when idiots rule the world, i'm leaving

I realize that life isn't fair, but for some reason this knowledge doesn't seem to piss me off any less. This leads me to reason #384 as to why my job is suckier than yours.

There's this guy in our office who pretty much amounts to nothing more than a large, amorphous lump of flesh. The guy has absolutely no personality to speak of. I don't really hate the guy, but I can't say that I like him either. In truth, I have no more feeling for him than I do that large concrete pole that I park next to every morning. Early on, when he was hired three months ago, I would attempt the polite, office etiquette, nod hello or non-committal 'good morning', all of which were completely ignored by him. Rude, shy, or otherwise, this was more than enough of a reason not to waste any more vocal energy on him.

Now, the evil old twit who owns the place equates 'good work' with 'sitting quietly in your cubical, not talking or socializing with anyone, and walking through the aisles silently, not making eye contact for fear that someone may smile (which indicates happiness...a deadly sin in our office) or say hello...(thus causing noise, another deadly sin). And perhaps because of the non-personality that Slob Boy has, he instantly became the boss's pet, very much like the kindergarten teacher that clearly favored one student above all others. All of which makes perfect sense at our company because the evil old twit runs the place exactly like she would a kindergarten class.

Once the word spread that Byron, the slovenly, antisocial tool that he is, was working toward a Masters degree in journalism, he was instantly pegged as someone who would move up the corporate ladder very quickly.

Which would ordinarily make sense. In conducting a background check, the final product is the writing of a report...which journalism would seemingly help with. Granted, this type of 'report' writing isn't 'real' writing...because, honestly, there are only so many ways you can creatively construct engaging pieces of literature from questions such as, 'Do they get along with the people at work?' and 'Are they dependable?', yet Byron appeared to have the magic touch. So much so, that during a staff meeting, our boss announced, "you should all ask Byron for his autograph now, because someday he is going to be a great newspaper man!" And yes, 'newspaper man' is the exact term that she used.

All of this piqued my curiosity. And at the time, being one month into my two month promotion, I had the power to peruse some of Byron's work. So I took some time out of everyday to read the sentences that were going to make him famous. Here, word for word, are some examples of the extraordinary talent that a future 'great newspaper man' has:

"From what I have seen so far, when compared to what I have had in the past, I expect Jason to exceed my expectations."

"We are friends but we also used to work together also."

"We work for different companies but in the same area and we helped each other from time to time. We work by ourselves and when you are in the same location, you see each other frequently and we would help each other. We were not obligated to help each other but we do. I guess we would be co-workers but for different places."

"Most of the time Lee follows instructions very well sometimes."

Byron's great writing, of which this is just a small sample, turned out to be nothing more than large, steaming piles of shit. Byron is completely unable to convey even the simplest of thoughts in sentence form. If this is great journalism, then I'm planning on sticking exclusively to sitcoms and reality shows, abandoning any type of news for the rest of my life.

Yet the boss loves him. Senile, illiterate, stupid, or quite possibly all three, she has decided that Byron deserved a promotion. And, within three short months, he has become an Account Manager. Imagine a cocky, swaggering lump of clay, and you've got a pretty good description of Byron.

I have no desire to be promoted within the company, namely because I'm hoping to be offered a job somewhere else very soon. Yet I would truly like to work here long enough for the clients to realize that they're paying through the nose for this Byronese crap, quickly abandon the company, and leave the evil old twit bankrupt. But this probably won't happen. Because, just like with Byron's promotion, life is seldom fair.