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  • Writer's pictureMr. Jamoke


My dog recently won the “pet of the month” award in our building. Her reward; a $100 gift certificate to a local pet store. At first, I was very excited about the fact that one of my dogs actually generated revenue as opposed to costing us a fortune and taking a poop in the hallway twice a month. Then I realized the following pathetic fact: Being that I’m still unemployed, my dog actually earned more money than me last month. In a panic, I started thinking about whether or not that’s truly the case because I’m getting state-funded unemployment checks – but then again, receiving is not the same as earning…………. this internal philosophical debate only made me feel like more of a chump. You know you’re a winner when you’re debating the technicalities of who makes more money: You, or the dog? So, there you have it, I’m now tied for third in the family with our older dog. Even he beats me in a way because he’s 12 years old; he’s not unemployed, he’s retired.

Part (not all obviously, some of it is my fault) of the reason I’m in this quandary: Corporate America has completely lost its balls. When I worked in sales, I found the consensus buying process infuriating. “I really like this product, I think this would be great for my team, however, I’d like to get their opinion on it too. I want you to talk to Sarah and Sue about it.” Two weeks later: “Sarah and Sue loved it too but now I want to see if the other division would see value here, let’s set up another five conversations with them.” ---- We’re talking about a 50k product/service and a Fortune 100 client. Jimmy the intern probably had a 50k budget to work with when he was planning the company’s end of summer intern party. Fifteen grand to rent out some lame venue, 15 grand for the prepaid bar tab of Michelob Ultra and watered down well drinks (yet somehow everyone still got wasted), 10 grand for fruit salad and gluten free pizza (gotta keep things as bland as possible to accommodate every wiener in the world’s dietary restrictions), 10 grand in “swag” tote bags and key chains that were left behind or outright discarded. Hell, maybe I should have just taken Jimmy out for real drinks myself and had him buy the damn product.

Now, as an unemployed bum, I’m victimized by the consensus hiring process. I am currently awaiting a 6th round interview, gearing up for a fourth-round interview, and with some of the more mickey mouse companies I’m not even having real interviews. I’m just shooting the shit with random bozos. “My boss said I should talk to you but I’m not sure what exactly………….” – amateur hour. Everyone supposedly loves me, but apparently the whole corporate fraternity must have the opportunity to blackball me should they choose to do so.

It’s a total farce. Are we gonna slow dance all night or are you gonna make a fucking move? I’m getting vetted like I’ll be the new COO. I’m mid-level, at best. Nobody is going to issue a press release when I get hired. None of the decisions I make will be consequential to the company. The problem is that people today are so chickenshit that they don’t want to be associated with a bad hire or a bad purchase. “No no no, I didn’t hire that guy, WE agreed as a team that he would be a good fit.” Grow a pair! You are a Senior Vice President! Hire and then fire if you need to. You presumably make major strategic decisions for the company, commit us to 3-5-year growth plans, but you’re too yellowbelly to hire someone without 5 months of due diligence. Embarrassing.

Actually guys, the more I think about it, the more this makes sense. Corporate America is one giant freaking fraternity. Instead of ‘bows and toes and “do my laundry, pledge!” we’ve moved to a more sophisticated but equally excruciating form of hazing. Talk to 12 irrelevant douchebags over the course of 5 months, put on your little suit and fly across country three times for no reason…. “Are you sure you still want this job, Pledge!!!

Now this high-budget intern party makes sense too. It’s the final cut. Jimmy got sloppy after three MichUltras and ralphed in the urinal, no way he’s coming back next year. Darius though, different story. Darius had at least 10 G&Ts and held his own with all the managing directors. Better yet, he displayed zero interest in those idiotic tote bags that that half-wit Jimmy bought. FUUUCK Jimmy.

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