Monthly Archive for December, 2006

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balls-out boss

My company is really casual. We all wear jeans and T-shirts and there’s even a yoga class once a week. Unfortunately, my boss takes being casual a little too far. He wears very baggy pants and shirts- they’re like two sizes too big. When he doesn’t shave, he looks homeless. But the worst part is that he takes “casual” to apply to his work habits. He puts his smelly feet up on the desk and eats on his lap without a napkin, getting crumbs all over the floor. It’s so gross.

I could tolerate all of habits except for one thing: he scratches his balls. All the time. Sometimes he scratches them so hard I think they’re going to fall off.  He likes to come right up to my desk and scratch his balls while he’s talking to me about something. Since I’m sitting and he’s standing up, his crotch is at eye level! It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. To make matters worse, when I tried to look away he would ask me to pay attention, like he thought I wasn’t listening. Finally, one day I decided to be passive-agressive about it and leave an anonymous typed note on his desk asking him to keep his jock-itching down to a minimum. It must have worked, because he hardly ever does it anymore. -Submitted by Danny, New York City

workplace distractions: our new favorite office game

Some people doodle during meetings. Some people stare at the wall or mentally make their grocery list. Now, try Bullshit Bingo, a game we just discovered online.

Every time you refresh the page, the board has new buzzwords on it. It includes some of the ones we’ve always hated, like “Skill set,” “multitask,” “team player,” and that old chestnut “thinking outside of the box.” (Here’s a hint: if you use the phrase “thinking outside of the box,” you’re not thinking outside of the box.) Make copies for your coworkers and bring them the next time the CEO gives a speech about this quarter’s performance analysis. The first person to get Bingo gets a round of shots the next time you go out for a liquid lunch.

girls just want to quit

It took awhile, but I finally got up the nerve to quit my horrible job where my boss yelled at me from the moment I walked in til the moment I left.  Not only was he a prick, he was a sexist prick.  When I quit, he told me that he refused to accept my resignation because I was “just being emotional, just being a girl.”  As the father to several daughters, one of whom was my age, he thought he was an expert on female behavior. (Maybe if he was, his daughters wouldn’t only call him when they needed money or had to go to rehab.) He insisted it was my “hormones talking” and that I would soon regret leaving him.  I was so horrified that I couldn’t even respond to his stupid comments. The next morning, I got to quit all over again. It was great, except I kept waiting for him to tell me I had PMS and should wait a week to make my decision. -Submitted by Laurie, New York City

birth control, not boss control

My boss, Tooly McDouchebag (TMD), has an issue with boundaries.  One day I came into the office and informed him that I needed to go to the doctor that day.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: I need to go to the doctor today. I’ll skip my lunch.  It shouldn’t take more than an hour.

TMD: Why are you going to the doctor? Are you sick?

Me: I’d really rather not say.

TMD: Well, then why do you have to go today?

Me: I just need to get a prescription.

TMD: What kind of prescription?

Me: Fine. You really want to know? I have to go to the gynecologist to get my birth control refilled.

TMD: Oh. Okay. Have fun.

Fun? Clearly, he has no concept of the duck lips.  Later that day, when I returned:

TMD: So how was the doctor?

Me: Fine. (shifts uncomfortably)

TMD: Did everything go well? Was the doctor nice?

-Submitted by Roxy, Washington, DC

me-fucking-ow

My old boss had two cats, both fittingly high-maintenance. Yes, they were cute, but they both had serious behavioral issues. But that’s not the point of this story. Anyway, my boss roped me into watching them a couple of times while she was out of town at conferences. The first time she asked me to do it, she offered to pay me $250 for a week. Cool, extra money, right? Well, sure. I had to haul my ass up to her apartment during the day to feed the cats, then sit with them for an hour or more because one of them refused to eat. But still, not a big deal. The second time she asked me to watch her cats was over Labor Day weekend. I had a friend coming into town so I would have to schlep her along with me, but I needed the money again so I said yes. At 5pm on the day before my boss was supposed to leave for her trip, she sends me a chat telling me that she’s only going to pay me $180 this time, even though she’ll be gone for the same amount of time and it’s a holiday weekend.

Now, that very morning this woman had spent $80 on a bikini wax and then dropped by the Chanel store to buy a new bag for $1000 (I knew this because when she got back from her excursion, she made me come into her office and ooh and ahh over it for an hour). And now she was trying to pay me less to scrimp some money. Was she fucking kidding me? I told her I needed the full $250. I got the money, but the writing was on the wall. - Submitted by Randi, New York City

the check is in the bag

At my first job out of college, my boss had an odd request. Apparently he had gotten a speeding ticket in Florida in 1995 and was CONVINCED he had paid it off. However, the state of Florida didn’t seem to think so. They had a collections agency on his ass for years. Ten years later, he finally decided he wanted to deal with it. His accountant brought 10 paper bags to my desk. Yeah, you read it right: PAPER BAGS. And what were these paper bags filled with? Cashed checks from the ’90s. My task for the day was to find the check to prove that he paid for this ticket.

These bags were not just filled with checks. They were filled with dust, dirt, grime and BUGS. I was sneezing throughout the day and even got bitten by something. I looked through all ten bags and much to his dismay, I found no check for this speeding ticket. However, I DID find several child support payments to several different women throughout the country! -Submitted by Amy, Raleigh, NC

washington is all about hustling

During a “prestigious” summer job on Capitol Hill, I got to see the inner workings of U.S. congressional offices. During my first week, I was taught which 10% of constituent mail is the 10% that I am not supposed to shred before my congressman sees it.

My congressman was quite fond of the flagship of Larry Flynt’s media dynasty, Hustler Magazine. [Something interesting to note is that Larry Flynt mails a copy of Hustler to every congressional office each month. Even the women, Mormons, and pedophiles in Congress all receive Hustler every month as Flynt's way of reminding everyone about the first amendment.]

During my introductory meeting with my congressman, he brought me into his office to tell me that my dedication will make a difference in the way democracy functions. He asked me what I was studying, if I thought our football team would be good this year, whether I had a girlfriend. He let me ask questions of him and I did the requisite obsequious questioning, including his expectations of me. After a laundry list of virtues, my congressman told me of a special task that he wanted me to do for him once a month and without telling anyone else. I immediately unbuckled my belt. Just kidding. [No seriously, I am kidding.] He wanted me to smuggle out the office copy of Hustler so he could peruse its tawdry pages.

I did what I was told when the special day arrived, making sure to conceal my precious cargo. The congressman usually left before we did, so as he said goodbye, I asked the congressman if I could walk him to the elevator to discuss a “special PR initiative.”

We left the office and passed, among others in the corridor, Jim Moran of Virginia and Tom DeLay of Texas. The congressman stopped to talk to them and introduced me around. I quickly had to switch the envelope that I had been carrying in my now-sweaty right hand in order to shake their hands. Beside the elevator, the congressman opened his briefcase. I forwarded his “reading material” and he quickly stashed it beneath a legislative folder regarding the upcoming renewal of the Patriot Act.

He put his hand on my shoulder and said, Have a good weekend, son. I know I will. He stepped into the members-only elevator and offered a warm hello to Nancy Pelosi. -Submitted by Ryan, Washington, DC

grubbing for a smoke

I was working for a big-deal PR firm a couple years ago when the owner of said PR firm got into a little, uh, trouble. Let’s just say it involved her driving abilities. It was in the news. You can figure it out.

Anyway, even though a huge aspect of PR is keeping up with magazines, newspapers and web sites so that you can keep track of when your clients get mentioned, my boss had forbidden us from doing any of that. She said that one of her “clients” had been getting a lot of negative press lately, but of course we all knew she was the one getting shredded all over the place. Since media in all forms was banned, the only thing we could do all day was check our internal email and spend most of our days chain-smoking at our desks. It was so boring – I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. - Submitted by Janelle, New York City

other side of the aisle: regular hours are for losers

I used to work for a media agency that had fairly strict rules about when we should be at work. I, of course, did not share their enthusiasm for these strict rules and would wander in a few minutes (or 15 minutes… or, like, 30 minutes) late fairly regularly. This eventually resulted in such passive-aggressive tactics as the office manager walking by my desk every morning to make sure I was there, or checking the intranet chat board to see when I logged on. Actually, the CEO would check that daily to see when everybody logged on. My own boss would even ask me to log her in if she was running late so she wouldn’t get in trouble. And she was a VP.

Thankfully not everyone shares my old employers’ strict sense of timeliness. In a rather progressive and totally awesome move, Best Buy has begun allowing their corporate employees to come and go as they want. Are you done with your work at 3pm? Go to a movie! Had a rough night at the pub? Sleep it off! (But maybe keep that to yourself.) Read below to find out more. Oh, and try to curb your jealousy. – Ashley

Smashing the Clock

“The goal at Best Buy is to judge performance on output instead of hours.”

my boss had a problem with her va-jay-jay

Armed with a master’s degree from a leading university I was shocked to learn on my first day at work that I would be retrieving coffee for my boss, and I had no idea the worst was yet to come. The most embarrassing scenario I ever found myself in happened when my boss was bemoaning her sexual issues and diagnosing herself with a urinary tract infection or yeast infection. I trekked the block to Duane Reade, bought “every bottle of cranberry juice” and one tube of Vagistat, just as I was instructed. If the embarrassment of checking these items out wasn’t bad enough, the bag ripping on Madison Avenue was worse. There I was, in my Manolo Blahniks, picking up all the bottles before they rolled away — I had to, my boss was depending on me. Booker T. Washington once said “Success is measured not so much by the position one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.” I doubt Booker ever had to buy out a drug store’s cranberry juice selection, but I’m sure he could relate. -Submitted by Roxie, New York City