I Hate My Boss and Here's Why...

I've worked for "Jerry" for nearly a year now, and it's always been a strained relationship. He's a Northwestern/Kellogg grad, and he reaks of that pseudo-entitlement that permeates that organization and seems to infect everyone who attends it. In his soul he knows he's superior to nearly everyone he meets. Truth to tell, he's very smart, and probably very good at his job. Still, the fact that I sit four feet in front of him without even so much as a cloth partition between us is clearly galling to him.

Every now and then "Jerry" will decide that he needs to make an effort to be sociable with me. It's painful for both of us. Still, he's my boss and I guess I appreciate the effort. The other day, however, he told me a story that I think completely typifies who he is.

Several weeks ago, we had a death within the company. Our company is made up of primarily people who've known or worked together in previous companies. The death of this person, while not unexpected, was still a shock. He was very well respected and had many friends and business contacts. "Jerry" mentioned that "Linus" knew that our employee had died, and had not said anything to "Jerry."

"Jerry" wanted to touch base with "Linus," who explained had never really gotten along with "Jerry." "Linus" wasn't one to send gushing e-mail messages, and had actively campaigned against "Jerry" being hired by our company. Naturally, "Jerry" didn't appreciate this. Still, "Linus" is a figure of influence and "Jerry" wants/has to maintain a superficially cordial relationship.

"Jerry" told me that he was particularly annoyed by people who signed their e-mail messages with "Warmest Regards." The qualifier just annoyed him and came across as insincere. He told me that when he wanted to slyly tell someone he held that person in contempt, he'd sign his e-mail messages with "Warmest Regards." As he was telling me this story, he was laughing his ass off.

As he's telling me this story, all I could think was that this was the proof from the horse's mouth that my boss is a passive-agressive asshole.

All I could do was smile.

Redux

Last night I had a nightmare. That's an event, because I never have nightmares. I never dream of monsters coming from the bed or people dying or anything like that. All of my dreams are pleasant, or at the very worst boring.

But last night I dreamed I went back and relived my sophomore year in college. That's the year of my first real regret. But in the dream everyone knew that I was reliving that year and kept coming to me to find out what happened next, and all of the information I gave them was dull stuff. Like: "...and then we had lunch over there..." sort of crap that. All the stuff that people are barely interested in the first time around, let alone reliving.

Still, even after I woke up this morning I was still in the dream. I was plotting on how I would do things differently, what I would say at key moments. So much of what happened in the following five years, if not the rest of my life, stem from a handful of significant moments from that year. I'd recount the details here, but they're not important. They're gone if not forgotten.

It's interesting how something that happened more than twenty years ago can seem more important than anything that happened yesterday.

So, I've decided that for today I'm going to act as if I'd played those key moments differently. I'm going to rewrite history. The moments I'm talking about aren't significant to anyone but me, and the other people involved are no longer part of my life, so I'm just going to pretend they didn't happen the way they actually happened and see how my life would be different.

Israel

I have friends in Israel. They're not close, but they are people I can drop a line to, whom I see on a fairly regular basis.

And now they're within a hundred miles of a war that has the potential of becoming the catalyst for a world war.

One of my friends recently relocated his family to Israel. He's an Israeli national and his child needs some very specialized medical care. Because his parents and his in laws are there, and because the medical care is subsidized, he made the decision to move his family there this past summer. He makes frequent visits to Chicago and the last time he was here I asked if he felt safe. He told me that for the most part he felt as safe as he did in Chicago but that all Israelis have grown accustomed to the possibility of an outbreak of war at any minute.

Now that there is an actual war that appears to be escalating, it's personal in a way that war has never been before. People I know could be seriously hurt and even killed in horrific ways.

I'm ashamed. To have reached such a late stage in my life and been relatively untouched by the realities of the world is an embarrassment. The inconveniences and indignities that I've suffered in my life are nothing by comparison. My sister had a pre-marital pregnancy. My father died unexpectedly of a heart attack. I've had a couple of bouts of unemployment. I really, really wanted to be cast in the touring production of Beauty and the Beast...and didn't get the job.

And these are the MAJOR disappointments/dramas of my life. They are in no way the things that I obsess over and work myself into a frantic lather over on a daily basis, like how can I lose twenty pounds and stop my hair from going gray?

As an American, living in a major city, I am completely insulated from the realities of the world. I'm completely pampered beyond anything that anyone else in the history of the world has ever been and not only do I take my privilege for granted, I'm almost willfully unaware of things that happened in more than a five-mile radius from my home.

Shameful.

I'm angry. I'm angry at people who have to resort to violence. I'm angry at people who are willing to use other people's lives to achieve...anything. I'm angry that there seems to be so little gratitude for the life of ease that even the poorest American has compared to those families who are having their homes destroyed by bombs delivered from miles away. I'm angry because I don't what I can do about it.

Rick Warren and Flying Shoes

I don't care what anyone says, George Bush deserves to have shoes thrown at him. I don't want him hit. I don't want him injured, but public humiliation in the eyes of the world is the absolute least he should suffer.

I've been surprised by the outrage of some of my liberal friends. "He's the President of the United States! The office deserves more respect!" "As an American, I take that assault personally!"

I agree that the office of the President of the United States deserves respect, and the first person to display that respect should be the person holding that office. To say that every day, in every way, George W. Bush fails demonstrate that he's fit to even be in the same room with the President of United States, let alone BE the President of the United States is obvious. And his presidential portrait just proves the point again.

It's the wrapper of the packaging of George W. Bush as "one of the people." It gives no hint of the troubled times over which he "presided," nor does it do anything other than capture his likeness. There's no metaphor, no depth, nothing but an image; not unlike the Bush II presidency.

However, what I find offensive is that Mr. Bush couldn't bother to be painted wearing a suit. This is not a class portrait. This is an historical document. I can almost guarantee you that Barak Obama will be painted wearing a suit, and probably every other president in this century. And in the great hall of presidential portraits, there will be W., looking every bit as inappropriate for the office that he's defaced for the past eight years.

Sometimes I just don't understand liberal outrage. Take Rick Warren and the inaugural invocation. Yes, Rick Warren is a political opportunist pandering to the basest fears of his dim followers. And clearly this is a political move for Barak Obama, an unequivocal demonstration of his promise to reach across differences and include everyone in his administration. After the past eight years of the most exclusive of the old boys' network pillaging the planet in every way imaginable, Barak Obama's selection is startling.

But I think what liberals are missing is that in five years, when Obama signs the amendment to the Constitution guaranteeing equal rights to ALL Americans -- a redundant amendment, but one that is sadly necessary -- he will be able to say to the nostril-flaring Bible beaters, "What's your damage? My presidency was blessed by one of you. What more do you want?"

Of course, if and when that day happens, it's quite likely that Obama will be dodging more than a few wayward shoes.

You've Got Mail

I love romantic comedies. In fact I love any art form that adheres to a rigid formula and still achieves success, and You've Got Mail is as successful as any other filmed romantic comedy.

In the movie Meg Ryan decides to close her charming little book shop because it's business has been crushed by Tom Hanks's corporate monster. There is a scene where Meg goes to tell her surrogate mother figure, played by Jean Stapleton that she's decided to close the shop.

"Closing the shop is the brave thing to do."

"Why?" Meg asks impishly. (Meg is perennially impish in these films.)

"Because it means you're daring to imagine life in a different way."

Or some thing to that effect.

Anyway, my point is that there are a handful of films that contain lines that when they're spoken echo inside me because of their truth. This is one of them. I have to admit that I do admire the sentiment, and much of my life has been lived in such as way as to reimagine it.

But as I grow older, there comes a point where rebuilding my life becomes almost tedious. On the one hand I look at people I know who trudge through the same job day after day and marvel at how they survive the montony. But on the other hand I also envy the stability and comfort that day-in, day-out routine has built.

I don't have that today, but I think I might like to have it for tomorrow. For me, stability would be daring.

Proposition 8

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

The Straw

Over the years I've had people tell me that I'm a little abrupt at times, that I can choose my words a little more carefully, that I can take people's feelings into consideration before speaking.

Hard to believe, I know.

Well, three weeks ago I was sat down and spoken to about my attitude at work. I told my boss that the reality is I'm attached to nothing. My contribution is to clean the kitchen, and while I know someone has to do it I don't necessarily appreciate being treated like the maid. As an experiment, I decided to not speak until spoken to. I was silent for two days. I'm not kidding.

Still, I managed to put on a little show and I've gotten a nice, shiny, gold star for my improved attitude.

And then today I was sat down again.

I've been put in charge of sending out the holiday gifts and cards to the clients and prospective clients. When I was given this assignment, I was told that they were to go out on December 1. As of this morning nothing has been done. So, in an effort to jump start this project I sent out the following e-mail to everyone in the office:

"If anyone has any extra newspapers, I need them for packing materials for the holiday gifts, so if you could bring them in I'd appreciate it.

Also, I need your holiday cards by Friday."

It's that last line that set my boss's hair on fire. How could I tell anyone that I NEEDED anything? And to include the CEO on the mailing list? We're in an office of eight. The entire company is twenty employees. I sit less than five feet away from the CEO.

Yet, my e-mail was too demanding.

I'm looking for a new job.