Hiring Time at the Corporate Ranch
(I'm not sure what inspired this post exactly, as I have no real axes to grind at all these days. I suppose then that this was simply composed as an unconscious means by which to work out some long overdue officeplace PMS.)
It’s hiring time at the Corporate Ranch once again!
Yes, it’s time again for all the eager-beaver over-achievers to don their Sunday best and strut up and down the office work aisles like horny peacocks in the spring, in anticipation of either a job interview that day, or just in order to be recognized by the superior Corporate powers-that-be as the consummate qualified professional worthy of leading others into battle each day.
Let them leap into the foray, dance the dance, and willingly sell their souls to the Corporate Devil for all I care! As long as they keep 15 feet from my work area at all times and don't try to "Career Path" me, everything will be just fine.
For an unprofessional, unaspiring, wage donkey like myself, this is just too much fun to watch as all the promotion-hopefuls begin to plot, conspire, maneuver and attempt to one-up each other in a bid to be noticed by management.
It’s like watching monkeys fuck a coconut.
I’m pleased with myself for being just the lowly unassuming jack-of-all-trades, yet master-of –nothing employee. The employee who can easily slip from cubicle to cubicle and adapt to whatever skill is required at the time in order to maintain a steady paycheck. I find a quiet dignity in performing my humble duties simply to the best of my abilities, unhindered by the extra higher-up expectations and restrictions, apart from that of common sense of course, and in allowing others to think that they in fact, are the more qualified and management worthy.
Let them run themselves ragged at no extra pay until they collapse from exhaustion and corporate frustration. They’re welcome to it. Shit, have a coronary on me! My sanity is more important to me these days. I’m happy to sit on my ass with the other schleps with six toes and buckteeth, most of which, probably wouldn’t even qualify to manage the cafeteria at K-Mart. No problems at all! At least I'm keeping in with the minions of little "real" people, without whom, the business would fail to prosper. There is safety in numbers.
I look at it this way: I come, I sit, I get paid, I go home.
I can take pride in the fact that I can still feel free to express myself and truly be myself, not some carbon copy personality as detailed by the latest Human Resource mandate. And if being a whiney Corporate Jackass is what gets me through the day unscathed, then so be it. Why fuck with a winning formula? As long as I can leave the moment my shift is over, collect my pay to the minute, and nobody is banging down my office door five minutes before I’m getting ready to go home with a stack of manuals and computer-generated flow charts that need to be rechecked and resubmitted for circulation in the next 30 minutes - I’m a happy fucking employee!
I may not be laughing all the to the bank, but I’ll sure as shit be giggling all the way to the Dollar Store when my newly promoted manager suffers a brain aneurysm after they realize that they haven bitten off more responsibility than they can chew and I’m not going to be there afterhours to help straighten out their empty promises and corporate clusterfucks.
It’s hiring time at the Corporate Ranch once again!
Yes, it’s time again for all the eager-beaver over-achievers to don their Sunday best and strut up and down the office work aisles like horny peacocks in the spring, in anticipation of either a job interview that day, or just in order to be recognized by the superior Corporate powers-that-be as the consummate qualified professional worthy of leading others into battle each day.
Let them leap into the foray, dance the dance, and willingly sell their souls to the Corporate Devil for all I care! As long as they keep 15 feet from my work area at all times and don't try to "Career Path" me, everything will be just fine.
For an unprofessional, unaspiring, wage donkey like myself, this is just too much fun to watch as all the promotion-hopefuls begin to plot, conspire, maneuver and attempt to one-up each other in a bid to be noticed by management.
It’s like watching monkeys fuck a coconut.
I’m pleased with myself for being just the lowly unassuming jack-of-all-trades, yet master-of –nothing employee. The employee who can easily slip from cubicle to cubicle and adapt to whatever skill is required at the time in order to maintain a steady paycheck. I find a quiet dignity in performing my humble duties simply to the best of my abilities, unhindered by the extra higher-up expectations and restrictions, apart from that of common sense of course, and in allowing others to think that they in fact, are the more qualified and management worthy.
Let them run themselves ragged at no extra pay until they collapse from exhaustion and corporate frustration. They’re welcome to it. Shit, have a coronary on me! My sanity is more important to me these days. I’m happy to sit on my ass with the other schleps with six toes and buckteeth, most of which, probably wouldn’t even qualify to manage the cafeteria at K-Mart. No problems at all! At least I'm keeping in with the minions of little "real" people, without whom, the business would fail to prosper. There is safety in numbers.
I look at it this way: I come, I sit, I get paid, I go home.
I can take pride in the fact that I can still feel free to express myself and truly be myself, not some carbon copy personality as detailed by the latest Human Resource mandate. And if being a whiney Corporate Jackass is what gets me through the day unscathed, then so be it. Why fuck with a winning formula? As long as I can leave the moment my shift is over, collect my pay to the minute, and nobody is banging down my office door five minutes before I’m getting ready to go home with a stack of manuals and computer-generated flow charts that need to be rechecked and resubmitted for circulation in the next 30 minutes - I’m a happy fucking employee!
I may not be laughing all the to the bank, but I’ll sure as shit be giggling all the way to the Dollar Store when my newly promoted manager suffers a brain aneurysm after they realize that they haven bitten off more responsibility than they can chew and I’m not going to be there afterhours to help straighten out their empty promises and corporate clusterfucks.
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