It’s ‘bring your obnoxious brat to work’ day. If I wanted to work in an environment with screaming children, I’d still be at Legoland, thanks. Or I’d apply at Chuck E Cheese to experience the more vibrant, resonating, ear-piercing indoor scream.
I sort of wish I could get them to chase a ball out into the street.
What’s the point of today, anyway? What with all of the running down the halls, destroying my work on the whiteboards, and shitting on the floor, all it does is turn the office into a goddamned daycare and they view work as a big playday. If you’re going to bring them here, at the very least, you can start the process of crushing their spirits for the eventual soul-sapping office-job drudgery they’re destined for.
When I’m dictator, I’m going to be an advocate of child labor–why shouldn’t they sew and make handicrafts? Their eye-hand coordination will never be better, and their fingers will never be more nimble!
