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Thursday, June 27, 2013

Bummed or: Profit Makes Perfect?

They canned my boss earlier today.

They, being the mid-level corporate types who are most likely equally caught between a rock and a hard corporate profits place. They said his position was being "eliminated."

Whatever.

Thanks to the inept, er, the incompetent “stewardship” of the U.S. economy for almost five long years now, this is Amerika: doing more with less. And then still less and less and less.

The thing that has me bummed is that this now former boss of mine hired me fresh out of Percy A. Brown & Co.: Foods of Distinction, when I was a sullen and mean-spirited teenager who could cook like none others his age, but who needed to be shaped and molded and reminded and twisted so as to not end up on skid row or even worse.

Basically, he took a cocky, foul-mouthed, overly aggressive, long-haired borderline thug who could cook as if nitro-boosted and taught him not only how to make nice with other human beings, but how to impersonate one and better yet…how to get away with it.

Spanning more than three decades and two successful careers, I have spent more time with him than I spent with either of my grandparents, my mother, and, obviously, than with my father. And just few years shy of the time I had with my little brother.

He taught me that people could and still do communicate without F-bombs comprising the great majority of a single sentence. He taught me that fists were not really the ultimate solution to every vexing problem. And he, along with his then management protégé, taught me over some time that being somewhat “polished” was not unmanly.

So, in lieu of some adult-like parlance, the following goes out to him…

Piss…Sh*t…Corruption…Snot…Fourteen assh*les tied in a knot!

BANG!!!

And, no, once again, I could not have handled it differently. The cops scraped him up off of the tarmac, stuck him in an ambulance and followed him to the emergency room.

 Who knew what the Sunday Independent would have to say about it?

Me? I lost another dress shirt, a jigger of blood and a K-Mart tie.

Long may you run, dude.

Later  

3 comments:

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zorcong said...
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