Or Perhaps It's The Moron

Or perhaps it’s the moron I used to work for. Or work for. Or will work for. Perhaps it’s the moron you work for. Or did. Or will. Not that I currently work for a moron. In fact, I don’t. No, just the opposite. But I’ll get to him later.

What I want to flibbertigibbet about now is a moron I used to work for. Little short guy. Little skinny short guy. Thinks he knows everything. Thinks he knows the meaning of everything. Thinks he’s better than the rest of us. A little of that really really irritating arrogance thing going on in there. In fact, a lot of that arrogance thing going on in there.

I won’t go into details. I won’t bore you with the excruciating details, but. Well. For example. He decides he’s an expert on what we can and can’t do in a certain amount of time. What amount of progress is possible given staff and equipment and so forth and so on ad infinitum. He decides on what major milestones we should be working toward, and of course he has no idea. He pretends he knows what he’s doing. Arbitrary, you know. Purely arbitrary.

Here I am. I’m the expert, see. I’ve been through the mill and around the barn. I’ve been through the wringer and back out the other side. I’ve developed an earlier prototype of the thing we’re talking about. Several earlier prototypes. With great sweat of the brow and chilling of the extremities. With many late nights and weekends. With many wakings up in the middle of the night, one’s extremities cold and clammy.

Sweat wetting one’s pillow. Panicked, you know. Purely panicked. So I’ve been through this. And now we’re doing a product. A real product version of this prototype. See. And so we’re putting this schedule together. And we take it to the moron, and he says no. No. But, I say. But.

Which part of no don’t you understand, he says. Here are the dates. Meet them. Well. Of course, he’s the boss. He’s the boss moron you see. He’s the head moron here. He’s got the gold, so he makes the rules. What he says goes type of deal.

But turns out. It actually turns out that. We are not meeting the schedule. We have no hope. There is no light at the end of the tunnel because the tunnel is long. Long. Very long. So long and curvy that there is no visible light from here. And we all know it. We all know this deeply. And we’re all going to turn into failures as a result, you see. We’re all hard-working types of people. At least for the most part. As far as I can tell. And all of us will turn into failures as these dates pop up, and we fail to meet them.

As we utterly fail to meet them. And so I get demoted and I get a new boss between me and the moron. And he says, well Bill. Well, hahahaha. What should I know being the new boss and all. What should I know that I don’t know. That I don’t currently appreciate from our conversations here. From these fun little conversations we’ve been having. And I say, well. The schedule. The schedule is what you should know. It’s absolutely moronic. It’s absolutely impossible. It was put together by an idiot, and I helped.

I helped put the stinking thing together. But it’s ridiculous. You will fail. We will all fail. And we will do so utterly and completely and thoroughly. And so my new boss takes this information to the moron, and the moron calls a meeting, see. A senior level meeting, see. Where all of the senior type guys are all present. The highly paid guys.

And it’s clear what this is about two seconds into the meeting as I’m looking here at the moron. As I’m looking him right in the eye, which he doesn’t like. Doesn’t like at all. It’s one of those butt-kicking meetings. You know what I’m talking about. One of those pull down your trou and get your butt kicked for. Oh. I don’t know. About a half an hour. A meeting in which schedules and teamwork and possible firing are mentioned.

A meeting in which the rules of engagement are established and threats are made if the rules are broken from this point forward. A meeting in which a significant avoidance of eyes is being engaged in by the other participants, as I’m looking around at everyone. Everyone understanding that this meeting is about me and my behavior, see. Me and my petulant behavior. Me and my anti-authoritarian behavior. Me and my adolescent behavior.

All my moaning you see has leaked out everywhere, apparently. Everyone here has heard all my schedule moaning by this time, and my moron has had to take action. Has had to lay down the law so to say. And as he’s doing this. This worldly guy. This guy who is into Rolex watches and sports cars and fornicating every chance he gets and into a certain level of viciousness that is evident to all around. This sinner. This vile sinner.

Suddenly as he’s speaking here about the rules and how he expects me to behave in the future. I suddenly sense that who’s talking here isn’t so much the moron. Oh yes. He’s definitely talking. Don’t get me wrong. But who is really talking through the moron is. Well. You guessed it. God. God the Father. God the creator. I suddenly hear his authority in the irritating voice of the moron.

I suddenly hear God saying. Okay Buddy. I’ll cut you some slack this time. But I expect you to fall into line. I expect you to do what you’re told. You’re not being told to do anything immoral. You’re under this moron’s authority here for a reason. Straighten up there, Bucko. Fly right there, Fella. I’ve got my eye on you. Watch out. Watch your Ps and Qs. You’re on trial here, Buddy. It’s up to you how it turns out.