There was an office party today. Or as the chief moron likes to call them, a major event. By which he means that he gets to get patted on the back for my work.

I love the anane and banal chatter. It comforts me to have proof that I really am smarter than anyone in this company. In fact, it's so exciting that next time I'm going to wear body armour. I don't want to make it too easy for all the backstabbers.

The chief moron actually waved me over to his circle. Only to hand me his drink and ask me for a refill. 

Grrr...I don't believe, waiter, is part of my job description. My many talents does not include forced labour.

He never once introduced me to his fellow managers or the corporate bigwigs that he was talking to. Of course, I have no right to know anything. In the corporate food chain, I am plankton. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.

Note to self:  Plan near death experience right before the next scheduled office party. The idiot manager might excuse me from attending. Though I doubt it. Who would he trust to get his refills? Yes, I will have a refill for him.
The idiot manager stopped by my office today. He wasted my entire morning when I could be doing something useful, such as hacking into his computer and sending thousands of dating requests to desperate women, complete with his personal vid address. I'm sure his wife would be gratified to know that he is never lonely.

Yawn. He must mistake me for someone who cares about his petty little problems. Yes, no one else has any and it's nice to know someone is less fortunate than I am (at twenty times my salary). I especially like the story about him having to pay so much taxes on the bonus check that he received for being such a good manager, on my work.

Note:  Must remember to 'accidentally' send one of those dating requests to his wife.
If you give me more than one job to do, don't tell me which is priority. The idiot manager must mistake me for an Auronar. Or a psychic.

And if you have special instructions for a job, don't write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.

I've decided that this job is no longer worth my time and energy. Why benefit these fools with my considerable intelligence when they're too stupid to appreciate my contributions? If it weren't for me, this department would have been in serious trouble. I've saved their deadlines time and again and what thanks do I get? Everyone applauds them for what I achieved. I am not here to build the reputation of people who can't afford to think. Apparently thinking interferes with the bottom line.

Note to self:  I have decided that the only way to escape these fools is to acquire enough wealth that I won't need them anymore. The problem now, of course, is how to acquire such wealth.
If my arms are full of trays of data crystals and other supplies, don't open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic and opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever be injured and lose all use of my limbs. Of course he had to crowd me as he went by, even though there was plenty of room.  I nearly lost the whole load. The bastard.

I'm sick of these posturing fools who think they can get away with pushing me around just because they can.

Note to self:  Need to research telekinesis. Or techniques on dealing with fools masquerading as managers.

Yes, I know that I'm the best there is in my field. And yes, I don't mind being given the most difficult problems to solve. It's a boost to my ego that I can handle things that no one else can.

But do run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it's going. That helps. Or even better, hover behind me, advising me at every keystroke. That helps immensely

Do you remember that I am the best in my field or are you suffering from short term memory loss? There are cures for that, it's called amputation.

Note to self:  What would free me from having to work under such fools? Preferably something that won't result in my being sent to a penal colony.

Once again, the idiot of a manager treats me as if I'm little more than an instrument to advance his career. He had no qualms about assigning me an important task ten minutes before the end of the day. This is happening with disturbing frequency. He must think I would find the challenge of a deadline refreshing.

Yes, do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. I have no life beyond work.

This must stop. I am no one's lackey.

Note to self:  I must step up my efforts to find an alternative. In the few spare moments not spent working.
Appended Note:  Who am I fooling? I have no spare moments. The man apparently thinks I'm his slave.
Extra Appended Note: Research methods of body disposal.
I have always been of the opinion that managers are fools. It is comforting to know that I'm right. There is a particular brand of stupidity that seems to be required of those in authority.

Case in point: The moron who was assigned to oversee my division (over someone infinitely more qualified, I might add)  is starting to make me feel that my only chance for career advancement is outside of 'official' channels.

Note to self:  Begin exploring options for someone of my considerable intelligence and talents.