Tag Archives: Funny

fiction

Are Bosses Struggling with Their Remote Employees?

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Remote work has caused a dramatic shift in how companies operate and their ability to manage their remote workers. We conducted an interview with a boss whose hands-on approach to management isn’t as effective as it once was.

How has working from home changed your team’s environment?

“How has it changed? (sigh) How has it not changed? In the office, I was able to run a tight ship. I would circle the block of cubicles like a shark, letting everyone know that eyes were on them. The ‘big man’, me, was watching what they were doing. Not a single person was on their phone. No one was talking. Just pure work. Without my presence over their shoulder, what’s to stop them from slacking off?”

Without your… let’s say ‘intimidation’ to keep them in line, how has your team’s performance been impacted?

“Well, you can’t really get a good read on performance through numbers and metrics and all that. Sometimes performance can look good just by pure luck.”

And your team’s performance has been having some good luck?

“Well, yeah. But that’s probably due to the leftover discipline from me running a tight ship in the office. What happens when that wears off? Huh? You know how hard it is to be intimidating through a tiny computer screen. I can’t tower over them from 30 miles down the road, sitting at my kitchen table.”

You think the dropoff in your team’s performance is inevitable if they continue to work from home?

“Without a doubt. I would stake my name on it. It’s not just about me cracking the whip either. I also can’t be as motivational through a screen.”

How did you motivate your employees before?

“Just in little ways to show they’re doing a good job. The men of course didn’t need much motivation, they always did a good job. But the women, you’d be surprised how far a little attention can go. You know what I mean? A casual wink or a firm pat on the bottom can brighten their whole day, even more so if I can find something about their appearance to compliment.”

Has that kind of, uh, ‘motivation’ ever resulted in any complaints?

“There have been a few ungrateful people who tried to complain, yeah. But that’s okay, I know how to run my team.”

You say “tried” to complain. You mean they weren’t successful?

“Hah, how can they be? I’m not doing anything wrong. Besides, the “anonymous” complaint email address just goes to my inbox anyway. People think they’re telling on me, but really I just find out who the snitches are.”

I see… As we wrap up here, I have one final question: Is there anything you think your company can do to make workers want to come back to the office?

“Funny you mention it, I just proposed last week that we cut salaries by 25% for people that work from home. That way you have to show up to get your full paycheck. It’s only fair. And that ought to motivate ‘em, huh?”

End of Interview.

Editor’s note: The comments, behavior, and actions of the interviewed boss do not represent this publication’s views or opinions. 

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Update: The boss in question has been fired since the publication of this interview. We have reached out for further comment and he responded with a lengthy rant against certain demographics. The rant will not be featured in our publication as we feel it does not belong in print.

fiction

Good News, Bad News

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“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” the doctor asked in a playful tone.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for games. Please just tell me if I’m going to live or not.” said Daniel, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well you know what I’m not in the mood for?” The doctor caught himself before continuing with that train of thought. “Uh, nevermind. Sorry. Look, I prefer to end on a high note, so here’s the bad news: My best guess is that you’ll be dead in a week.”

“Wow… that’s—I. I’m at a loss.” After a few seconds Daniel added, “What do people normally say at a time like this?” He spoke timidly and began to perspire. 

“Nothing terribly interesting or original, I’m afraid.” said the doctor with a little too much candor. “Uh, well, they normally want to make a phone call. Is there… anyone you’d like to call?”

“No. No, I think I’ll just head home. Thanks for everything… I guess.” On the way out, Daniel paused by the door. He had almost forgotten. “Hey, I might as well ask— what was the good news?”

“Oh, that? The good news is that I’ve been wrong about seventy-percent of the time with terminal diagnoses… So odds are you’ll be fine,” the doctor said with a little laugh.

Neither man said much after the doctor was punched unconscious.

fiction

My Wife, The Bartender

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Our little girl is 6 months old now, so it’s time for my wife to go back to work. To make sure one of us is always home, I work days and she has decided to go back to working nights as a bartender. Part time starting off, until she gets back into the groove.

Like most people, she was nervous going back to work after such a long break. She wasn’t sure if she would still be able to remember all the complicated drink mixtures or deal with all the tipsy weirdos touching her rear end every night (myself excluded). 

To help ingratiate herself to the friends on the staff, she decided to come up with a hit new drink that would knock everyone’s socks off. She obsessed over it. During the past week she has had me taste a number of concoctions. Some of them were okay, a lot of them weren’t—but the worst was yet to come. 

Earlier this afternoon she had been working on her masterpiece. “Come in here!” she yelled from across the house.

I came in there, hoping I wasn’t in trouble for something I had long forgotten. “Try this,” she said, passing me a suspicious looking mixture.

“What’s in it?” I ask, giving the red solo cup a little swirl.

“My own special blend. I decided to create a drink that no one else can! I call it” (pause for effect) “the ‘Naughty Mommy.’”

Huh, ‘The Naughty Mommy’ I thought to myself as I brought the cup to my lips. A familiar smell that I couldn’t quite place found its way into my nostrils as I took a big gulp. I swallowed quickly, then immediately regretted it. “What the—” I couldn’t finish my sentence through all the gagging.

“No good?” she said, wincing a little apologetically.

“No! What was in it?” I said, pouring the rest of it down the sink, and then rinsing out every last drop.

“Vodka and breast milk… Get it? The ‘Naughty Mommy?’” She said it with a cute smile that almost made me forgive her.

Yeah… clever.

fiction

Unseen Revenge

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They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. To me, the temperature of the dish matters not, for the ingredients themselves are far more important. The main ingredients in my delicious revenge are undetectability and pettiness. Revenge should be a dish served masquerading as forgiveness and maturity, but filled with malice that can’t be tasted.

To be clear, I am not speaking of vengeance for terrible wrongs that have been endured or suffered through. That is a dark topic I dare not broach. I am talking purely of petty revenge in the wake of a slight offense, which is usually more comical than tragic.

This is a tale of such pettiness:

Growing up with a much older brother who outmatched me in both wit and strength, I could not wage wars of a physical or direct nature. My offenses had to be subtle, indirect… deniable.

After one particularly heated exchange during my eighth year where my brother had spit in my face, I bottled my fury and waited. I waited for inspiration. I waited for an idea that would dissipate my anger without provoking his in return.

The idea came.

After a bit of fuming, it came time for me to wash up for dinner. There by the sink sat a blue and white toothbrush. His toothbrush. Without thinking I quickly grabbed it and scrubbed the inside of the toilet bowl with great vigor—so quickly did it occur that I scarcely knew what I was doing. I then replaced the toothbrush in the holder. My heart thumped, blood pounded rhythmically inside my skull so hard that I became light-headed. Despite the closed door, I had an irrational fear that I’d been seen. 

Several minutes passed before I was breathing normally and was once again calm. And then I smiled. I felt relieved. Not just relieved of my fear because I wasn’t caught, but I was also relieved of my anger because I got back at my brother for spitting in my face. He never knew it had even happened (and still doesn’t to this day), but I knew.

This was a revelation to me: that revenge isn’t about hurting the other person, it’s about feeling better after they have hurt you. I knew I had gotten him back, and that’s all that mattered.

Perhaps, dear reader, if you are a better person than I, then maybe you have found a way to feel better after being wronged that doesn’t involve revenge. As for me and my house, quiet revenge has worked thus far.

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An Analysis of Green Eggs and Ham

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On the surface, Green Eggs and Ham is supposedly about a picky eater who refuses to eat a dish that he would end up enjoying simply because he thought it didn’t sound appetizing. Parents hold it up to their children as an example to try new things and keep an open mind about them.

That’s not what this analysis is about, however. It is about deeper-routed, and possibly sadder truths spoken by the book. The unnamed main character announces (prior to being offered anything) his dislike of Sam I Am. This seems reasonable to us as Sam I Am is shown to be riding past our unknown protagonist multiple times holding a sign that states his own name in giant letters—an objectively obnoxious thing to do.

Don’t believe me? Do this to literally anyone in your life. Right now… I’ll wait.

How did it go? Poorly, I bet.

Anyway, we have established a relationship between the two characters in the book where one dislikes and is reasonably annoyed by the second, named (or at least calls himself) Sam I Am. So, it would be fair to assume that the main character does not refuse the food solely based on being a picky eater, but rather that they are trying to avoid engaging with a person they don’t like and hoping for them to leave quickly (Spoiler: they don’t).

Another extrapolation that one could come to, and this is a sadder truth I referred to in the second paragraph, is that we as people often miss out on things we would enjoy simply because they were recommended to us by people we find in sufferable and whose opinion we distrust—usually for good reason (i.e. the person is annoying, intrusive, dumb, unbearable, or all of the above).

Here’s an example of what I mean: Imagine the guy in your office who constantly corners you to talk about his favorite Anime and seems pretty obsessed with Asian women for someone who’s not Asian and has never left the U.S., recommends that you watch Abbott Elementary. Having never heard of it, you would assume the show is awful because you are put-off by this guy who makes you uncomfortable. In reality though, you would probably love the show, and now won’t give it a shot because how good could a show recommended by that guy be?

I’m not saying we should be more open to suggestions from people we dislike—far from it. I’m saying irritating people should not be allowed to recommend good things. It throws off our judgment.

Long story short—the unnamed protagonist in Green Eggs and Ham is completely right to avoid the odd-looking dish presented by the loathsome Sam I Am. The odds of it turning out to be enjoyable were miniscule at best, and eating the meal would only prolong their interaction, which we have established, no one would want.

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Malaphors

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I have found out there is a word for when someone mixes up metaphors; the mixed-up phrase is called a malaphor. In celebration of this discovery, I thought I would offer up two of my favorite ones, both uttered in all sincerity by an old coworker:

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” (“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” and “Don’t burn too many bridges.”)

“This is the cross I’ll die on.” (“This is my cross to bear” and “This is the hill I die on.”)

If you have any malaphors that you are particularly fond of, please feel free to add them in the comments.

fiction

Missed Connection

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Dear Woman with Braids at the Brighton Chili’s,

I apologize if I made you uncomfortable by sending you a drink. I meant it merely as an icebreaker, although your demeanor appeared more rigidly icy than before. Admittedly, I see how you were shocked to receive an Apple Martini at 1 in the afternoon. In retrospect, such an act may be strange, but there is no reason to be on guard.

Or perhaps your reticence was due to my uniform. It can certainly be odd to see an American soldier in combat fatigues in the middle of the day (in a Chili’s no less). But believe me, I had a very good reason—I’m not allowed to take it off from the hours of 9-5, recruiters aren’t allowed to. And what am I supposed to do, Not go to Chili’s! So, I promise I wasn’t wearing it to get attention or for free appetizers (although I’m fine if I receive them, I would never pass up mozzarella sticks).

Or are you against the military’s current efforts in foreign countries? We’re on the same side then, honestly. You’ll never find someone more opposed to sending soldiers to do anything than me. I like it here in the States. I get thanked for just walking around and smiling at strangers.

Anyway, my dependents get free healthcare—just something to think about. 

Well, I’ve probably said enough. If you read this and want to get in touch, just pick up one of my business cards. You can find one in any small business in the city (never know who might want to join! Not me again though. I’m good.)

Sincerely,

SGT Alan Beck, United States Army Recruiting Command

fiction

On Call

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“What do you mean you have to go to work? I just made popcorn.”

“Simon, I’m really sorry, but this is important. I can’t just blow it off.”

“Oh, fine. And I’m not important? I’ve been looking forward to movie night all week. Huh… apparently I was the only one.”

“I—I can’t do this now. They’re prepping the kid for surgery as we speak and I’m the only surgeon on call. We’ll talk later, okay? Wish me luck!”

“Yeah… good luck. I just hope one of these days I’ll be more important than a kidney transplant on some child you don’t even know.”

* * *

“Hey! I’m here, I’m here!”

“What took you so long? They’re already wheeling Ian into the O.R.”

“I knowww, I’m sorry. It’s Simon, he can be so needy sometimes.”

“I thought you were leaving him?”

“I’m trying. We agreed that this is his last second chance.”

* * *

“Well, Ian, how do you feel?”

“Better now, miss doctor. Thank you for saving my life.”

“Aww! You’re welcome, sweetie. And thank you for getting me out of movie night with Simon.”

“I thought you were dumping that creep!”

“I’m working on it, buddy. Don’t worry about that though, just focus on getting used to that new kidney.”