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I used to work for a large, glassy-officed corporation. My department worked with other departments to produce items for use throughout the company.
At one point, a new hire was made in one of our related departments. This was an important position which worked with and had a certain amount of authority over other positions in the several departments.
They couldn't possibly have made a worse choice. You hear a lot these days about how the psychopathic personality seems to be the one most favored in the corporate environment. If that's true, here is the perfect example. This guy proved to be a classic kiss-up / kick-down backstabber, intriguer, liar, would-be bully, all the worst. And he wasn't even competent at his job, which didn't matter much to the product because he spent most of his time solidifying his base of support with relentless, compulsive brown-nosing up there on the higher management floors.
You wouldn't believe half the stories, but here's the main one. Our Boy -- married, with a kid -- fell in lust with a young woman in my department. He was in his forties, she her twenties. He began stalking her, countless drunken phone calls all evening long, threats, sleazy unwanted attentions, the whole routine. She complained to the management, who did nothing, just hoped the problem would go away and not rock their boats. At one point, Our Boy was called into his manager's office -- a closed-door, corner office, with a stand-alone, non-cubicle desk -- for a discussion of the situation. Our Boy -- this was some years ago, prior to current tobacco conditions -- extinguished his lit cigarette by grinding it out on the polished surface of his own boss's expensive hardwood desk!
I kid you not, I saw the mark. And still Our Boy retained his job, smirking and strutting and leaving a trail of cologne behind him in the halls. He must've had something on somebody important. Morale in the departments plummeted. The poor young woman at the point of it was utterly miserable. Finally, one Sunday, she visited me at my home (we lived in the same suburban town.) She had her resignation typed out in an envelope, and asked me to deliver it for her. She herself couldn't even face walking into that office ever again.
So I did. That afternoon, leaving through the main lobby, who should I see walking in but Our Boy. I'll admit it, I sneered at him. He sneered back. I had had it. It had been months of watching this perverted personality destroy what had once been a high-functioning team, filled with good morale. So as he walked past, I turned around to speak to him.
"Hey, Jim," I called. "Terrorize any small children lately?"
He turned around. "Hey pal, I think you better chill out..."
"Hey pal," I interrupted. "I think you better go fuck yourself."
The reaction was wonderful. He huffed and puffed. His eyes bulged out, and his head swole up two, three times its natural size. His face turned beet red. I didn’t actually see steam shooting out his ears, but I feel certain that would’ve come next. I turned and casually walked away, feeling good.
Well, this was a very traditional, white-bread, sack suit sort of company, couple hundred years old. One did not just lightly trip around making suggestions like that, even in calm and reasonable tones of voice. I got home, called the VP of my area, and explained the situation. The next day, I expected to be terminated. Instead, although I spent a few hours being grilled by the middle-managers who should themselves have handled the situation less destructively far earlier, it was in fact Our Boy who had been involuntarily released.
Well, life again was, not exactly good, at least improved in our little enclave for the next six months. Then, we were all swept out in one of the periodic layoff-waves that serves that kind of company as a reorganizing tool and bad-apple remover. Some time later, I looked up Our Boy on the Web. He had a site offering to serve as a letter-writer for guys who found themselves speechless when dealing directly with women of their affections.
Ok... Lotta luck with that, I guess. "And fuck you," said Tiny Tim. "Fuck you, everyone!"
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