In the beginning was the Plan. And then came the Assumptions. And the Assumptions were without form. And the Plan was without substance.
And darkness was upon the face of the Workers. And they spoke among themselves, saying, ”It is a crock of shit, and it stinketh.”
And the Workers went unto their Supervisors and said, ”It is a pail of dung, and none may abide the odor thereof.”
And the Supervisors went unto their Managers, saying, ”It is a container of excrement, and it is very strong, such that none may abide it.”
And the Managers went unto their Directors, saying, ”It is a vessel of fertilizer, and none may abide its strength.”
And the Directors spoke amongst themselves, saying to one another, ”It contains that which aids plant growth, and it is very strong.”
And the Directors went unto the Vice Presidents, saying unto them, ”It promotes growth, and it is very powerful.”
And the Vice Presidents went unto the President, saying unto him, ”This new plan will actively promote the growth and vigor of the company, with powerful effects.”
And the President looked upon the Plan, and saw that it was good.
And the Plan became Policy.
This is how Shit Happens.
Internal Office Training Courses
When you’re on a workplace training course, think of it like this:
When you start the course, you are on-course.
When you’re in the middle of the course, that’s group intercourse.
When you’ve finished the course, that’s when you’re off course, of course.
A man walked into a Doctor’s office. “What do you have?” the receptionist asked.
She told him to sit down. Soon a nurse called him and asked, “What do you have?”
“Shingles,” he replied.
She took his blood pressure, weight, and complete medical history. Then she took him to a room and told him to remove all of his clothes. After a few minutes the Doctor came in and asked,”What do you have?”
“Shingles,” the man told him.
The Doctor looked him up and down and said,”Where?”
“Out on the truck. Where do you want me to unload them?
One Day While Scaffolding
Steve, Bob, and Jeff were working on a very high scaffolding one day when suddenly, Steve falls off and is killed instantly. After the ambulance leaves with Steve’s body, Bob and Jeff realize that one of them is going to have to tell Steve’s wife.
Bob says he’s good at this sort of sensitive stuff, so he volunteers to do the job. After two hours he returns, carrying a six-pack of beer.
“So did you tell her?” asks Jeff.
“Yep”, replied Bob.
“Say, where did you get the six-pack?”
Bob informs Jeff. “She gave it to me!”
“What??” exclaims Jeff, “you just told her her husband died and she gave you a six-pack??”
“Sure,” Bob says.
“Why?” asks Jeff.
“Well,” Bob continues, “when she answered the door, I asked her, ‘are you Steve’s widow?’ ‘Widow?’, she said, ‘no, no, you’re mistaken, I’m not a widow!’ So I said: “I’ll bet you a six-pack you ARE!’”
Rules For Work +
1. Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 4:00 and then bring it to me. The challenge of a deadline is refreshing.
2. If it’s really a rush job, run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it’s going. That helps. Or even better, hover behind me, advising me at every keystroke.
3. Always leave without telling anyone where you’re going. It gives me a chance to be creative when someone asks where you are.
4. If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books, or supplies, don’t open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic and opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever be injured and lose all use of my limbs.
5. If you give me more than one job to do, don’t tell me which is priority. I am psychic.
6. Do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. I have no life beyond work.
7. If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. If that gets out, it could mean a promotion.
8. If you don’t like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations. I was born to be whipped.
9. If you have special instructions for a job, don’t write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.
10. Never introduce me to the people you’re with. I have no right to know anything. In the corporate food chain, I am plankton. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.
11. Be nice to me only when the job I’m doing for you could really change your life and send you straight to managers’ hell.
12. Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any and it’s nice to know someone is less fortunate. I especially like the story about having to pay so much taxes on the bonus check you received for being such a good manager.
13. Wait until my yearly review and THEN tell me what my goals SHOULD have been. Give me a mediocre performance rating with a cost of living increase. I’m not here for the money anyway.