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us·er pool [yü-zer pül] 

In the world of technology, a User is someone who uses a computer. More specifically, it's someone who asks stupid questions about the use of that computer.

In the context of this blog, a Pool refers to an available supply, the use of which is shared by a group.

At one of the largest entertainment companies in Los Angeles, my job is to provide technical direction and support to these users, many of whom are female. That's where things get a little messy...

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Girl Scout Cookies Cause Global Warming

I refuse to eat Girl Scout cookies because a new study indicates that these cookies are now a leading cause of Global Warming.

Don't take it from me; listen to the experts:

Some guy in some lab in some institute in Washington had this to say: "Pollution is one of the biggest man-made problems. Burning fossil fuels is one thing that causes pollution. Fossil fuels are fuels made of organic matter such as coal, or oil. When fossil fuels are burned they give off a green house gas called CO2. Girl Scout cookies are made with oil." 

Al Gore had this to say: "Another major man-made cause of Global Warming is population. More people means more Girl Scout cookies, and more methods of transportation to distribute those Girl Scout cookies. The more sales of Girl Scout cookies, the more distribution, the more damage we do to increase the threat of Global Warming."

The stats speak for themselves:

  • 20% increase of America's carbon dioxide emissions from Girl Scout cookies since 1990.
  • 15% increase of America's carbon dioxide emissions forecasted by 2020 if we do not cap the sale of Girl Scout cookies.
  • 80% decrease in Girl Scout cookies required by 2050 to prevent the worst consequences of global warming.

I have posted signs all around the office to inform the uninformed and promote this critical environmental cause. 

Although my efforts to obliterate Girl Scout cookie sales every year tend to be very successful on my floor, there are still those who somehow ignore my slashed Double Stuff Oreo prices and still pay full price for Samoas and Thin Mints to support whatever cause these little girls are peddling. And that's what bothers me the most. It's not the little girls doing the selling; it's their parents bothering me at work so that their daughters don't have to do jack shit. 

For those who actually bought Girl Scout cookies, their orders have arrived. Well, I for one cannot idly stand by and let them enjoy eating those cookies, so I have decided to create some hysteria and controversy. Apart from religion, the easiest way to control people with guilt and panic is to attach global warming to whatever you want to ban.  

So far, it's working like a charm. Even though Tefft sells the cookies for her kids, she has now taken it upon herself to police the floor by ostracizing anyone she catches who is either eating Girl Scout cookies or has them on their desk. 

I think Jason Y is on to me. Turns out he's a clever little bastard. And potentially one of the leading enemies of the Global Warming cause. Therefore, he must be eliminated.


Therapy for the Dead

Human Resources has been sending me back for tree therapy to deal with the fact that I was recently deceased. While I was not actually dead, HR believes I should deal with it as if I had actually been dead because everyone else believed I was dead. HR feels that the psychological impact of me knowing that everyone believed I was dead for a week could have devastating effects.

Tree therapy this time around has not been nearly as fun as the last time when HR decided I was insane. Mainly because Una is no longer in the same office, so I have very little to look at or do in the tree while my therapist works with me. So the only thing I can do is entertain myself by fucking with Fred the therapist.

"What seems to be the trouble this time?" Fred asked as we began our first session.

"I'm having trouble dealing with the fact that I'm alive."

"Why? What bothers you about being alive?"

"Nothing. It's the fact that I was dead a couple of weeks ago that bothers me."

"Dead? You were... Dead?"

"It's hard being alive after you've been dead. Luckily, I'm not insane anymore."

Fred has been somewhat entertaining, but I sure do miss peeping through Una's window while she puts on a show for me.

And back at the office, I'm still dealing with Jason Y, who is not only doing my job, which is actually doing nothing, but he seems to be working my Users, which actually requires doing quite a lot. 

He realized that doing my job well requires doing nothing, otherwise people get very uncomfortable. Because the more he does in my job the more other people need to do in their job. The more people need to do in their job, the more apparent it becomes that they are incapable of doing their job, and nobody is comfortable with that. 

So the less he does in my job, the more people respect him. The more people respect him, the more successful he'll be. 

But the less he has to do, the more he tries to find things to do that will not appear as though he's doing anything. 

And that's when you really start noticing tits and ass around the office.

So far, he seems squeaky clean. But we all know what that means. There's a seedy underbelly behind that Louis Vuitton belt somewhere. I just need to find it and exploit it. And if not, well... I'll just make one up. Hell, I faked my own death, I'm sure I can turn him into a charter member of NAMBLA if I have to.


Jason Y

After being dead for only a week, the Company has already replaced me with another Jason. My death was only a vicious rumor started by my boss, who actually doesn't even exist. So how true could it really be?

But even though Smithee doesn't really exist, he has apparently earned a great deal of credibility within this company. According to subordinates and peers, there is nobody more honest and sincere than the man I made up. 

Only Payroll knew it was a false rumor because I told them so. Finance, on the other hand, considered it fact since they found out through Human Resources, a department which is infallible, much like the Bible. HR has wanted me dead for quite some time now, so when they heard the rumor they immediately substantiated it and asked Finance to free up the headcount. 

Mulhausen immediately replaced me with his nephew, another technology manager named Jason, who he felt could do the job more than adequately. Fernandez had no part in the hire, so he was pissed off because the position has a dual reporting relationship to both Mulhausen and Fernandez through Smithee. 

Although neither Mulhausen nor Fernandez were happy to see me alive, Fernandez was happy that Mulhausen had fucked up.

Besides Payroll, Blair was the only other one who didn't think I was really dead. She thought maybe I had entered the FBI witness protection program because I had been involved in something really shady and had to rat out all my shady business partners--but not death. No, not until she saw my cold dead body would she believe I was actually dead. 

Either way, I thought she'd at least be happy to see me. But she too was disappointed. Apparently she had taken a liking to the new Jason, like everyone else. 

"Did you see the movie Castaway with Tom Hanks?" she asked. "At some point you have to give up hope and move on with your life."

"He was on the island for five years," I said. "I was 'dead' for a week."

"You know I don't have a long attention span," she said. "At least we have our memories."

So Jason X has been replaced by Jason Y across the board. Maybe I should stop playing jokes on people. As fun as they are, I really fuck myself up with them...

Mulhausen and Fernandez called in both Finance and HR to help resolve the double Jason issue.

"Well," Triplet, the VP of HR, began slowly, obviously with no real plan in her head. "You were dead, so we replaced you."

"I was never dead," I said. "So you'll just have to unreplace me."

Mulhausen chimed in: "Jason is very likeable."

"Thank you," I said.

"The other Jason," Mulhausen clarified.

"Well," I said. "I like myself. A lot. That makes me likeable too. You screwed up, so fix it."

Fernandez jumped in: "We'll just get rid of Jason. Fair's fair."

Mulhausen: "Agreed."

Fernandez: "No, the other Jason. Not this Jason."

Muhausen: "Oh, then not agreed."

Fernandez and Mulhausen argued back and forth for a few minutes until Kornfeld, the Director of Finance, interrupted:

"I have a solution," he said. "Keep them both. I'll just mortgage a headcount from next year."

I looked at Kornfeld sideways, as did everyone else.

Kornfeld continued: "I can't increase headcount for this year, so I'll mortgage a head from the increase in headcount we're going to get next year. We don't own it yet; we just borrow it until we do."

"What if they cut headcount next year?" I asked.

"Then we'll move to plan B."

"Which is?"


Now I share an office with Jason Y. And I'm finding that he is actually very likable, which is another reason I hate him.

I started the new year off with a bang, all right...



On my first day back in the office alive again I wanted my entrance to be unspectacular. I wanted to walk in as if I had never been dead

I arrived a little early and caught the elevator alone. But before the doors could close, a hand popped through and opened them back up again. 

Plotkin from Accounting walked in, kept his eyes low as he always does and took his place on the other side of the elevator. Once the doors closed, I asked him how his long weekend was. He started to answer, but recognized my voice, looked up and then pressed his back hard up against the side of the elevator. 

We just stared at each other for a moment. Then finally: 

"You're dead," Plotkin said.

"Oh," I said. "I thought everyone was just ignoring me. Dead though, that makes sense. Well... Finally, someone who can see me."

Plotkin turned away and said: "I can't see you."

"Well, at least you can hear me."

I can't hear you either. 

Don't be afraid," I said. "It's a gift."

We arrived at his floor and he bolted off the elevator and galloped down the hallway. I love fucking with Plotkin.

Walking toward my office, I ran into Lucia, who was still wearing black, the good Catholic that she is. She had just placed flowers, a statuette of the Virgin Mary, and a pair of black panties in front of my office door. 

She stopped, stunned when she saw me.

"You're dead," she said.

"I keep hearing that," I said. 

She was convinced she was seeing a spirit. 

"See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself;" I said. "Handle me, and see; for a spirit has not flesh and bones as you see that I have."

She didn't recognize the Bible reference; she giggled.

"You said, handle me," she snorted. "It is you... Who else says that shit?"

Apparently just me and Jesus.

She gave me a big hug and told me she was relieved I wasn't dead, praised Jesus that I was okay and said that we had some sodomy to make up for.

I was really enjoying this and thinking I should die more often. I started estimating how many erections I'd have this first week back from all the wild dead/alive sex--and the number was staggering. It was going to be a great week. Well, it was going to be great until I arrived at my office.

I walked past my assistant Teri with no intention of stopping and explaining why I was not dead. She spit her coffee out and and came running after me. She's very resilient and immediately got over the dead/alive thing without needing an explanation and was on to the next dilemma. 

"I'm glad you're not dead," she blurted out. "But there's something you should know..."

I ignored her pleas to stop and discuss, and headed into my office. 

I was surprised to find man sitting at my desk. He looked familiar, although I'm sure I've never seen him before. It's just that he looked, well... Like me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He looked up and smiled. "I'm Jason."

Uh... Huh? 

"I know, it's weird," he continued. "I was hired to replace another Jason who apparently died. You probably knew him."

Replaced? I'd only been dead for a week and they already replaced me? With another Jason?

"Excuse me," I said, irritated. "I'm Jason. This is my office."

He looked at me confused. "You're Jason?" he asked. "But... You're dead."

See how easily the fun can be stripped out of something so entertaining as death? I can't say I wasn't warned. My plans always seem so rock solid. That is, until they go completely awry.

"Wow..." He said. "What are they going to do with two Jasons?"

Not shit. 


Speaking from the Grave

There are definitely advantages and disadvantages to being dead. 


  1. You do less. People expect much less of you at work when you're no longer alive. Assignments go to other people, emails and calls go to other people, and you don't have to attend meetings that accomplish nothing.
  2. You're praised more. With mournful respect, people give you undue praise for things other people accomplished. You get credit for more.
  3. Juggling women is much less stressful. Time management is a breeze.
  4. Nobody talks to you. They all have to go through God first. Someone wants to get a message to you, they have to pray. And the beauty of this is, God is not very good at taking messages so you never have to answer back.


  1. You don't get laid. It's very difficult to fuck a dead person. Not that I've ever tried, but flirting and seduction doesn't get you anywhere. And praying to God usually doesn't get you laid, especially if you're trying to fuck someone 6 feet under.
  2. No sympathy sex because you're dead. Because, well, you're dead. So at least not for you. The women you used to fuck are probably getting sympathy sex all over the place for their "loss". 
  3. You can't be sarcastic in meetings. Mainly because you're no longer invited to the meetings. Which is a pro. But it also means you can't be an ass and ruin someone's day. So sad.
  4. You can't expense lunches. Finance will never approve an expense report from a dead guy.

My Users have sent numerous emails to Smithee trying to get more information.

Lucia is saddened that she'll won't be sodomized by me anymore. She'll probably get more religious.

Kelsey won't get laid but will still be accused of fucking around by her fiancé because I died, not Kornfeld.

Fiona the Cunt probably wishes she still hated me so that she could celebrate, but instead she has to mourn the guy who might be responsible for her slutty sister's death.

Maricruz still thinks she's insane, so I don't think she's noticed.

Blair doesn't believe I'm dead. Mainly because she's suspicious of everything connected to me. I don't think she'll believe it unless she sees my cold dead body on a slab at the morgue. She's tried asking Kessler and Gladstone, but they just respond with: I can't talk about it yet...

Other Users are deeply saddened. They were expecting orgasms this week.

Mulhausen is apparently just giddy with glee. He can't even pretend to be sad that I'm dead.

Fernandez is probably just as giddy, but this is his opportunity to look like a saint by praising me and by making politically correct statements like: He wasn't only a great employee, but a dear friend...

Well, the company is a-buzz with excitement and the new year has come alive. I accomplished my goal. Another day or two and I'll rise like Christ and everyone who praised me will be fucked because now I'll have leverage to get promoted.

Death has been kind to me. 

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