What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
EDITOR’S NOTE: The Unknown Blogger has made several appearances here at Dubsism, and this won’t be the last. He has finally agreed to be a regular contributor here even though he left the world of professional sports journalism a few years back vowing never to return.
It’s OK because this blog is anything but professional.
This is a six-part installment of “The Deep Six” because the The Unknown Blogger has been in the American workforce long enough to have plenty of opinions (36 of them to be exact) on the people you find in it. You can see the other installments here:
Most of us have jobs, which means unless you are re-incarnation of Mahatma Fucking Gandhi, we all have at least one co-worker we’d like to drown in a toilet stall. If you’re like me, you might just have more than one. The reasons why we don’t like them are as numerous as those annoying-ass people themselves. Let’s be honest. common decency and civility got euthanized in this country decades ago. Maybe I shouldn’t use that term. “Euthanize” sounds like there was a gentleness in it’s death; what we collectively did to common decency and civility made the St. Valentine’s Massacre look like it was preceded by a candlelight dinner with wine and roses.
Having said that, I’m here to break down the various types of co-workers we can all agree need to be lined up against a wall in front of a belt-fed machine gun> But to offer the age old test…if you look through this list and don’t see one of the types mentioned, consider the possibility it may very be you.
24) The “Fuck-Up“
This may very well be the most universal entry on this list. Every single one of us has that jerk-off in their office who just can’t help but fuck up everything they touch. At first, you might just think it’s because they have a room-temperature IQ. Then you realize they not only lack the mental capacity to accomplish anything positive, they are totally devoid of the emotional stability required to do anything more complex than make coffee. Don’t worry, they can find a way to fuck that up too.
23) Cubicle “Cobra Kai”
Bullies don’t stop being bullies because they leave high school. They just morph; your office likely doesn’t have a guy who wears a jean jacket with the sleeves removed and slugs you in the gut to take your lunch money. Today’s office “bully” is a product of “identity politics.” They are a member of a “protected class,” and they make sure you know that. They also make sure that any slight (perceived or not) directed toward them will be reported to HR.
Once that happens, the “Human Resource McCarthy-ites” all think you’re a
racist sexist homophobe (insert “toxic” label here). The minute the McCarthy-ites hang a tag on you, it’s only a matter of time before they comb through your social media to find a reason to shit-can your ass. That’s all because of one dick-breath in accounting who thinks everything is about his being (insert “protected class” here).
22) The “Toxic Avenger“
This isn’t the same as the “Planet Saver” who stinks like piss because they use
environmentally-friendly useless laundry detergent. No, this person simply reeks from basic laziness. After all, basic hygiene really isn’t hard, especially in a country predominated with indoor plumbing. I can understand having an occasional reek if you have to hand-haul water from a well five miles away. But every American knows somebody whose constantly smells of over-ripe ass or has breath which could ignite your nose hair.
Worse yet, there’s no good way to tell them they stink. They never get the hint when at the holiday “Secret Santa” gift exchange they get industrial-grade mouthwash or a super-tanker sized vat of shower gel. The direct approach doesn’t work either. If you tell somebody they smell like a giant pile of rhino shit fermenting in the African sun, they go straight to HR. Then you’re right back to the “bully” problem.
21) The “Fake” Supervisor
The one trait the “fake” supervisor shares with the “real” ones is the proclivity for spouting orders. The difference is that’s actually the “real” one’s job. The other is just a bossy pain-in-the-ass. The “fake” supervisor” usually has deluded themselves into a self-aggrandizing justification for their bossy assholery because they know everything/know what’s best about everything. In reality, what they actually know would comfortably fit up their ass while leaving plenty of room for their inflated head.
The great irony of the “fake” supervisor is they are blissfully unaware that everybody in their management up-chain knows they are completely unpromotable. Every “real” supervisor and manager can see what assholes they are and that’s only getting worse if they are given even the smallest bit of actual power. Not to mention, they are far too likely to say the wrong thing to the wrong person (see Cubicle “Cobra Kai”). Then everybody has to go through countless hours of mandatory “sensitivity” training.
20) The “Real” Supervisor
There’s a strict definition here. There are some supervisors who actually know their shit. They usually aren’t in this role long, because they either get promoted to management or they get head-hunted by another organization. In this case, I’m talking about lumps who generally have hit their zenith on the way up the corporate ladder. They don’t have what it takes to move up or out, and they are just competent enough to make replacing them more headache than it’s worth. Sadly, they are so numerous they have become the building blocks of corporate America.
In other words, the “real” supervisor for purposes of this discussion is like a tenured college professor. Despite the fact they were never smart enough to get into college, “real” supervisors have still managed to aspire to their own level of incompetence…and they are everywhere. You can’t get rid of them, and worse yet, too many managers value them.
The true value of a “real” supervisor is they are inveterate pieces of shit. Many managers look for this trait when creating a “real” supervisor for one major reason. Front-line supervision is a royal pain-in-the-ass. Nobody wants to do the mundane crap like make work schedules, monitor productivity, and listen to the the bullshit calling in “sick” stories. But somebody has to do it. When a manager can find somebody who is not only willing to put up with that shit, but is also incapable of anything beyond that, it’s literally a “win-win.”
That’s the distinction between the “fake” supervisor” and the “real” ones. The “fakes” showed off their assholery too early, whereas the “real” deal didn’t pull the trigger until they got the title in which they have way too much fucking pride. That’s another way you can tell the “real” supervisor from those who actually know their shit. The ones who have talent garner respect through their ability to do the goddamn job; the “real” supervisor usually has to point out their title to get you to listen to anything they spew.
When it comes to being promotable, as previously mentioned, the “real” supervisor has gone as far as they ever will. Despite that, they will wield their middle management badge like they are the Sherriff of Nottingham Forest lording the Sword of Damocles over their thralls.
“Real” supervisors are the ones in charge late at night at McBurgerQueen. They overvalue their own importance simply because the boss delegates tasks to them nobody else will do. They learned the necessary skills for being the crown prince of BurgerTown by spending four years in high school as the narc-fuck who took names when the teacher left the room.
If they are men, “real” supervisors are almost always named “Brad” or “Mark.” They are usually such dorks they couldn’t get laid in a women’s prison if they had a fistful of keys. Their female counterparts are pre-dominantly named “Ashley” or “Renee,” and even non-geek males would have found them eminently fuckable before they started spending their extended “real” supervisor lunches cruising for drive-thru southern-fried chicken sandwiches.
19) The Landfill
This is one is literal. All you have to do is look at this person’s workspace. Once you do, if you aren’t reminded of a solid waste landfill, you should think about a trip to your local optometrist. This person will have so much trash surrounding them you will wonder why they aren’t being dive-bombed by seagulls or in immanent peril from being buried by a bull-dozer. The other question rattling through your head at this point: Is the stench coming from their garbage or them? (see “Toxic Avenger”).
As the “Countdown King” Casey Kasem would tell you, only 18 to go to get to #1…stay tuned.
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