When You Care Enough To Do The Very Least
As my reputation for complete and utter superiority and haughtiness knows no boundaries, I finally responded to Donnybrook’s frequent requests to contribute to their fine institution of elitism. Ever since then I’ve been inundated with letters from my many followers, clamoring for some kind of light in the darkness that is their mediocre middle class existence. To that I say – What the fuck are you doing reading this in the first place? This isn’t for you. Now go back to your daily viewing of “Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector” and let us grown up’s talk.
So then, let’s continue. Now that the days are getting gorgeous again, I’m told by Daddy’s accountants that this is the time of year when people who work start to get a little stir crazy being stuck inside of an office. I can’t imagine how annoying it must be to have to work, let alone in such close proximity to other people – Fauntleroy and I have a “no eye contact” rule for everyone that we come into contact with for this exact reason. Nothing kills a fantastic mood more than looking up and into the eyes of some sad-eyed downtrodden nobody. Usually a good “Who gives you the right to be in my line of sight?!?!?” does the trick and averts the eyes back down to the ground – where they belong.
So, out of the kindness of my heart, and my hearts need to spread condescension and snobbery to all that it comes in contact with, here is my response to one of my fans who is having some difficulty separating the line between subordinate and superior – while I’ve never personally been guilty of not letting everyone around me know their place, I’ve heard that this can happen quite a bit in democratic societies where peasants are lead to believe they have just as much say as the aristocracy. Enjoy. And you’re welcome.
I have five employees working for me and I know they make fun of me when I turn my back. One day when I left the office, I had to quickly walk back in and heard the Darth Vader theme song being played on one of their PCs. I was so mad I fired the first person I saw and said some questionable things about their mother–right on the spot. The problem was it was one of those “Ex-Cons for Hire” folks we did as an outreach program in El Salvador. Should I be worried?
- Scared in San Jose
Not in the least! Five employees working for you – well, now four – equals four human shields ready for the taking. If your staff doesn’t want you to start requiring one of them to meet you at your car every morning and escort you out of the building every night – remind them that this is their fault in the first place. If you’re feeling generous, tell them they can get this all taken care of as soon as the person with the babiest sounding voice calls up your ex-employee’s parole officer and tells them that they were just touched inappropriately in their no-no place.
What concerns me more is this unwarranted need for your underlings’ approval. When did it become a requirement to be liked when you’re in charge? Not a day went by in my childhood that I didn’t hear Great-Granddaddy Arabella wax nostalgic about the days when a good worker could be found just by taking a trip down to the orphanage – none of them required a silly thing like a ‘lunch break’ – they were perfectly happy working while sifting the dust out of their porridge – you just can’t find commitment like that anymore.
With the advent of labor unions after the glory days of Great-Granddaddy’s Industrial Revolution, peasants have wrongfully been given the impression that they somehow deserve fair and ethical treatment at the hands of their employers. Never mind that there are plenty of immigrants, single-mothers, and runaways looking for a job – no, these people seem to think that they’re somehow irreplaceable. It’s your job as their boss to constantly remind them just how expendable they truly are. Employees SHOULD be humming the Imperial March (didn’t think I’d know THAT lingo, now did you? Suck it nerdlings!) when you enter or exit a room. In fact, that should be mandatory. I personally prefer the theme song from the movie “Halloween” when I decide to grace the halls of Arabella Mining Co., but your employees have made a worthy selection.
I strongly suggest a heavy dose of “place-putting” needs to be administered to these slackers as soon as humanly possible. On Monday, let them all find out that their desks, chairs, and computers have been removed. Then enjoy the hilarity at making them work to get these items back. Perhaps set up a gold star chart in the break room (if you’re soft enough to have provided them with one). Make sure they realize that a place to sit while they work is a privilege, not a right – as is the ability to go the bathroom, take a break, breathe, you get the idea. Put your big boy pants on and show these glorified day laborers whose boss – Vader wouldn’t put up with that shit and neither should you.
Please remember that if I am anything, it’s a giver, and I love nothing more than to tell you how to live your life, because frankly, I’ll do a much better job of it – write me at AskAlistair@gmail.com and if I’m drunk/bored/high enough, I’ll respond by putting you on blast in this column, as I don’t engage in direct conversation with anyone that’s beneath me.