Janis, get in here. Where the fuck is Susan? I sent her about 10 minutes ago to get my Guatemalan dark roast and she isn't back here yet. Is it so hard to go the shop one flight down, set my goddamn travel mug down, get it filled with coffee and get the fuck back up here?

We need to have a talk about the situation up here. You know me Janis, when I walk into this god-forsaken office every day at 8:30 I expect to see two things on my desk: The Globe and Mail for a recap of our world's current events and most importantly, my fucking coffee. You know I can't see my clients in this state. So why the fuck isn't Susan back from her epic journey to Java Tom's with my morning goddamn coffee?

And there's another thing, why the hell would they name a coffe place "Java Tom's" when "Java Joe's" is so much easier and appealing to the ear drum's palette? Even if Tom's your name, it's just common sence to put a little literary trick into your establishment's name so that people can remember it easier.

Jesus tapdancing christ, what the hell is she doing down there? Getting behind the counter with a mortar and pestle and grinding all my coffee beans by hand? Or going down to guatemala and picking the beans her own damn self? That is not her job. When I hired her as a personal assistant I wanted her to personally assist me with tasks that I need doing, like getting my motherfucking coffee. So what part of my request was confusing? I'll repeat myslef, I want a Guatemalan dark roast filter-brewed coffee with two sugars and one milk 13 fucking minutes ago.

Oh and last Monday I came to work and ate half my meatball sub for lunch, and put the rest of it in the fridge. What do you think happened to that delicacy of ground meat, four types of cheese and a zesty marinara sauce? I found it in the fucking garbage the next day among the paper shreddings. Does anyone around here know how to deal with the rest of society? Does anyone is this office have any motherfucking consideration for other people's meatball subs? It's common sense you bastards.

And what is this shit you all listen to on the radio? I get here all the time and you're always blasting this Phil-Collins-is-a-God, wish-the-eighties-were-back BOB FM bullshit. What do I have to do to get some journalistic analysis around here? If I don't hear Terry McLeod on this radio in the next ten seconds I will strangle someone. No but after this Queen song, I like this one.

And can you tell me why there is a pile of mail from three days ago sitting on my desk? The reason I get all my mail forwarded to my business address is so my assistant can open the shit for me. Throw away that Random House crap, I don't know why they keep sending me that. Don't throw that Capital One letter out! Why would you do a thing like that? Do you think that their no-hassle reward miles and low financing don't appeal to a rich guy like me? Well you're right so throw the goddamn thing out.

But we're losing sight of the common goal here: a cup of fucking Guatemalan dark goddamn roast coffee with two bitch-ass packets of brown sugar and one goddamn milk on my desk 15 minutes ago.

Now get the fuck out of here Janis, I have to call my goddamn therapist.