Monday, November 21, 2005

Yanksgiving Special: Turkey

I can't decide if the guy I saw tonight was someone I would want as my boss, or not. He was pretty "full on".

Sitting in the M Bar of the Sandman Downtown, I was treated to the worst spectacle of employee dismissal I have ever seen. Not having seen many of them (speaking from the perspective of a model employee) I can't say my statement holds a lot of water; I will, however, allow the public to decide whether or not I witnessed a holocaust of employer decorum.

He was drunk when I took my usual seat for dinner.
"He" being a boss in his late 50's who sat beside a young lady who seemed to be making painful attempts at polite conversation.
I learned, by eavesdropping, that she had just been canned; her hands were folded over a manila envelope containing what I assume was her "golden handshake". He boss, however, was making very affectionate, very drunk, overtures to her. Touching her. Consoling her. Telling her how lovely she was, and how he always thought, even for an employee, that she was special and lovely.
He was even creeping me out, and I didn't have to sit next to him and keep saying, "Well, thank you. This should be a good opportunity for me. I needed a change."

What took the cake was when he asked his former employee if he could borrow her phone to call someone to pick him up: he was soused.

Holy crap.

She let him. She let him burn her fucking airtime minutes to find someone to pour him in a cab.
The surrogate had no sooner arrived, when she "what a privilege" and "I need a new adventure"'ed her way out the door. The surrogate, another female employee (or trophy wife) escorted bossman to the John. He was so bombed that there was no way he was navigating himself there on his own two feet.

I have never, EVER, seen something so painfully inappropriate in my life.
Having said that, had I been in her shoes I would have found better topics for small talk than she managed to muster, such as "So, you ever tried a Hurtz Donut? No? You want to?"


B said...


Surely you aren't asking for a Hurtz Donut?!

It's tough to punch you in the stomach and say "Hurts, don't it?" all the way from Calgary.

sure. it may be an old joke, but to be a successful joke, folks have to forget about it entirely. i want a renaissance.

Anonymous said...

No, you're right, that's right up there with inappropriate behaviour in general, never mind in a superior to ex-inferior employee setting. What an ass. A total ass. I bet if she did grow a pair and told him what he thought of her, that would have been the only thing he would remember from the night, and the second the reference calls came in, he would make good use of those memories. Especially if he considers himself a lifetime member of the "Boys Club" where they can do whatever whenever to whomever (read: women) and can get away with it with his frat boys. Fucker. I hate people like that.


B said...

If I added, ". . .the drunk bossman was a total FILF (Father I'd Like to Fuck)" would you change your mind, Lilly?
Like, Fireman Calendar kind of hunky. That kind of FILF.

Anonymous said...

Fuck no! I would be even more disgusted because he would be trying to trade in some of his looks for affection instead of relying on what the rest of us do: intelligence, humour, a bit of charm (not too much, but a touch here and there goes a long way). Pretty people think everyone goes ga-ga over them because of their looks, and the vast majority of people do, but not me. I don't fall into that superficial trap. If you don't have anything to offer in the way of brains or conversation, forget it. You won't get far with me - unless you're a total 'tard, in which case you are great fodder for my mocking machine and you will earn yourself a bit of my attention. But once I bore of you, I'm outta there!


B said...

The Bossman un-dude was about as handsome and fuckable as the heel of a shoe.

Lilly--you're right. I don't think getting the can from a pretty person would be any less painful than getting the ol' golden handshake from a mutt.