Where Do They Find These People?

Allah Jerry Springer, the king of the passive-aggressive reality shows. Who often asks: "Where do they find these people?" Referring to his rowdy guests.

I often wonder where we find the asst. managers that work for my company. And ultimately and unfortunately some work for yours truly.

They have little or no ambition. They have no clue as to what it takes to run a business, much less the restaurant business. And they're always taking the victim's role, like you're persecuting them or something. When you get in their shit, er, stuff.

They have it wrong. They persecute me. With all their mistakes. And all the whine.

I have come to the conclusion that I just don't like my mgmt. staff. And, Shirley, they feel the same way about me. But I could give a rat's ass.

Just tired of putting up with the mediocrity. And sensitive, shmensitive.

I would love to go back to the time where it was o.k. to call a subordinate an idiot.

"Bill, you're an idiot!"

"You hurt my feelings."

"I could give a rat's ass about your feelings, Bill. If you would give a little more effort, instead of just going through the motions."

"But I have feelings."

"Bill, I have feelings, too. And I'm feeling like you should get your ass in gear. And perhaps contribute a wee bit more-no, a lot more."

"I'm gonna report you to human resources."

"Bill, we have no human resources. What do you think this is? 2004?"

"I'm gonna cry."

"Bill, you're useless. And a wussy. Cry me a river. Anyone can open and lock the doors. It's what you do in between that counts. And speaking of which, what's that between your ears? Why don't you use it for more than a hat rack?"

"You're making me feel tighter than Dick's hat band."

"Sorry, Bill. Why don't you go back to Burger King? McDonalds? Cracker Barrel? And do us all a favor."

"Are you having problems at home that make you an asswhole?"

"Bill, I am not having problems at home; I'm having problems here at work because of YOU! And my personal life is none of your concern."

"Boo hoo. I want my mommy."

"Maybe your mommy could do a better job."

Can you tell the Pond has had a bad week?

Farewell and adieu, v.c.

P.S. Due to the insensitive diatribe, there are no postscripts tonite.