The people have spoken, and Don’t Say it to Your Boss has edged out Bad Idea Fireman. You asked for it.
- I need a raise.
- That just isn’t possible.
- I can’t stand working with__.
- I partied too hard last night–I’m so hung over.
- But I emailed you about that last week.
- It’s not my fault.
- I don’t know.
- But we’ve always done it this way.
- Let me set you up with__.
I know–this list is ridiculous and useless.
I’ve made some subtle changes to the entries. Here’s what you really can’t say:
- I need a raise; I can barely steal enough from the office to keep up with the rising cost of cocaine and hookers.
- That just isn’t possible. I need to take two hours for lunch; it difficult to get properly drunk in one hour.
- I can’t stand working with these voices in my head; they keep telling me to kill again.
- I Partied too hard last night–I was almost too drunk to have sex with your wife.
- But I emailed you about that last week; I directly indicated to you that a reactor core meltdown was imminent, it’s not my fault if you don’t check your email.
- It’s not my fault; how was I supposed to know bringing my pet chimpanzees to work would be frowned upon…I’m sure that feces will wash out of you hair.
- I don’t know. I would be better at my job if your woefully inadequate leadership skills didn’t fail to inspire me on a daily basis.
- But we’ve always done it this way…you galactically incompetent prick.
- Let me set you up with my cousin; she’s one of those genuinely well manner Neo-Nazi skinheads.
Do see how much better this list is?
As prime example of what not to say to your boss, here’s an event that actually happened at a place where I worked, involving my supervisor, a coworker named Bill and myself.
Supervisor: I think I should go on a diet and shed a few pounds before summer.
Bill: You don’t need to lose weight; you’re pleasantly plump.
(Several moments of painfully awkward silence.)
Supervisor (her face turning a shade of crimson): I’m what?
Bill: you’re pleasantly plump.
Supervisor: I’m plump am I? Plump is what I am? I’m plump?
Bill: no, you’re pleasantly plump.
Supervisor: so my plumpness is pleasant to you?
Bill: I like a girl with meat on her bones.
Me: wow, I can’t believe you thought the word meat would make this better.
Supervisor: so I’m plump and meaty. (turning to address me) Do I look pleasantly plump to you?
Me: (frightened): pleasant is not a word I use to describe you at the moment.
Supervisor: but am I plump?
Bill: There’s nothing wrong with having some junk in your trunk.
(She literally became so angry she couldn’t speak.)
Me: you really need to stop the words from coming out of your mouth, Bill.
She tortured Bill for weeks, screaming “watch out, there’s fat coming through,” every time she walked by him. It was funny.
You can now go to work secure in the knowledge you won’t say the wrong thing to your boss.