Today I had a manager at work ask me to check in with someone to see if they had any questions about our Office Golf event.
I work for an investment company, and the person who asked me easily makes 50 grand a year and the person I had to ask easily makes 100 grand a year. Keeping that in mind, let me just repeat that.
Today I had a manager at work ask me to check in with someone to see if they had any questions about our Office Golf event.
If you're still reading this I commend you, because when this was asked of me, I almost killed myself right there in front of everyone.
That's how corporate America works, kids. They take 20 minutes worth of work that one person could easily blow through and then chop that into about 50 little pieces. Then they assign other people to complete the pieces, thereby absolving themselves of any wrongdoing should any of the people assigned to the pieces happen to mess up. It also makes them look like they've coordinated something when they haven't coordinated anything except for the coordination of needlessly complicating easily remedied problems. It's bullshit and it makes my soul convulse like a genetically mutated lab rat, cry like an orphaned Jewish kid on Christmas, and bleed blue sadness blood, but it's how you look good at an investment firm.
Think about it. Someone took the time to actually formulate an idea that so-and-so needs to be asked if they have questions. Then they took the time to add that idea to an agenda and asked if anyone would mind taking that task. Now something which could have been handled by simply walking 100 feet to a person's office and having a 20 second conversation is a line item that needs to be checked off of a list. Or an email. That would have worked at any time of the day from any connected computer in the world.
So since it was my task and since we needed to make sure this was done, I did it via email. I did that instead of walking to the person's office because I figured, "Fuck it. Why not waste the most time humanly possible to ask this one ridiculous question?" I actually wished we had some homing pigeons to delay it further. And not even good ones either. I'm talking disreputable, illiterate homing pigeons with drinking problems.
My all-important email went like this:
"I have been asked by the Office Golf Committee to reach out to you to ensure that you don't have any questions about Office Golf.
Lisa, do you have any questions about Office Golf? The drafted rules are attached. Thanks."
That's what my life has somehow become. The grown adult who makes at least 50 grand a year wants you to check to see if the grown adult that makes over 100 grand a year understands the office golf rules.
I should have just done the world a favor and killed myself right then. I mean a big mess too. I mean like Desert Eagle .50 to the temple. Brains all over the wall and stuff. That would have fucked up their whole office golf thing. Mrs. 100K-Per-Year would be doing CRAZY stuff like pissing in the golf holes and
telling the other contestants they are pussies and maybe she'd flick a few of the gents in the penis or something. People would think, "Jesus. If Porch hadn't blown his brains out, this could have been avoided and she would have just putted like a normal person who makes 100 K a year and gets asked questions that a retarded, blind, drunken, retarded gorilla knows the answers to. Too bad that now she flicks dicks, calls people pussies, and pisses all willy-nilly."
On top of that, I found out that the dog in the picture is way cooler than I am. That's demoralizing.
You just gotta love corporate America. Come on now. The manager is too important to walk 100 ft to deal with that. She's too busy trying to look busy, while she truly is not. I feel for you my friend.
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