It seems to me, the higher you rise on the corporate ladder, the more marbles you lose along the way. By the time you’re CEO or CFO or some other high echelon of authority, you’re probably spending your private moments alienating your family, painting on your face with crayons and calling yourself “Susan”.

Every single person with a high end title, that I’ve worked for, has been completely and utterly clueless about the real world and its inner workings. One of my ex-bosses, a squat, timid, bearded, gloomy little man with the mind of a genius in certain areas and that of a medical vegetable in others, thought a loaf of bread cost “about nine dollars”. Well yeah, if you have it sprayed in 24ct gold and hand delivered by Celine Dion, maybe… Another boss, the previously mentioned Mr. Panty-Waist, used to have me scope out the corridor before he went to the bathroom to make sure no one clocked him sneaking in there with his Wall Street Journal each day. Boy, I felt bad for anyone who had a desk up near the men’s room. Mr. Panty-Waist would creep back down that corridor after 20 minutes of polluting the air with his acrid bathroom doings, followed by a dark, odorific cloud of nasty that could be smelled for hours and cause severe cases of “lemon face” to anyone caught in its caustic path. This was only the tip of the Mr. Panty-Waist iceberg of strange. I’m sure I’ll mention the rest as we progress.

My point is, there is no such thing as a “normal” boss when you get to a certain point. The tiny morsel of power they have acquired goes straight into their dome-like heads and is immediately converted into irrationality and craziness on a mountainous scale. If you want a sane person in an office, find a secretary.


6 Responses to “Bosses”

  1. katrocket Says:

    For the record, I have never, at any time, hand delivered golden bread to an executive.

    — Celine Dion

  2. The Guv'ner Says:

    Haha! It’s funny because just yesterday I was reading your Celine Dion stuff in your blog and chortling madly to myself.

    How’s that shifty, grey haired, beardy guy you have ‘The Sexuals’ with?

  3. katrocket Says:

    It sounds so dirty when you say it like that.

    Mon dieu, I wish.

  4. The Guv'ner Says:

    Seriously, there is something not right about some old, grey geezer of a manager who marries his 21 year old protege and then forces her to spawn with him. I mean I’d be all for it if she’d given up singing afterwards but no such luck. Sorry Celine…:)

  5. pistols at dawn Says:

    I want to get to the point where people are scouting the bathrooms so that I take care of my actual business. Although at that point, shouldn’t you get your own bathroom? From the sound of the smell, preferably in another building?

  6. The Guv'ner Says:

    The money corporations make you’d think they could spare some moolah for some extractor fans or something. Honestly, our ladies room in the afternoon smells like a night after a bad curry in Calcutta (interspersed with the scent of perfume). I have to hold my breath, pee really fast, wash my hands and get out before I suffocate and die.

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