“Don’t think of me as your boss, think of me as your friend. Your confidant. Your leader, fearless and true,” says your boss with a twitch of his shoulder. “We’re all on this boat–that’s a metaphor for this company–and I’m your captain. We’re proactively setting sail for a market-guided, paracollinear journey.”
Kristy from HR rummages through her purse for an opportunity to yawn covertly. Pete the sales guru clicks his tongue in agreement and slugs 32-year-old fratboy T.J. in the shoulder, while T.J. looks at Kristy and tries to catch her eye. Meanwhile, Sue the biz dev princess interjects with a question about something, and in response the two interns take notes feverishly. During all of this, Marty the resident weirdo–
“…something to add?” your boss looks straight at you, yanking you out of your reverie. “The Captain cares. The Captain is open to suggestions.”
Shit. Busted.
A. “Just spitballing here, but how about the finer points of blow me down.”
B. “This is the best meeting of all time and we can go home now.”
C. “Actually, I think T.J. has something to share, namely herpes.”
D. “Sorry, never got the memo about caring.”
E. “Indeed.”
You chose E. Stress level => 38
“You’re the best,” proclaims your boss. “Flaky at times, but I can always count on you. There are team members, and then there are performance-centric, procedurally flexible team members.”
Sue glares at you. She secretly wants her nose to be the brownest.
“We’re in a vast jungle, and I’m the results-cognizant platoon leader,” continues your boss. “There are snipers–they’re metaphors for our competitors–in the trees, but I’ve come up with a plan to keep you all safe and maximize ROI. It’s genius, really–”
“I couldn’t agree more, boss,” interrupts Sue, pouting her lips. “In fact–”
“You’re all coming to work this weekend and the next.”
There is a collective gasp. Sue shuts her mouth. Kristy looks like she’s about to quit. T.J. snorts and Pete starts coughing uncomfortably. Marty begins mumbling to himself. The interns whip out their planners.
“I feel the synergy in this room,” he says contentedly. “Am I syncing with everyone?”
No, you think, I need to fix my car this weekend. Sleep under my bed. Maybe even talk to Frank. You clear your throat and…
A. Sob uncontrollably.
B. Swallow.
C. Put your plan into motion.
D. Cough all over the danishes.
E. Crawl under the meeting table.
You chose C. Stress level => 39
Out of the blue comes the solution to your weekend problem: your boss has a heart condition, which is really a metaphor for a heart condition.
“Damn it!”
You slam your palm on the steering wheel in frustration, wondering why they chose today to renovate the parking structure. A black hole would be less dense at this point. Even the handicapped spots are taken, with two of them occupied by that chubby loser who drives the Infiniti FX.
But who’s to judge? You spot a gap and squeeze next to the SUV, managing to scratch it only a little bit. Now it’s time to improvise, time to…
A. Key the other side of the SUV to give it matching scratches.
B. Leave a note with your contact information disguised as a death threat.
C. Shrug while a canned laugh track plays.
D. Construct a handicap decal with stuff you find in the backseat.
E. Call Geico and ask whether you must itemize when insuring circus midgets.
You chose D. Stress level => 37
Using paste, elbow macaroni, and crayons, you craft a stunning replica of a handicap permit and stick it on your windshield. As for the Infiniti? There’s no “I” in FX, so too bad. You step out of the minivan and immediately catch wind of the cat vomit on your shirt. You need to clean yourself.
90 seconds left.
You swipe your keycard, run into the nearest bathroom, and nearly collide with your boss.
“Heya, champ!” he booms, slapping you on the back. “How was your weekend?”
A. “I spent it typing cover letters for, uh, a friend.”
B. “Touch me again and I will break your fingers.”
C. “I don’t know, slugger, and you forgot to zip up again.”
D. “It was a two-day journey of soul-searching and discovery.”
E. “On Saturday I wrote your name 50 times. On Sunday I added hearts.”
You chose C. Stress level => 38
“It was fine,” you reply. “I’m really looking forward to this meeting.”
“Yeah?” he raises his eyebrow. “That’s what Henderson said. And I’m not one to disagree.”
He chuckles and scratches his crotch.
“It’s going to be a big one,” he says, shadowboxing and looking in the mirror. “We’re heading into Q4, and you fellas need a clear idea of where I’m steering this ship, where I’m pointing the rudder. Have I ever sailed you wrong?”
A. “Every single minute, babycakes.”
B. “Yaargh.”
C. “Well, there was that one time when revenue plunged 23%.”
D. “Rudder? I don’t even know her!”
E. “I still can’t believe you called me ‘champ.'”
You chose E. Stress level => 39
“Never,” you shake your head for emphasis. “You’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”
“Don’t I know it,” he slaps you on the back again. “Robust team dynamics. A clear vision. Goal-oriented, process-driven logistics. That’s me. Do I smell vomit?”
Stress level => 40
Remember the promise I made on Tuesday? We may have to go into overtime–yes, I’m speaking of a Saturday edition–to make good on it.
They say you aren’t supposed to get a flu shot when you already have the flu. What’s the worst that could happen if you got one anyway, huh? You’d basically be collecting more of the same. It’d simply be a bonus, and all that talk about breeding a mutant strain or getting even sicker? Balderdash.
I need to tell you something. The Shins just don’t cut it when you’re sick–some would argue even when you’re well. I’m listening right now and I periodically get mad at them. It’s like, “Thanks for helping my congestion by pumping more of your goddamn mumbling through my speakers.”