With a few hours less than 2 months to go in my exit strategy from the job, now seems like a good time to kick off the countdown and do a quick review of my five years in corporate America. And what better way than a subjective reductive dualistic breakdown. And who better to narrate than our old pal Business Casual Stag Devil Death Boy.
Will miss my blackberry.
Will not miss the morning commute on the subway. The silent masses trudging into work.
Will miss the money.
Will not miss the people who think they can make controversial political remarks flippantly (“drop the bomb”, “when did religion in the courtroom become a bad thing”, “he got convicted, so fry him”, etc.).
Will miss the health insurance.
Will not miss the Senior Vice Presidents, who, in addition to their absurd salaries and perks, have the power to ruin anyone else’s day on a whim. It’s surreal power for supremely average people to have.
Will miss the short woman who let’s slip a sly, mischievous, little giggle every time she says hi. Every time. Like we’re in on a secret that the rest of the office would never understand. Absolutely precious.
Will not miss the programmers and developers, who know just enough to fuck up their PCs and make you feel stupid when you try to fix them. Fix it yourself then, douchebag. I have other things to do.
Will miss the 0.75% of the workforce that has a genuine sense of humor. Hang in there, kids.
Will not miss the guy who says “Meeeester Dan!” everytime I walk by him. Good enough guy, but the Meeeester Dan treatment kills me.
Will not miss the “Shark Hunter!” guy.* Good enough guy but enough with the Shark Hunter joke!!
Will not miss metrics.
Will not miss reorgs.
Will not miss process charts.
Will not miss all-hands meetings.
Will not miss meetings.
* In a “Vertical Slice” (10 random people from several levels of the group) meet-and-greet with the new boss’s boss, he asked me what my ideal job would be and I told him “… shark hunter. Biggest predator in the Sea. It would be pretty cool to hunt sharks.” Quiet … boss laughs … other people laugh. One guy in the room particularly liked the comment. “There’s the Shark Hunter!”, he began saying everytime he saw me. Then “Hey Shark Hunter, get any sharks today?”. Then “Harpoon any big ones, Shark Hunter?” “What’s your strategy out there, Shark Hunter? Drop down some chum?” “What’s for lunch, today, Shark Hunter? Chum?” We had no history of interaction or knowledge of eachother other than that meeting where I dropped the SH joke, so this is all there was. When he was out of earshot or if there was a VP around, he’d put the hand dorsal fin on his head while he walked by and smiled. Then, when standing with co-workers in the kitchen, “You know this guy? That’s the Shark Hunter” with no further explanation, so that the person would look to me for explanation. Needless to say, it got very very old, and there was no way to stop it without telling him to shut up. After about a year of daily monotonous Shark Hunter references, I happened to pull up to the urinal next to him in the bathroom. There were three other guys in the bathroom (who, like everyone else in the world other than this guy and me, had no clue about the Shark Hunter thing). Then this: “Hey … I’m surprised to see a man of your stature … in here … Sharks might come up through the piping and grab ya!” Silence. What do you say to that. And there’s no end in sight to the Shark Hunter comments. Today, he just said, “shark!”
Long time fans of this blog and my "work" in general, will be aware of the fact that my name is Daniel Nolan, I am from Chicago originally, and I am a portrait painter. Surely the only member of that particular subset of existence, no?
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