There's only one cure for passive-aggressive Space Invader bosses, and that's more passive aggression Passive aggression lurks in today's tale from the Who, Me? archives, replete with naughty words and cartoon scribblings of a corporate life satirist. The story comes from a reader Regomised as "Mike" who spent the 1990s gainfully employed at a networking company. The company did not survive Microsoft's addition of networking …
Pond... pristine blanket of snow... missing manager... obvious lettering in snow... not so obvious refrozen hole elsewhere covered with moved snow... sudden discovery in pond in Spring. One can dream.
I think I know the company. Used to work for them. Have a t-shirt announcing their $1 billion ambitions. A company so "with it" they hadn't noticed the CEO and chairman of the board had had Alzheimers for awhile.
Back in my 9-5 career, I very much enjoyed thwacking manglement over the head (individually or collectively) with large piles of wet-ink paper-trail.
Until I discovered that I could make a lot more money doing the exact same thing as a consultant ... with absolutely no danger of getting fired.
It's amazing how heavy a signed post-it can feel when wielded appropriately.
Bob may have been a mangler-dweeb. Unable to schmooze or even politely suggest actions, they have to content themselves with dark looks and sinister monotones. They are, of course, regular dweebs that made the mistake of allowing themselves to be promoted in fulfillment of the Peter Principle. I once found myself on the wrong end of a discussion with one such, who while still technically a Team Leader had clearly crossed over the Styx. What some people will pay for a corner office. It didn't even have a window.
Get too far into my personal space & I'll hit you with a taser. Be aggressive in your "Space Invader" actions & I'll apply the Shocky Stick to the side of your temple a few times. Piss me off & they'll be wondering what that burnt pork smell is from the bottom of the elevator shaft...
Fuck passive aggressive, I wanna hurt somethin'.
*Cackle*
Oh damn, that lasted longer than thirty seconds. Another entry on My Skippy's List of shit I'm not allowed to do.
When working at a financial institution in the 90's had a dick of a team leader, everyone hated him, had no management skills and wasn't a nice person.
So we done things like setting passwords for systems that run batch processing to things like <name>666 - even funnier when he had to use said password, he never said a word.
He got comeuppance though, he got a security guard fired for sleeping on the job, he was new and had a stinking cold and took a cold remedy that made him drowsy, the rest of us would've banged on the front desk and gone "WAKEY WAKEY!", not him, he went to the security lodge and reported him, tosser.
Anyway, he was now on the radar of security for "ratting on one of their own", overnight he used to vanish for periods of time, no-one could find him, especially when there was an incident, but security knew.
He was touring the dealers floors in the other building they had, turns out, he was stealing stuff he found, in one case, levered open a dealers desk to steal a psion 5, he went back the following night to get the rest of the bits and security stopped him on the way out at 3am with a "what you got there?"
During a parts audit, our inhouse engineers were found to be 30K short of spares before this happened.
Being a manager, he had been granted full access to the buildings to go anywhere.
From memory, they took him to court over the thefts.
Total dickhead he was and a thieving scrote as well.
Anon 'coz could still be identified who he is from my name.
Art in Soft snow? It has to be Artisoft.
Fantastic solution, back in the day (Win 3.11) and helped me get my design team working effectively almost 30 years ago. I've even kept a fax from their tech support department telling me how to get Doom running via IPX - good times!
Nearly a decade ago I applied for a position and got myself an interview. During the interview I stated that flexible w**king hours was very important to me and was told that hours were flexible at the mangler's discretion, and this was coming from the mangler I would be w**king for. When the contract arrived it clearly said that hours were fixed, so I queried this with the agency this was going through. They contacted the company (the same mangler I would guess from what happened later) are were assured that hours were flexible at the mangler’s discretion. So with that (verbal) assurance I took to job.
On my first day it became very clear that hours were not only fixed but that it was frowned on to leave less than 15 minutes AFTER the fixed finishing time. And the mangler ensured that on my first day by calling me into his orifice just as I was packing up, for a catch up meeting to see what my first day was like.
When I packed up and left ON TIME at the end of the second day the other peons stared at me as if they were expecting lightning bolts to come flying out of the mangler's orifice to strike me down. What they didn't know is that I'd already been at my desk w**king when said mangler arrived 15 minutes before the start of the day. Over the next 5 days the mangler came in 5 minutes earlier each day .... only to find me already there w**king away. You see the reason I wanted flexible hours was that my SO started w**k at 7, and woke me with her alarm at 6, and being an insomniac I couldn't get back to sleep. And I wanted to be able to start and finish early because of this. There wasn't enough time to do anything useful, so I'd generally head into w**k about an hour early. And I know the mangler wasn't going to try to enforce 15 minutes at the end of the day when he knew he'd lose what I was doing at the start of the day if he did.
Anyway, I decided before the end of the first week that I wouldn't allow the person who had lied to me to profit from the arrangement. And it only took about 5 weeks to sort something else out. At which point I took great pleasure in handing my notice in directly to HR, telling them my reasons for leaving. During which meeting they confirmed that hours are most definitely fixed, and flexible hours are not at the discretion of a mangler.
I have no idea what happened there after I left, but I like to believe that HR took what I said on board, and things changed for the better ...... but then I also believe that pigs and even 787 Maxs can fly!
I have no idea what happened there after I left, but I like to believe that HR took what I said on board, and things changed for the better ...... but then I also believe that pigs and even 787 Maxs can fly!
HR is not there for the benefit of the worker bees but for manglement. So, yes... they did nothing.
@KittenHuffer
"I stated that flexible w**king hours was very important to me"
"this was coming from the mangler I would be w**king for"
"What they didn't know is that I'd already been at my desk w**king"
"only to find me already there w**king away"
You seem to have spent an awful lot of time wanking during work time!
Most of the jobs I've had revolved around w*king. The very important project that you worked furiously on for 5 weeks and then are told there would be a 180 degree change of direction rendering the last 5 weeks as nothing more than a furious w*king session. Then of course meetings....
More to the point, why do people think that using placeholders to mask letters somehow changes the word into something non-profane? We (TINW) know you meant fuck, so fucking type fuck. If some fucker can't fucking handle it, they can fucking leave.
Or we can let the fuckheads who pretend to be easily shocked take over.
Back in the early 80's, the hours were technically 9-5 but it was common for my team to come in after 9:30 and work until the days work was finished, normally between 6 and 7 but often after 8.
New boss, flexing his muscles, insists on us turning up at 9:00 am.
Monday start at 9, leave at 5.
Tuesday start at 9, leave at 5
Wednesday, arrive at 9:30 leave at 7 and starting time was never brought up again.
A bit similiar to a job I had 10 20 30 years ago. My boss always arrived spot on 9:00:00.0000. My ferry either got me to work at 9:05 or at 8:05. Arriving at 8:05 resulting in a 55-minute wait for the doors to be unlocked. Consequently my boss always saw me "arrving late".
He always left at 5:00:00.0000. He never saw that I typically left at 6.
My best mate rolled into work one day at 0810. His boss called him in and said "We start at 0800."
His response was "I'll see you at the airport on Monday at 0800 then." Their flight was scheduled to leave at 06:00. His extremely rare slightly late arrivals at the office were never brought up again.
There's two things I regret about my old QA job at a certain game developer: not filing for constructive dismissal, and not finding a way to leave an opened pack of prawns hidden in the ceiling tiles of their shiny new office.
I guess I get the last laugh with a big fat "I told you so" about how requiring weekly bug ticket quotas would result in stuff being released as buggy messes, what with a certain recent release being absolutely panned for that very reason.
Many years ago (early 90s), the place I was at had a real a55hat as the operations manager. At the weekly production meeting he would regularly become apoplectic (bright red face, bulging veins in the neck) and he was quite easy to wind up. He also really screwed up our vendor relationships by squeezing every last penny out of pricing for components.
The downside to winding him up overtly was that he was in a position to make my day to day life difficult although I did not work directly for him.
For the said meeting, he sent out an edict that ties were to be worn.
I therefore wore a tie to the next meeting - one with all the Warner brothers characters (Taz, Bugs and so on). I could see then anger rising but I had complied with the edict and had indeed worn a tie; just not the type he was expecting.
My direct boss (CEO) was definitely amused.
I have a collection of toon ties (from Tie Rack). Tom & Jerry, Sheep, Doc & Wolf, Bugs, Coyote, a bunch of them.
I used to wear them to customer site back when wearing a tie was a common requirement. I got more than a few laughs out of it from customers.
These days, only manglement wears a tie, and sometimes not even them (except at banks - they'll still be wearing ties in a thousand years), so I still dress properly, but no more tie.
I almost regret that, but not quite.
During the XMas week though, I wear my XMas tree tie with Mickey Mouse on it wherever I go.
Ties were fair game for anyone with a pair of scissors at most early Silly Con Valley companies ... hand-built one-off prototypes often had voracious cooling fans. The theory was that if we starved 'em of ties they'd be too weak to do much other damage.
Not even IBM Field Circus folks were safe from the shears ... HP, somewhat wisely, decided ties were pretty useless fairly early on, as did DEC's Palo Alto contingent. Most of the other big names followed. Some of the Military brass working out of Ford Aerospace, Varian & etc. had special dispensation to do without neck-ware "so they'd fit in with the locals".
We had high hopes that it'd become a world-wide movement and we'd be done with the useless things for good. We're close. Soon.
Once had a mangler who thought he knew everything. He was bright, young, and had gone to a good school, where he had been in a fraternity (and this showed). Well, after having been annoyed by him one too many times, and having had a 0% raise due to management not getting their ducks in a row after a senior manager left without doing the proper paperwork for annual raises, I decided that enough was enough, and transferred to a different department as soon as the option was available to me.
Fast forward to the next reorg, and the department into which I was transferred was merged in to the one he was in, and I mentioned to my director (with whom I had worked at a previous company) that I would not, under any circumstances, work for that guy again. Two weeks later, the new org chart came out with me reporting to him. Another talk with the director, and I was moved to a different manager.
Don't work for arseholes.
Writing things in the snow reminds me of an incident at school many years ago now.
One of the teachers was named Harry <redacted> and was a bit of an odd character by virtue of a) being quite fat (claiming it was due to a glandular issue following a motorcycle crash in his youth) and b) wandering around the school muttering to himself, much like the proverbial nutter on the bus. Inevitably his passage was marked by the younger kids muttering " 'Arry, 'Arry" in response.
One weekend it snowed heavily enough to settle for a few days - a rarity for soft, southern UK winters - and the school field was covered in a deep, pristine layer. A 'team' from the fifth or sixth form broke in and scraped "HARRY" in hundred metre long letters into the snow, across the whole width of the field. Their genius - although I didn't realise it at the time and I'm not sure they did either - was to angle the letters slightly towards the staff room, which was on the ground floor at one end and looked out over the field, giving the staff a perfect skeuomorphic view.
I recall my form teacher struggling to maintain a straight face when the inevitable "Sir, sir. Have you seen what's written on the field?" was asked at registration.
Some people, I think, just genuinely don't have the same perception of personal space as most of the rest of us do (possibly they could be on the autism spectrum to some degree), and just aren't aware that they are standing much closer than most people are comfortable with. Thankfully you can usually resolve the problem either by taking a step back yourself, or, if need be, politely asking if they would mind stepping away a bit as it makes you feel uncomfortable (I suppose one tiny upside of greater awareness of viruses in the workplace just now is that you can more easily make such a request without seeming impolite).
I recall hearing of an incident a few years ago where one manager had a Trump like hair style. This prompted much discussion as to whether it was real or a toupee - general opinion was divided.
In the office we had ancient air con systems -- really only glorified fans with slot shaped vents mounted in the ceilings.
One day said manager was standing near one, in conversation with a group of 3 or 4 people; they gradually moved a little bit at a time to invade his personal space and caused him to move in response.
It was described to me as being like a slow motion, well-choreographed sheep dog exercise (though multiple 'dogs' and one 'sheep') as he was manoeuvred under the air con unit
The result confirmed it was a hairpiece.
Just wish I'd seen it !!
I once worked at an electric utility in a certain Caribbean country. The linemen in Transmission and Special Services, based in the Orange Street office downtown, were well known to be particularly bolshie, and to be effectively unfireable, the supply of people willing to work with 24, 69, and 138 thousand volt high tension lines being quite limited. The then Managing Director was well known to be the asshole of assholes. There was a strike. The MD attempted to invoke the Essential Services Act, a piece of legislation that said that certain people could not strike. He threatened to have the government send in the army to ‘enforce discipline’. The government, being rather socialist, was somewhat surprised; the army, having a distinct shortage of personnel qualified to play with high tension lines, was not amused. The Orange Street boys were enraged. A group of them came up to company headquarters, using company bucket trucks, and blocked all but one exit from the parking lot. The MD attempted to depart, driving his then brand new and very expensive company car. The Orange Street boys literally picked the car up and turned it over onto it’s roof, engine still running, MD still inside, blocking the last exit. They then went back to their picket line on Orange Street. Shortly thereafter the strike ended, the company conceded everything, the MD departed, and not a damn thing happened to the Orange Street boys.
Don’t annoy bolshie linemen. They’re insane and irreplaceable and know it.
I wasn’t a member of the union, and so couldn’t strike, and was at System Control on Washington Street… watching through the security cameras and ‘advising’ System Control management, as I wasn’t licensed to switch while they were, but I knew the SCADA system while they didn’t, and the staff at System Control had, for the first time ever, joined the strike. Right after the MD threatened to send in the army. There was a shortage of soldiers who were licensed to switch and even fewer who knew the SCADA system. There was a reason why the strike was settled really fast once System Control walked out… Don’t annoy the only people who can turn off every light in the island.
This. Oh so much this.
I tell people that I manage machines, not people. When asked why, i tell them because I can curse at machines without them getting upset, and if they really make me mad, I can put a fireaxe through them, which is something that HR frowns upon people doing with people. :)
I'm not exactly what you'd call a 'people person'....
The bit about the Dogbert cartoons reminds me of a (good natured) couple of pranks I pulled on a former coworker.
One day the company was holding some kind of all hands meeting and had smoothies from some company or other on offer. It was supposed to be one per employee, but this particular person took two because she was meeting her fiance for lunch or something. So on the way out some of us had a good time ribbing her about stealing smoothies. After getting back to my desk, I found a Word template that looks like an Old West wanted poster, then snagged a photo of the person in question off her Facebook page. Slapped it onto the page and gave her the name Firstname "Smoothie" Lastname, and said she was wanted for the stealing of smoothies. Then I convinced someone in the same building as her to print off a copy of it and tape it to her office door.
In my defense, this was largely my revenge for the time she literally hid around a blind corner to ambush me on my way out of the office for the day to ask me a question.
All told, I always enjoyed working with her. She always made life for me quite a bit easier compared to every other engineer except her protege, doing all those little things engineers were supposed to do before submitting change requests but most didn't bother with, so if once in a while she'd ambush me like that, I didn't really mind.
Still, you don't deliberately hide in order to ambush someone if it's just a simple question, and almost nothing was ever simple with her. She was a little too clever and ambitious for what the ERP the company was willing to pay for could handle and it was my job to try to shoe horn in some kind of solution. So, the good kind of difficult coworker.
...and still coping with his the pointy-haired boss.
(There were a handful of companies providing TCP/IP support at that time. I never worked at one but I've still got a t-shirt from one, "Pacific Softworks". I don't know their product offering but two of the others I worked with seem to be just hacks of the BSD stack.)
32 years, fist strip 16th April 1989. About 11900 strips. You can't go 32 years daily without repeating, especially since it is still the same joke. Compare with https://www.sabrina-online.com/ which started in 1996, it has more variety and is still alive.
Same with The Simpsons - except The Simpsons made several episodes to joke about it.
Southpark did that too. Including describing "The Simpsons did it" problem in season 6. 19 years ago...
But Sabrina Online (sorta) ended, and a new storyline started. Plus, EWS has it on a monthly basis, whereas Dilbert was/is a daily. Apples n oranges, friend.
It's the main reason why I stopped reading dilbert- it stopped being funny.
(For other good web comics with deep DEEP archives, I can also recommend Free Fall, The Whiteboard, and Schlock Mercenary. )
Haha this is quite lame, I have seen and done far worse.
Although my fave kharma was when I warned a boss about one of his managers and how he would end up costing the company a lot of money at he was a total bullshitter and a sociopath had no idea what he was doing.
I finally had enough and went to the boss and said it's him or me.
He chose the other guy, of course.
I eventually got a call from that boss begging for my help, as that sociopath had done exactly what I predicted and cost the company a lot of money.
To the point that they had to downsize, lay off half the staff and move to smaller offices.
I did go and help him, but I also gloated and made sure everyone in the office knew what had transpired.
It turns out this guy was a total numbskull and didn't learn from his mistakes and continued to make the same mistakes. He thought he was some Uber business man, but had a string of disasters over the years and continued to never listen to my advice.
The Register 
Biting the hand that feeds IT
Copyright. All rights reserved © 1998–2024
