Posts Tagged ‘douchebag’

It was a boss who thought employees should dress this way. Source: Wikipedia, Ticker Tape.

It was a boss who made employees dress this way. Source: Wikipedia, Ticker Tape.

Being a bad boss isn’t easy. It takes effort and skill. At first blush it may seem that being a bad boss is the easy way out and the path of least resistance. But, like most things in life, being a truly extraordinary bad boss takes a lot of commitment and hard work. There’s no such thing as a free lunch!

Sure, a lot of countries still allow employers to legally kill their employees, and you can certainly take that route, if you wish. But be honest. There isn’t much sport in giving an employee a love tap with a Luger to the skull. Real destruction takes a little more finesse and effort. Most employees have the potential to be worthy prey. Why waste that potential on a mere head shot?

–Excerpt, How To Destroy Your Employees, by Tom B. Taker, 2010

Today we examine a textbook example of bad bossiness. There’s a lot of bad bosses still on the fence. With any luck, by the time we’re done, they’ll have the tools to be the worst that they can be!
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I'm the smallest slice. Orange you impressed?

I’m the cutest slice. Orange you impressed?

I’m formulating a new hypothesis to fit observable phenomena pertaining to the human act of communication. If you can call one-way verbal vomit “communication,” that is. We may have to take a few liberties with our assumptions.

The lab is a controlled environment: A square room with dimensions of 20′ x 20′ and four test subjects locked inside.

It’s a beautiful human-based ballet and we get to watch it play out. Isn’t science a gas?
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My wife told me to be short when writing. I told her my height doesn’t change.

When I walk in a restaurant, I don’t expect much. But I do like to be greeted. A little eye contact. The word, “Hello.” This should be from the first person who sees me. If even a single employee walks by and gives me the “I pretend not to see you because greeting customers is not my department” then I become irritated.

I understand that employees in a restaurant may be busy. Hell, they may even not be poised at the ready saying, “Tom should be here any minute. Look alive, people!” All it takes is a second to say, “I’ll be right with you.”

Above all else I’m a reasonable guy.

Without eye contact, a greeting and a friendly “I’ll be right with you” I can wait about two minutes before saying (to myself), “Fuck this place!” For every employee who gives me the “not my department” routine you can take a minute from that time.

If greeted, though, I’ll happily wait five minutes or more.

Then there’s this other guy…

My wife and I were in the restaurant, already at a table, enjoying our lunch. A guy walked in. I’m not sure why but he caught my eye. It might have been the way he bellowed.

He strode in, stopped a few feet inside the door, which had just closed behind him. He then waited 1.5 seconds without being helped. No wait staff was in sight. Then he bellowed, “Hello???”

Every head in the restaurant turned. Forks dropped to plates. Everyone was stunned. What the fuck was going on here? It’s rather unusual to yell like that. Something must be up.

A waitress ran from the back. I watched the whole thing go down. I was zoomed in. I had the tunnel vision.

“What are the hours of the haircut place three doors down?” the man demanded. “Their door is locked.”

Ah. I see. You obviously saw our sign that reads, “We help customers from all businesses that are not are own.” Yeah, why don’t you go fuck yourself?

The waitress, who is naturally a nice person, tried to help. “You see, we don’t know about that. That’s like a whole other business. They don’t check in with us. We have no information.”

The guy angrily strode out.

This is the planet I live on. A planet where people like that exist. Then, as we were leaving, the guy came back in for more! I gave him laser beams of death as we fled the building. What an enjoyable meal. Speaking of meal, I would very much like to feast on his soul.

Hey, look. This was less than 500 words.

Press *42 for my fist in your face.

Oops. Once upon a time someone told me I’m supposed to swallow my violent tendencies. I no longer remember who that was. Oh well, must not have been anyone important.

Oh. I see I just failed. Let’s try this again.

Hey, everybody! I’ve got a great idea on how to handle to chum-bucket assholes with phones in restaurants!

There. Is that better?
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If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.

Source: Wikipedia – Duck test

File this post under “E” for Editorial. Or Enema. I can’t remember which.

That duck quote is an oldie but a goodie, but there’s another verse that I added which unfortunately usually gets omitted. “And if you find yourself covered in duck guano you probably took duck verification a bit too far.” (Achievement: poop tag!)

There is a fable in Abyss land that goes something like this:
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Yee-haw!

Today, on the first day of a new year, I know some people celebrate by going all couch potato and shit and watching the New Year’s Day Twilight Zone marathon. (It’s only 45 hours long so do try to squeeze it in if you can.)

Me? I like to be different. I like to be special.

While researching for the biggest douchebags and/or assholes of 2011 I stumbled happenstance on a whole new art form of entertainment to meet my holiday TV marathoning needs.

But first, a few thoughts about the research. In my quest for the biggest douchebags and assholes of 2011 I had to establish some rules. For example, outright criminal behavior doesn’t count. That stuff is on a whole other level. That leaves people like scumbag Jerry Sandusky off the list.

Douchebaggery is more about bad form and poor taste. It’s about being an ass or a jerk.
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PedestrianWe’ve all heard the expression “never leave a man behind.”

This is part of the U.S. Soldier’s Creed, which actually says, in part:

“I will never leave a fallen comrade.”

Unfortunately, not all of us live by this creed. Observe…

Last night I was on my nightly commute home. My commute used to be only two miles one-way. Now it’s three miles. Which is more than enough for the assmonkeys* to turn out in spades.

I had driven a whole two blocks from work and was approaching the first traffic light of the drive. The light was green. That means it was my turn to go, and it also means that pedestrians were supposed to wait.

What I should have done

You see, I have this thing about pedestrians obeying signaling devices. It really burns me when they don’t. Especially when they take a leisurely stroll when it isn’t their turn and make cars with green lights have to wait. I fucking hate that! It burns me every single time.

I’m the kind of guy that waits for the walk signal. Always. That’s just the way I am. Even if the street is deserted as far as the eye can see. If only I had a nickel every time I stood there waiting while other pedestrians gave me a funny look, then blithely pressed on without me. Motherfuckers!

So here it was a mere two blocks into my commute and I was experiencing my first full blown incident of road rage of the evening. Shit, why did it take so long? Couldn’t the universe throw something at me a block earlier? Quit slacking, universe!

From the right came a couple of pedestrians, a man and a woman. I assumed they were a married couple. They were a little older than me and obviously together. They had a “don’t walk” signal because my light was green. The man strolled out into the street without a care in the world. He didn’t look left or right. He acted as if the universe was exclusively his.

Meanwhile, here I come, trying to catch the green light before it turns yellow. In other words, I’m accelerating.

The man strolled out about 10 feet into the intersection then finally seemed to realize where he was. “Wait a fucking moment. I think I’m in a street!” He stopped, froze in his tracks, looked in my direction, and then, quite comically, backtracked like a little scared rabbit.

Ha ha ha, motherfucker! This intersection is mine!

Meanwhile, he had left his wife behind. They were obviously not in agreement on the whole “let’s challenge a car to a duel” thing. While he strode out into the street, she stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, then went back to push the pedestrian button.

By now the man had retreated almost back to the sidewalk. He had stopped about three feet from the curb and remained standing defiantly on the asphalt. He was clearly perturbed that a car had dared to interrupt his jaywalking. It was like he was saying, “The line must be drawn here. This far, no further!”

Luckily I was going straight. If I had been turning right I would have run over his toes. Gladly, I might add.

After I passed, I checked my rear view mirror. That man had taken off again right behind me after I passed. And there was his wife, still dutifully waiting on the sidewalk.

The motherfucker was leaving her behind!

He reached the other side of the street and continued on down the sidewalk. He wasn’t going to wait for nobody, not even his wife.

Finally the light changed and the signal said “walk” and the woman could cross the street. She jogged all the way to catch up with her mate, then they finally continued on their way together.

You have my condolences, lady. Not only is your husband a criminal jaywalker, you’re married to a douchebag assmonkey, too.

* Thanks for the term, Write Snark! :)