Oh Snitches

So I just got an email sent out to my team (the group of mercenaries I roam the office with doing similar types of mindless tasks) about how my snitches had a few non-billable hours last week.

Holy shit.

Listen up snitches.

You are a snitch, and the only thing worst than a snitch is a fucking temp snitch. If you put down that you just sat there and did nothing for 2 hours one day because I was too busy to assign work for you, then you threaten your own delicate fucking existence. Here is why:

The case manager (he will recieve his own "Kill Me Now" moniker soon enough, there are just way too many possibilities at this point) sees that you don't have any hours billed and he freaks out. He has to approve and give out your time sheet to Party Girl, who is going to freak out because anything that the firm has to pay for is gonna get noticed by the big partner who is in charge of all that shit. That is literally all the big partner cares about. He doesn't want the firm to spend one fucking penny more than it has to for anything. In not billing your hours, you have basically kicked the sleeping giant that is this big partner, and he is not going to say "why don't these snitches have any work to do", he is going to say "eliminate those costs immediately".

You know what that means snitches?

That means you take your fucking informant status out of protective custody and on to the streets. Believe me when I tell you that your temp snitch status is well known, and those gang member temps from the last agency we used are gonna smell you out and eat you for fucking dinner.

The moral of this story is that even if you sit and do nothing for a few hours, say you did something. Bill those hours as having to wait for me or something. Or, since you fucking love work so much that you have to ask me for shit to do every 15 minutes, find something to do. Rearrange the cabinets, put away files, vacuum the floor. I do not give a fuck. Just do something and preferably leave me alone while your doing it.