Friday, January 23, 2009

Pay Cuts

So, I'm sitting in my office. Well, my cube, and I see Randall in the mirror I had attached to my computer monitor so nobody could sneak up on me and catch me doing my fantasy football "work." It's not one of those plastic mirrors, either. It's an actual rear-view off a 1971 El Camino. I immediately knew something was up, because he was actually "knocking" on the virtual door I have taped off.

Uh-oh. He NEVER does that. Usually, he just waltzes in (although sometimes it's a foxtrot in, Saturday Night Fever in, or occasionally a robot in, when he's had too many Red Bulls after lunch) and sits down, immediately picking up and playing with my Hulk Hogan action figure.

Well, this time, he knocked and when I spun around in my chair, he asked if I had a minute or two to talk. I knew it. We were breaking up.

Randall sat down and started right in on what he wanted to talk about. "Johnny," he said, "Mark and I are biting the bullet and taking a pay cut. We'd like you to do the same." While he was talking, he wasn't looking at me, but eyeing Hulk Hogan. GOD, I wish he'd keep his hands off my Hogan.

"Wow. That's difficult," I said. "I've got expenses. I just leased a new car," nodding out the window at my new Honda Element. "Plus, the feed bill on those cows is ridiculous." Every month I get the bill for feeding my livestock options, and I'm wondering if they're feeding those damn bovines Prime Rib or something.

"I know," Randall replied, "Mark and I are feeling it. I'm having to think about cutting my first name down to one 'L.' The gold engraving for new stuff I buy is just outrageous. Thank God when great-great-grandpa came here from the old country, he shortend his name to 'Mays.' Otherwise, everytime I bought something, the engraver would have to inscribe 'Randall Mayscenphiouzwicz. That would so totally suck."

I nodded. See, another lesson. Everyone's got problems. I can be so self-centered sometimes.

"Sure, Randal," I said, making sure I pronounced only one of the Ls. "I'm in."

"Excellent, Johnny. You're a team player. You know, all great CEOs do this, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Fahrid..." Well, not Fahrid, but those other guys definitely do it." He clapped me on the back, took one more covetous look at my Hogan action figure and started out. Then, he stopped short and turned around again.

"OK, so I'll have Accounting reduce your salary to $1 per year. That's before taxes, of course. You'll have withholding from that. You know, it'll be a lot more effective to do it retroactive too. Let's say to...last November. Way to go! High five!" He put his hand up in the high-five position, but before I could get mine up and do the HF (which I've NEVER gotten to do with Randall...Er, sorry, RandaL), he dropped his hand, spun around, pretended to open the virtual door to my cube and walked out.

Leaving the damn door open. At least I still have Hulk.

Hogan out.

3 comments:

Scott said...

You crack me up! This blog is great.
don't stop...keep writing..

Fake JH said...

Transistor Radio,

So I crack you up, do I? What, you think I'm here to AMUSE YOU? You think I'm FUNNY? How am I funny, TR? HUH? What, I'm cracking jokes and goin' all Jim Carey? I'm here pouring out my innermost thoughts and you think that's FUNNY?

And what the hell's with the transistor radio? What, you put it under your pillow at night and listen to Cousin Brucie when you're supposed to be in bed? You on the Jr. High Student Council? Got a flashlight there too, reading your COMIC BOOKS under the covers? OOOHHH, I hope your 9 volt doesn't give out.

Get with the times, and get yourself a boombox, tool.

Fake JH said...

Oh, and if you work for me, you're fired.