You know the ones. They all wear ties like they think they’re lawyers or something. They are the company go-to guys who come visit from headquarters to make sure you’re lining up the products correctly. They speak in clipped phrases and have this denigrating demeanor about them that somehow lets you know they are WAY better than you. You will never, never — in this life or the next — rise to their height on the ladder. You’re at the bottom, and you are a piece of shit on which to be stepped. Oh, and while you’re down there, please buff the floors.
I hate Corporate Peons.
I mean, duh. That goes without saying. What I want to get across is how very much I loathe their snobby attitude. Their college education pisses me off. Their watches piss me off even worse, because why would anyone wear one these days except to display how monied and leisurely is their lifestyle. They were raised in all-white neighborhoods, had a car given to them on their sixteenth birthday, and never thought their lives would end up any differently than where they are now: At the top.
They know Steven Covey’s 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by heart, they have found their stupid Cheese, and the Color of their Parachute is some kind of expensive designer Crayola shade you will never attain. They might take you out to lunch the first time you meet, pretend you’re buddies, and suddenly get serious as they collect the receipt for which they fully expect to be reimbursed by Headquarters, which is located in another state altogether and which you will never lay eyes upon. They flew here first class and don’t understand why anyone would ever settle for economy. Their shoes are uber-shiny.
Corporate Peons are UGLY on the inside.
All this shit wouldn’t be quite so bothersome if it weren’t for the fucked up attitude that comes with it. These people, these uppity-corporate-schmucks, are downright mean. They belittle you, and act like you’re stupid. Their facial expressions display just exactly how much contempt they hold for a dumb-dumb like you. Ask for a paid day off — one of those nifty items which you have EARNED and which BELONG TO YOU and which are BENEFITS YOU NEGOTIATED AS PART OF YOUR PAY IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SERVICES YOU WILL PROVIDE — and you will find out quickly how deranged you are for requesting such an enormous favor. Call in sick? Better to be dead. They won’t ask if you’re feeling better when you return to work, but will instead ask why you didn’t accomplish XYZ task from last week… you know, the time you spent at home hawking up a lung.
In discussing Corporate Peons, I know I sound really bitter and hateful.
It’s just this issue I have with authority. I don’t like anyone acting like I’m just some dumb kid from the corner of Mars. I’ve lived on more than one continent and mingled with other cultures. I put myself through college, and I served my country. I took custody of an abused teenager when no one else would step up and do it. Overall, I’d say I’m a fairly decent and competent person. No one talks down to me and gets away with it. Not the the president of some company, not the president of the U.S., not the president of the universe, were there such a thing. I don’t take flack from my mama or my husband; I sure as hell ain’t gonna take it from some little shit about whom I don’t otherwise give two poots.
I’ve done plenty of crappy things in my life, but they have no bearing on whether or not I’m able to GET THE JOB DONE. You don’t have to like my attitude. But you sure as hell have to treat me like we’ve both experienced a shart in our life time. I have a difficult time taking seriously any “boss” whom I can imagine naked. The body nude is not a pretty thing; it’s ridiculous. Consider all those dangling parts, all that hair, all those openings. Think about poop. You poop. You don’t get to sneer at me for not coming from your world. Not when I know for a fact you sit on a toilet and hope the big ones go down without blocking up the pipes.
Basically what I’m saying is, I can’t bow and be subservient to another human. And since we’re all shitting humans, we’re all equal, so I shouldn’t have to anyway. Shame on you for asking — nay, EXPECTING — me to be a less person than you, the Corporate Peon. My disgust for you is only matched by those who are racist, anti-gay, or otherwise despicable in nature.
I hear it’s lonely at the top. Maybe you should stop wiping your butt with those lower down the ladder.