Thursday, November 27, 2003
Thanksgiving, and the Mensa Society Rejects
Ever work for morons?
Oh, I have. Here's the tale, apropos of the Thanksgiving Holiday:
I worked at a firm some years ago, where the senior partners (there were 3) were not the brightest tools in the shed. They managed to put together a money-making firm, but that was merely proof that intelligence is not a prerequisite for profitability, as I was about to find out in painful detail.
We go to Chicago every year -- its become a family tradition. The first year I worked at the firm, I told the management brain trust the week before Thanksgiving that I was spending the holiday in Chicago. I repeated this info on the way out the door Wednesday.
"Have a safe flight!"
We had a very nice weekend in Chi-Town, eating our way across the city. Then, it was back home by late Sunday, and in to work on time on Monday. I'm not at my desk for more than 5 minutes, when one of the assistants sees me, and whispers conspiratorially: “The partners want to see you – they are very very angry.”
I go in to see them, very casual. Hey, I’m just coming off a four day weekend, and I know I didn’t doing anything wrong, so I really don't give a shit if they had too much triptophan or not.
“Where WERE YOU Friday?” these future Nobel Laurelates ask me.
“Um, Chicago, like I told you.” I said. “We discussed this on Wednesday.”
“But why didn't you call to say you weren't coming in on Friday?” asked one member of team Mensa.
“What am I missing here?” I asked innocently. I could feel my blood pressure start percolating, and my natural impatience was starting to show through.
“You never told us you weren’t coming in on Friday” was the reply. I made a mental note to call the MacArthur Foundation, just to tell them their money was no good here.
My prior attempts to keep myself out of confrontation mode was getting no where. These guys are salesman, and the only thing they TRULY respect was a strong close. So I went at 'em:
“You know where Chicago is, right? It’s over 1000 miles away -- What did you expect, I was going to fly to Chi-town, wuff down some turkey, and turnaround and come back home THAT NIGHT – just to come in for a half a day, one of the slowest days of the year?
Nobody answered, they just had that blank stare you see on people who have taken one-too-many-acid trips. So I pressed my point home:
NOBODY REALLY EXPECTED ME TO FLY BACK HERE FOR A HALF DAY, RIGHT? RIGHT?”
“Um, no of course not. But you need to tell us when you are taking a day off.”
“I did that. I said I was going to Chicago for the weekend. Is there anything else?"
“O.K. I got work to do. I’ll see ya later.”
No one else said a word.
And that’s how I learned I worked for the dumbest motherfuckers on the planet.
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