Why People Need Therapy

Back at my favorite den of nightmarish memories, that stinking old horse’s ass, Mr. Panty Waist once called me on a cold, Monday, November morning and said, in his best whine, “I left my client pass on my desk in the office. I have to meet someone at the client’s at 11. Someone needs to walk over to [the client] with my pass and give it to me.”

Naturally “Someone” meant ME since there was no other idiot there stupid enough to do it and he damn well knew it. I could only pray that by “give it to me” he meant “And bring a cast iron frying pan and bash me over the head with it until there is no piece of my skull remaining that is bigger than a quarter.” But I knew that was wishful thinking. That man would live to be 312 and I’d have to hear about it every day.

“Sure!” I said, skipping around my desk, ecstatically as I looked for silly string and some celebratory balloons! “I mean it’s only 25 degrees Fahrenheit outside and I’ve only been in bed all weekend with flu and I’m suffering from the sore throat of the century, aching limbs and I sound like I need a tracheotomy but I’d love a two mile walk in the wind to give you your building pass, even though you’re in a warm car which is practically driving past the office where your pass currently resides and despite the fact that you are also able to sign in at the client’s as a visitor without the pass, certainly I’ll bring it to you, I’d love to! I mean, I have nothing else to do here!!!”

OK I didn’t quite say that… I said “Fuck off and die you needy, whiny, ungrateful slimeball.”

Well, maybe I didn’t say that either but it was THIS close. THIS close.

I threw on about ten layers of clothing and took the pass over like he asked. Even though it was 2 miles round trip and it was cold as a witch’s tit he wouldn’t let me take a cab because, “We’re cutting down on unnecessary expenses!” Silly old fucker. “Unnecessary expenses” obviously didn’t include his daily transport via town car service to and from work twice a day, from home, for which he would slyly bill the client under some vague job description.

I took a nice, toasty bus back and raided the petty cash upon my return to reimburse myself. I quickly counted the contents of the tin to see if maybe there was enough left for a hit man but alas it was not to be.

Mr. Panty Waist, let me point out, had no idea what a bus or a subway was. I think if you stood him on the street and plonked a bus down in front of him, he’d stare at it, a big frown digging a trench in his brow, shake his head sadly and say, “No. No, sorry. I have no idea what that is. Is it a typewriter?”

I truly believe if someone forced him to take public transport to work he’d be so baffled he’d stay home until someone fetched him. Which would be never.

And really, that doesn’t sound too bad…


20 Responses to “Why People Need Therapy”

  1. T Says:

    Super Glue on the ring of his coffee cup or a crowbar. You should have made the right choice… -Both!

  2. The Guv'ner Says:

    Damn. Where were you when I worked for that waste of space, T.? You could’ve saved me so much aggravation.

    And is that a little Scotsman golfing in your icon? Can I borrow his club?

  3. pistols at dawn Says:

    Maybe if you’d put out once in awhile, you could have gotten a ride.


  4. The Guv'ner Says:


  5. pistols at dawn Says:

    Maybe some jumping jacks? And would it kill you to bake a cake in the shape of Erik Estrada once in awhile?

  6. The Guv'ner Says:

    What? The Fonzie “SIT ON IT!” penis cake wasn’t good enough for you?

  7. Laaw-yuhr Says:

    Ah, the archetypal jackass male boss, who never seems to mind making a lady jump through hoops. I like to think there’s a special circle of hell for them.

  8. The Guv'ner Says:

    You know, I think just the intense pain of LIVING is probably punishment enough for them.

    HA! That’s funny. They need to BURN AND DIE.

  9. Bert Bananas Says:

    Yes, yes, but will you ever write a post in praise of that one rare peach of a man who was a decent boss?

    This is why those of us who grew up being ‘nice’ despair that we never get anonymous sex.

  10. The Guv'ner Says:

    Thing is B. my other boss – the one I just left during the move? HE was a decent, awesome boss. He took me for lunch and a beer last week since I was moving. Problem is, he’s cool and nice and fun and that leaves me nothing to get psychotic over. I only WRITE about the IRRITATING ones!!!

  11. The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: Says:

    Where I come from even the regular working people don’t use public tranportation. I rode the bus and the people I worked with thought it was because I had a DUI and offered me rides all the time. They pitied me.

  12. The Guv'ner Says:

    Haha, too funny! I think NYC and the rest of America are two totally different animals. Hardly anyone in Manhattan has a car compared to elsewhere – it’s pointless and expensive, so everyone relies on public transport. I actually hate that I live somewhere I can’t own a car because I love to drive. Sniff. Plus driving means not sharing your ride with 300 other sweaty people in a twelve foot radius.

  13. Chris Says:

    I had the same experience as The Lady. My mother-in-law gave us a couple bicycles she found in her basement, so I started riding to work every day. The very first day I rode my bicycle to work I had three friends call to offer condolences on my drunk driving arrest. “No, no, no…” I told them. “I just want to ride my bicycle to work is all.” None of them believed me.

    I still ride the bike though. There’s a neat bike path that goes from half a block north of my house all the way to the historic district of town where the neat pubs are, so I can pedal my drunken @ss home after an eve of sampling various bocks and ales.

  14. The Guv'ner Says:

    Chris: While I was living in England, I once biked home from a night in the pub (on a sort of wide sidewalk by a main road where there are no pedestrians.) Riding bikes on the sidewalk is generally illegal for the most part so the cops stopped me and asked what I thought I was doing having the audacity to ride on the pedestrian-free sidewalk, to which my cider-ridden brain scoffed, “Jeeze officer, I am HAMMERED do you want me driving on the road?” I don’t think it was the answer they were looking for exactly…

  15. Chris Says:


    I know several people in my hometown (population 8,000) who have been arrested for leaving their cars at the bar and walking home. Public Intoxication. Anyone walking on the sidewalks after a certain time at night can get picked up for suspicious behavior — if you’ve been drinking, you get a ticket.

    Kinda sucks.

  16. The Idea Of Progress Says:

    I was away from all of my blogs for a little while, and forgot how much I like the way you write.

  17. The Guv'ner Says:

    Mr. Idea: You are so kind to me. I might have to squeeze my giant head through the door frame and take it out to show my majesty to the world later. You know, once I’ve finished my coffee. Thank you. 🙂

  18. Chris Says:

    Hey, Guv’ — I did a dumb thing today and ended up moving one of my web sites to a different server. This caused much woe and gnashing of teeth, several of which were mine. One unexpected casualty was my blog, which lives at http://radloffthoughts.blogspot.com/ now.

    Sorry for the inconvenience!

  19. The Guv'ner Says:

    Well Mr. Chris dude, that would explain why I kept getting an error message last night while trying to get to your site! I thought I was just banned for being naturally offensive but phew! 🙂 Changing link now.

  20. Chris Says:

    Thanks. Again, sorry for the hassle.

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