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I was at a mandatory sensitivity training session this week and had to listen to bullshit stories about racism and sexism in the workplace as told by actual victims™.
After an hour and a half of no-selling stories about microaggressions committed against protected minorities and being careful not to publicly announce one's preference over Mexican or Chinese food in a demeaning and hurtful way, It was Rajpauljeet's turn to talk about his internalized racial trauma (despite him making six figures and living in a gated community).
Literally shaking with poo-covered fingernails digging into his furrowed brow and sobbing with shit-scented tears, he brought up Supershow 2017 where Jinder jobbed to Triple H and literally bowed the FUCK down to the King of Kings. He said it didn't make sense for Jinder to lose because he has bigger muscles and eats 3 whole chickens a day.
I could no longer contain my disdain for this abuse and mockery of not only my career but also my passion for professional wrestling so I said the word right then and there — I called Rajpauljeet a fucking mark.
I then stormed out of the room with both arms raised flipping the double bird like Austin did. I was followed by a line of catty HR bitches hissing and shrieking at me so I turned to them and shouted, "THIS ENGINE DOESN'T NEED A HO-TRAIN" They immediately stopped their incessant harpy talk and looked confused and somewhat scared. I followed up by yelling, "AM I FUCKING GOING OVER!?" When I finally got outside, I started up my truck and decided to ram a folding traffic barricade but apparently it wasn't gimmicked and now there's a big ass dent in my bumper.
It's Saturday morning now and Laticia from HR has e-mailed me threatening to terminate my contract with cause; a terribly compressed .jpg of one of Meltzer's tweets comparing "mark" to the "n-word" is also attached. I replied "Take this job and stick it where the sun don't shine, ya roody-poo candy ass!" She replied back, "Nah that's you."
