit reception wearing nothing but an adult diaper and a paper chef hat, one finger rootling up his nose. The boss? May as well be blind. The Shitheel can lay out an tarp on the rug and proceeds to dismantle a vital bit of office machinery, like, say, the computer mainframe, and the boss? will just step over him. (really happened) But should our Shitheel not get his copies back quickly enough? The ensuing book throwing, screeching, foaming scene will pass completely unnoticed by management, despite the scissors in the wall and the broken window next to The Shitheels' desk (yep).
Whoops! The Shitheel has taken it into his head to go on a rampage. First stop, the bosses office; where he treats his larruping love chicken to a quick spank while he goes through the bosses' desk looking for cocaine (really happened) Then, he proceeds to the employee locker room where he masturbates again standing in the middle of the ladies shower (really happened) Lets say he then continues on to the front of the house, where he greets customers with a damp, suspicious smelling handshake and throws an arm around their shoulders, treating them to a steaming bowl of armpit (really happened) And calls them 'Bucko' (really happened). And shoplifts in front of them (*sigh* yeah.)

Fucker gets a RAISE.

That is the unholy power of THAT ONE SHITHEEL.