Today, I had a meeting with my boss, my boss’s boss, and my boss’s boss’s boss to discuss general virus stuff. I figured that if my boss and his boss wore ties, and I didn’t, I’d look like an idiot. If I did, and they didn’t, no one would care. So, I played the odds and put on a tie.

On the way to work, I thought, “What the fuck am I doing? I’m wearing a tie. I’m not a little bit corporate and a little bit rock and roll, anymore. This tie is quickly and voluntarily choking the rock and roll out of me. I’ve somehow gone corporate.

How the fuck did this happen?

A small angel appeared on my left shoulder said, “Don’t worry about it. Patience is a virtue. The meek shall inherit the earth. You’ve taken your first steps toward a fine German automobile, which are heavenly. By the way, you look very nice.”

In a puff, a devil appeared on my right, jumped onto my left shoulder, and kicked the angel square in the ding-ding. Then he said, “I’ll tell you how this happened, dumb ass. You worked your ass off for the same department for the last 5 years on infrastructure that is done so well that no one even notices it, anymore. On the very rare occasion when the proverbial shit hits the fan, you jump in front of it and do a spotless clean up before anyone notices the mess, leaving you nothing but covered in shit.

Because no one really knew or cared what you do, that promotion that might’ve raised you to the level of your peers was tabled for two years unsigned, while some real pieces of work whizzed up the chain past you. Yea, you remember them don’t you? Real geniuses. Thanks for fucking things up, here’s your promotion. On the other hand, your responsibilities got bigger, your raises got smaller, and your grade level completely stagnated. You know why? Because smile beats substance. A tie beats merit. And all the while you sit and hope that your work will get noticed one day. Boo hoo.

Then one day you woke up and realized that it’s not going to happen. You’re not going anywhere. Nowhere. Because the harder you work, the more work you will be given to do. The reward for working hard is more hard work. The only time you will be rewarded is if your agenda somehow aids the agenda of someone more powerful than you. And even then, you’re probably screwed. The promotions will go to the guy wearing the tie or the guy with a better golf game over the guy who works hard and tows the company line. You like to pretend that it’s not, but it’s who you know, dumb ass. Good thing you wasted all that time reading documentation instead of people, huh? Your fault. Boodily hoo.

No major calls regarding virus protection are made at your company without your consultation, and you’d think that would be enough to get you noticed without having to resort to wearing a fucking tie, right? Well, it’s not. Get over it. It’s all about fucking marketing. And even if it makes you sick, all you are at work is a fucking brand.

Jon can be the best corporate antibiotic on the market, but until you get some prime shelf space and spend some money on advertising, getting it in everyone’s face and convincing them that Jon brand worker is better than the national leading brand hands-down, Jon will sit there on the bottom shelf for eternity while less reliable brands are brought in by the truckload. And you don’t even have to be the best. Just pretend you are. And bullshit people. And wear your tie. And become the tie-wearing, Yanni listening, BMW driving, enormous empty nest buying, golf playing, fake-smiling, non-committal corporate bitch motherfucker you’ve always dreamed of being.

Play the game. Buy the car. Buy the house. Make VP. Sell out. And know that hard work is not rewarded in this world. Perceptions are. P.S. You have a big goddamned nose and your ears stick out.”

With those words ringing in my ears, I found the magic and importance of my job sort of draining away, leaving me to give some serious consideration to handing in my resignation. Just then, the tiny angel reappeared and kicked the little devil square in his ding-ding, causing him to vanish in a tiny puff just like they do on bad sit-coms.

And I sat there in my car, with my tie, feeling like an asshole.

And all day I caught good natured shit for my tie. People joked about this being one of the signs of the apocalypse or asked how my interview went. And all the while I knew it wasn’t working.

But when my band takes off, man, I mean it: I’m totally out of here.

Posted in Anger, Work