9 Signs Your Boss Thinks You're An Idiot

If you notice three or more of the following, it is time for you to start looking for a new place of employment. If you regularly experience all nine, like me, then I would skip any spontaneous meetings called by Human Resources.

1). He compares you to Jim Halpert from The Office. A brief description of Jim: "A seven-year veteran of Dunder Mifflin, Jim insists the job is just an extended stop on his career path and once stated that if it were his career, he would throw himself in front of a train."

2). He enters your cube without knocking and simply stands behind you for several seconds with a perverse look on his face, swaying back and forth like a giddy school girl at a Justin Timberlake concert. He breaks the silence by asking, "Whatcha doing?," hoping beyond all hope that it's something not work related.

3). He tells you that you look bored in meetings, and that he knows you care, however you don't show it, and he's just telling you this because he wants other people to know how much you care. Sadly, for the record, you don't care.

4). He'll grow frustrated speaking with you and change the topic of the conversation from the project at hand to sports, leaning back into his chair and letting out a sigh, while asking your opinion of the playoffs, or Super Bowl predictions for 2011.

5). He uses you in analogies to describe tasks that are impossible. For example, with a deadline he believes cannot be met, he'll say something along the lines of, "That would be like asking Bradley to write a Supreme Court brief." After a moment of awkward silence, he'll feel bad, and come clean that he probably couldn't write a Supreme Court brief either.

6). He'll blatantly spy on you and then pretend to have randomly discovered the information in the course of his day. So he might say, "I was just talking with Mr. Smith about an unrelated matter, and you're name came up, and Mr. Smith told me that you need to be more of a presence in the room when you lead meetings." Translation: "I had specifically instructed Mr. Smith to watch every second of your performance before reporting back to me with a detailed e-mail, in which he noted that your meeting lacked the spirit crushing formality and anal reminders that are hallmarks of the legal profession."

7). He tells stories where the "whole team" was working really hard, but stops to point out that you were not present. He then goes on a tangent to describe what you were doing instead of work, ie attending a hockey game, going out to dinner with family, sitting in a room alone while having sexual thoughts about the corporate logo.

8). He vaguely mentions a promotion during a random office conversation, and never re-visits the topic again. When you try to bring up the subject months later, he makes blanket pronouncements about how cost concerns are putting a freeze on advancement for current employees. Two weeks later your co-worker, who has been wtih the company half the time you have, is promoted.

9). He tells you that he foresees you someday in a position with the government, basically saying you are lazy, wasteful, and lacking the intellectual capacity to hold down a private sector job where one can be let go for such shortcomings.

Feel free to add your own signs.

[The Office] [Dunder Mifflin] [Jim Halpert]

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How to Get Fired with Dignity

It's hard to believe that someone could ever fire me, but thus far it’s happened twice in my life. The first instance was 1993, when I was 13 and employed by the local Red Roof Inn as a Handyman/Pool Boy. On my third day I was called into a room to unclog a toilet, but after two days, three bottles of Mr. Plumber, and a mild chemical burn, I was forced to turn in my tool belt. Sadly, I hadn't even gotten a chance to start my pool boy duties.

The second incident was slightly more devastating because I was 26 and a recent graduate from law school. My boss, Lola, was a bi-polar kleptomaniac who frequently gave me conflicting instructions, depending on which personality was in charge. The secretary, Clara, was an inept nymphomaniac who was in between giving birth to babies with anonymous fathers. Eventually, I decided it would be more productive for me to spend my days reading at the Barnes & Noble. This went on for about three months until I was invited to a meeting with HR one morning. Just a hint, when your boss invites you to a meeting with HR and doesn't give you a reason, it will probably not be good.

The year following my dismissal was easily the worst of my life to that point. I went on unemployment, moved back home with Mom, and attempted to deal with my mounting anxiety by taking walks around the neighborhood for up to three hours at a time. Yes, I was that dazed looking guy walking through the neighborhood in an undershirt at 3pm on a Tuesday. I also composed the following as a mini-tutorial for those who find themselves in a similar situation.



Once the shock wears off, one of the most difficult things you’ll face in losing your job will be telling your friends and family that you are no longer among the employed. I believe that some of the methods I utilized to explain the situation could be of assistance to you regardless of your audience. The first and most important lesson deals with terminology. Never, under any circumstances, use the term “fired” to describe what happened to your job. Sadly, this word is permeated with strong connotations of incompetence that will haunt you the rest of your life. Basically, if you screwed up, you shouldn’t want people to know about it, and even if you were let go for reasons that had nothing to do with your performance, nobody will believe that when you tell them you’ve been fired.

Luckily, there is a wide range of more appropriate language that you may rely upon when relating the harrowing tale of what happened to your position; words such as downsized, moved, laid off, outsourced, re-structured, and vaporized all relate that your job is gone, but also convey a sense that you are not the culprit, that you’re just another victim of those no good Wall Street billionaires selling out the country again. I chose to go with the term “laid off,” and for good measure added a profanity laden comment or two lambasting the unfairness of life and the pitfalls of free will.

One caveat is that it does help to go with a term appropriate to your field, as you should ask yourself whether you can expect anyone to truly believe your job at the Chuck E. Cheese was outsourced to India? Or merely vaporized? Even with this poor choice of words, most individuals would rather lie to themselves than accept the fact that someone they know and care about is unable to hold down a job at a restaurant with “Cheese” in the title. For those of you who don’t work at Chuck E. Cheese, the people who love you will usually still give you the benefit of the doubt.

In addition to how you phrase losing your job, another important detail is making sure that you have an “out” when telling certain people what happened. At the head of the groups you need an out when dealing with are those prone to emotional outbursts, as well as those you expect to be particularly hard hit by your dismissal. In times like these, being able to get away from them so that they have an opportunity to calm down can be of critical importance. Remember, losing your job is a draining process, and if you become forced to spend your valuable reserves crying and engaging in wild shouting matches, then you might not have the energy to lie on the couch and watch Dr. Phil fix a dysfunctional relationship by exposing its deficiencies to millions of television viewers.

Several options that I recommend to effectively and safely communicate the news that you’ve been ditched include calling from a safe distance, yelling from a moving bus, or simply cowering in the fetal position. Each option will supply you with the precious seconds necessary for a quick escape. However, I must add as a precautionary measure that if you do attempt to communicate through public transportation, you should try to focus on local buses and avoid those marked Cleveland.

I preferred the calling from a safe distance approach, and used it to relay to Mom my new status. I dialed her from Philadelphia, a solid two hours away from the family home in New Jersey, to explain that I had been “laid off.” Once she understood that “laid off” meant I would no longer be working at the firm, I braced myself for the torrent of crying that I was sure would ensue. I had my finger ready to set off the timer on the dryer when Mom, in a fairly calm manner, said, “I’m not surprised. I had a feeling the other day that this might happen.”

Remarkably, Mom was hardly alone in suspecting that my job might not last very long, as most people expressed similar sentiments. I wasn’t expecting family members and loved ones overcome by astonishment to fall to their knees and let out a resounding “Why Joel? Why sweet Joel?,” but a hint of surprise in their voice would’ve been a welcomed touch.

Apart from the questions raised about my mental state and suitability for permanent employment, my experience also illustrates that telling people you’ve lost your job does not have to be a stressful exercise. By carefully crafting the language you use in your story, as well as always having an out when dealing with difficult individuals, you can minimize the chances of having the majority of the blame placed at your doorstep. Keep in mind, that while it may appear at first glance that most people savvy enough too successfully carry out these steps wouldn’t have been let go in the first place, with enough preparation, you too can blanket the stench of your failure in the sweet smelling potpourri of half-truths and avoidance.

[Fired] [Laid Off] [Pool Boy] [India]

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The Modern Lawyer

The inevitable question, “What do you do?” As if reading from a script, people at almost any social gathering will move down their mental checklist and utter these four simple words right after feigning interest in your name and hometown. Because in our society one’s employment is viewed as providing an almost total insight into their personality, earning capacity, values, likes, and dislikes, the response to this seemingly innocuous inquiry will result in a label indelibly etched into the memory of all those within earshot. Members of certain vocations relish these opportunities, and stand with eyes wide and lips pursed, eagerly anticipating an opportunity to expound upon the many virtues of their chosen profession. For others, this is a moment of dread, when an otherwise pleasant conversation will become uncomfortable and tense, as you wait to see whether those with whom you are speaking will continue undeterred, simply sigh before prematurely ending the conversation, or, worse, go on an extended diatribe about how you and those like you are systematically destroying all that is good in the world.

In case you couldn’t guess, lawyers, along with anyone else who introduces themselves as a murderer, devil worshipper, or terrorist, are often on the receiving end of the tongue lashing described above. Generally, these moments present the ideal occasion to reflect upon the years of schooling, many stressful examinations, and mountains of debt accumulated in order to become part of this select class. Once the lecture has ended, there are a few moments to plead your case - i.e. that you are different, not like other lawyers, and that you really wanted to be a writer but you went to law school in the meantime - before your company disbands for the evening.

This was not how it was supposed to be. When I was growing up, being a doctor or a lawyer meant instant respect and admiration. Somewhere along the last few decades, doctors have managed to maintain their status as an honorable profession, while lawyers are regarded as ambulance chasing con artists, less concerned by the nuances of the law and the pursuit of justice than by trying to bilk every penny from powerless clients. In fact, I have repeatedly witnessed the greed and dishonesty of lawyers blamed for personal bankruptcies, the acquittal of dangerous felons, as well as vicious, drawn out divorce proceedings. Fortunately, it has been confirmed that the Titanic was sunk by an iceberg, or else there is little doubt that lawyers would have been held responsible not only for sinking the mighty vessel but also for the subsequent cinematic demise of Leonardo Dicaprio.

Can lawyers really be this bad? As with most complex issues, the answers are ambiguous at best. Surely, there are way to many of us, due in large part to the unnecessary proliferation of law schools and lax bar requirements that have made becoming an attorney more a matter of reasonable persistence than a case of tremendous ability. With the numbers crunch, lawyers unable to find meaningful work and having to repay huge financial burdens are likely more tempted to undertake cases and conduct themselves in a manner that a less desperate attorney might not, as contrary to popular belief, the average lawyer, including this one, is far from rich. Also, with this overabundance comes a sense of competition and rivalry among attorneys that does little to foster any sense of kinship that might make it easier to efficiently address the many problems facing the legal community.

In spite of these glaring deficiencies, I maintain that lawyers are really no worse than any other vocation. Look at the recent financial collapses of Enron and Worldcom, where an army of businesspeople and accountants conspired to defraud millions of people out of their hard earned pensions. Doctors have become less about healing the sick then pedaling Botox and liposuction to otherwise healthy individuals obsessed with their own vanity. Computer engineers and scientists have succeeded in creating a world of less human interaction and easier access to porn (which, I suppose some would argue is not such a bad thing). Real estate developers and builders help to turn swaths of pristine wilderness into cookie cutter duplexes and strip malls. Priests, once the essence of purity, are now at the center of investigations alleging child molestation. Yet, somehow these are the types of people who often feel that they possess the moral and intellectual superiority to condemn lawyers.

The core reason could be that whenever an atrocity is committed, the public sees the lawyer front and center answering questions in place of the accused. Therefore, even though we might not ourselves commit the appalling act, we are seen as somehow justifying it, as though carrying out our duty to represent our client to the best of our abilities makes us co-conspirators. The public still does not understand that being someone’s lawyer is not an endorsement of their views, or even a sign that you would like to have them over to your house for a fourth of July barbecue.

Let us remember that attorneys usually do not initiate lawsuits to represent themselves, but bring them on behalf of somebody else. Until we as a society can come up with a better means to settle our disputes, or possibly regain the medieval affinity for jousting, utilizing attorneys will remain the most effective method to do the job. Those individuals who continually harp about the wickedness of lawyers would probably have their objections fall on deaf ears if they ever had the chance to stage one of their patented sermons before the countless individuals who are unable to afford counsel and are defended by industrious, dedicated public employees, or the beneficiaries of the hundreds of thousands pro bono hours put in by lawyers and firms across the country.

Maybe it is telling that the main way through which I am able to extoll the virtues of my profession is not by pointing out our esteemed contributions to society, but to malign other occupations for their sins. Maybe these other groups would argue that I am overlooking all the good they contribute by stereotyping what they do and disregarding the principled majority in favor of focusing upon a couple of bad apples. Maybe, this is starting to sound a little too familiar, and you could mercifully spare me from having to spend my next night out listening to your trite and misguided rhetoric.

[Lawyer] [Vocation] [Doctor]

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If a Man screams in his cubicle does it make a sound?

The notion that the cubicle is the modern day wasteland is nothing new. Whether you want to liken it to one of the chains that binds us to our own personal Platonic cavern, a cage not unlike those used to constrain animals at the zoo, or merely part of the Matrix that occupies one's thoughts as futuristic machines harvest their bodies for nutrients, it is easy to see why few embrace their tiny enclosures. I used to be one of those who despised the cube, and would frequently join in with the haters lambasting its shortcomings and citing its existence as yet another sign that corporate America loathes its employees and seeks to humiliate them whenever possible.

I often fantasized about pushing down the wall to my cubicle like in the movie Office Space, so that I could finally bask in the natural sunlight that reached everybody’s desk but mine. During other days, when my neighbor would spend hours gabbing on the phone, my day dream involved taking a sledge hammer to the partition between us and creating a breach through which I could emerge on the other side, much akin to Stephen Tyler in the Aerosmith/Run DMC video. Only instead of singing Walk This Way, I would melodically urge my boisterous co-worker to take a moment to consider the effects her unabated personal discussions have upon those in her general vicinity and refrain from such inconsiderate personal conduct during business hours.

But today, as I sit back and admire my space, I can't help but ponder my cubicle's seemingly contradictory virtues. You see, my cube is both rigid and confining, yet is still open enough to allow people to enter without knocking. My cube is continually gripped by a state of disarray, yet it remains organized enough that I can locate what I need when I need it. My cubicle looks flimsy and temporary in design, yet it is somehow sturdy enough to withstand decades of use.

In fact, I am certain that my cubicle will exist long after me, and centuries from now, when we are long gone, and space alien archeologists descend upon our world, it will be the abandoned rows of cubicles that will represent the ruins of our generation. As these futuristic Indian Jones meander from office building to office building they will try to piece together the evidence to get a sense of how we lived as a species. They'll ask the basic questions about our thoughts, behaviors, and values, not out of spite, but because they'll assume that we at least contemplated the answers.

So I can only imagine what would happen if out of the millions of candidates, the explorers were to somehow choose my cubicle as their primary excavation site. Here, they would uncover notebooks filled with drawings created during meetings, at least fifty empty bottles of Propel fitness water, and a copy of a certificate stating that I had successfully completed the company's anti-pornography training. Based on these relicts, they'd think whoever occupied the cubicle was inattentive, over-hydrated, and neutered. I think that pretty much sums it up. The company wouldn't want it any other way.

[Matrix] [Indiana Jones] [Cubicle] [Office Space]

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Bradley Scares U Straight-Don't Go to Law School

I went to law school and I am not alone. Each year thousands of students find their way into the soul-sucking profession that is the law. Many have reached a point in their life where there is no clear path, so in their confusion they submit to three years of additional schooling. Others are told by their peers that they are good arguers or extremely anal retentive, and thus would make excellent attorneys, becasue afterall, being a lawyer is really all about two people arguing with each other over who has the bigger stick up their ass.

For those all-stars who aren't lucky enough to drop out or be expelled, they get to spend three years and thousands of dollars on a degree that is utterly worthless. A lot of people say a law degree opens up many doors. Bullshit! A law degree will open up one door, being a miserable lawyer, and thats if your lucky. Otherwise having a law degree on your resume is about as valuable as saying you spent three years as a crack whore. I'd actually argue that the crack whore experience is more valuable, because at least then you'd have a skill.

For me, everyday I go to work is more miserable than the previous one. Sometimes when I am sitting in a meeting listening to some fossil with dry mouth or overweight women squeezed into a pant suit drone on about boring details or irrelevant numbers my eyes will glaze over. Out of the darkness I will imagine a still photo of myself being punched in the balls by a giant fist. The fist is massive and has the word LAW tatooed on it in bold faced capital font.

The first photo of me is from when I was a young buck of 22, fresh from college and viral, ready to devour life and all its trappings as I proudly stand at attention without the slightest bit of trepidation. But then the muscular appendage moves in from the right side of the screen, and wastes no time striking my groin area with a couple lightning fast jabs. In response to the progressive beating the photo of me ages, and my features rapidly change from young to middle aged, and middle aged to old. Finally, my body crumples and sags until the fist is no longer punishing my balls, but is instead grinding an ashy pile of dust spread on the ground.

Then I wake up, check on my boys, and look around me. I wonder if I'm any better off.

[Law School] [Balls]

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