The Sweet Release of Death

David Lee Roth, Panama, Jaguar,Crack, Unicef,Paris Hilton

I'm Kind of a Big Thing... In My Mind

08/10/2010 08:59 PM Filed in:The Douche Chronicles

One way to look at the daily work grind is that of a test. A test that determines just how much crap one person can take from the collection of two-legged science projects the Big Boss has decided to collect for workplace follies. But what really turns Mr. Hand into Mr. Fist is that within this group, there is the annoying presence of The One. As in the one with the over inflated ego. Corporate Land is not immune to this type of villain, there are some egos floating about but one in particular sticks out like a clump of veggies on Kirstie Alley’s dinner plate. Yes, its always raining champagne and every event is a red-roped party in his honor. Yes, Corporate Land is blessed every day with the presence of The Rocker.

What’s funny about The Rocker is that the Ego doesn’t just click on once he crosses the threshold of the Corporate Land front door. No way Jose! I’ve had the distinct pleasure of witnessing The Rocker on his drive into work and what a sight it is! Its like observing a rolling checklist of what not to buy, what not to wear, and how not to carry yourself unless of course you are striving for the tip-top position of Doucheland. Gaudy Jaguar. Check. Wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses (on a dark cloudy day no less) Check. Driving like you are David Lee Roth in the Panama video. Check. Now I’m not knocking Diamond Dave at all, I just reckon that anyone encroaching on his turf should be digitized and injected into an Air Supply video for their style crime. There is only one David Lee Roth! But I digress.

Now The Rocker isn’t that bad of a guy, he is a fellow musician and a fellow artist but that is where the similarities end. When The Rocker scores a rather large sale, he becomes stricken by the darndest case of tunnel vision I’ve ever seen. The big job becomes all encompassing of his time and attention and those of us handling his smaller jobs are left to care for his abandon babies not unlike a grandparent of a crack whore. If the orders could talk it probably be along these lines: “ PaPa, where’s Rocker Daddy? Well Nippsy, Rocker Daddy is probably in an abandoned house blowing somebody for a piece of rock.” Its moments like these that tug at the heartstrings with the knowledge of the damage done to a hopeless work order. The cards were stacked against it… It is with the abandonment of smaller clients by the Rocker that frustration sets in. It produces a by-product of forgetfulness and loathing that makes Paris Hilton look like a compassionate Unicef aid worker.

It is the foster parents of The Rocker’s work orders that deal with the arrogance and forgetfulness that brings about toxic levels of disdain. E-mails are sent to the Rocker for details that were simply left out by lack of caring. It is the response from The Rocker that can awaken the foster parent’s inner Mel Gibson. “I didn’t get your e-mail. Are you sure you sent it? “ The Rocker is the master of spinning a yarn of plausible deniability– the sad thing being it is only for his benefit, cause we all know he is full of shit. The Rocker on a good day will be somewhat responsive, stopping by to toot-toot his horn of his latest high-dollar sales exploits, and how many more notches upward that put him within reach of the Big Brass Ring. Oh my precious!

Every now and then the Office Gods set in motion an action that I like to call “The Equalizer” or as my dad used to call it “The Humbler”. For example: The Rocker sealed a deal with a large sports team that required a set of banners being unfurled at specific times for each specific banner during a major event. The Rocker busted everyone’s balls involved in the project making sure everyone knows their specific duty. Basically, acting as the stage boss from hell. But hey! What could go wrong for he is The Rocker! The Performer Supreme! Well… The Rocker didn’t fully inspect his work and in front of 60 thousand fans, proceeded to unfurl the mess at the wrong time much to the four-lettered-word screaming horror of his client. Ah the Humbler! That little boo-boo cost us a client but it also silenced The Rocker and sent him underground for an endless helping of crow, shoe foot, taint… for a good month or so. But the audience is fickle and once the stage lights lit up and led him out of the basement, The Rocker grabbed his Golden Scepter Baby Rattle and sprung back onto the Corporate Land stage. Still singing the same tune while prancing about the stage. Now as deafening as The Rocker’s arrogant toot-toot horn blowing is, I tolerate it as best I can for I know that, eventually, The Humbler is a comin’ and I live for that fat, juicy sour note. The audience is listening indeed.

Tags: David Lee Roth, Panama, Jaguar,Crack, Unicef,Paris Hilton