Stick it to the Man

I quit my job two weeks ago. Got fed up with passive-aggressive middle management idiots not understanding that when you hit the sum key in Microsoft Excel it creates a sum.

Numbers added – numbers subtracted, it’s a goddamn basic principle of math.

But I know I’m asking a lot, because clearly anyone with the word “manager” in their title should never learn how to make the morning coffee or remove a piece of paper from the printer just because the readout says “remove paper jam.”

And when a question, even a good one, needs answering, it takes three paper memos, 16 voicemail messages, 25 e-mail messages, a full meeting of the board of directors, an outside analyst firm and full cultural diversity training for all employees.

All to learn the person asking the question was out of line because they’re support staff.

And where the hell did the term “support staff” come from? I think it’s time we call our jobs by their true names, like: “Alienated summa cum laude college graduate forced into doing the work of a chimpanzee while supervised by the anal retentive gaze of an incompetent, freshwater manatee surfacing just long enough to make aforementioned monkey boy re-do an entire year’s worth of worthless information for no foreseeable reason.”

Or better yet: “Undersexed, overmedicated person in charge of others staring at the ledge outside the window wondering if anybody can see them looking up on their computer.”

That’s why I think we need a new office holiday. Most places celebrate Secretary’s … oops, I’m sorry, “Executive Assistant’s” Day.

Still others, that want to look good but don’t really care, celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Even though he was kind of uppity.

We need “Stick it to the Man” Day in offices all across the United States. Let us all, employees confined to the modern-day monkey cage, cast off our cubicles and forced-upon handbook dress codes. Let us march through our narrow and confining corridors, making the head of the human resources manager on a stick our glimmer of hope. Put down the Microsoft Outlook manual on how to make an appointment in a calendar for your boss, who’s incompetent. Unplug all the printers. Make 50,000 copies of your ass and put LSD in the coffee cup of the office herbalist who insists on making a pot of mint medley tea instead of coffee … every damn day.

Let us gather all the managers, the neo-managerials in search of a life they’ll never get, just waiting to pounce on the smallest human mistake, bitter, overpaid, ignorant officer wankers and stick it to them where they keep their heads – up their ass.

Then brothers and sisters of the techno-menial job force, take a day off, relax, and ask for triple overtime.


John Troyer’s subversive column appears alternate Fridays, or whenever he gets around to it. He
welcomes fan mail, hate mail and nudie pictures at [email protected] Send letters to [email protected]