You're an Eight Update 2

Here is the email exchange that I had with my lawyer regarding my office’s urinals being too close for comfort. I’m hoping that Jim J. Bullock will play me in the made for TV movie.

Hey Lawyer,

At work yesterday, I was urinating and a guy came in and sidled up next to me…there’s really not enough room for two people to pee next to each other and he kind of brushed up against me.

It really pissed me off, so I researched urinal code and the city of Overland Park requires that they be 30 inches center to center (and have a privacy partition, which these do not). I measured and they’re not even 25 inches apart. There’s not enough room to spread them further apart and the city code manager said it would be a lot of work to move them (I haven’t told him how far apart they are). If they took one of the urinals out, I imagine they wouldn’t be up to code with how many toilets they need per employee…but that’s just a guess. If that were the case they’d have to reconfigure every men’s room on all 10 floors of our building. Oh, I guess I’d need to know who owns the building.

So, why wouldn’t I have my lawyer go to my company and inform them that his anonymous client will agree not to inform the city and save them thousands of dollars in repairs in exchange for a large cash payment? Is that illegal? If so, I could get a doctor to write me notes about my newfound fear of urinating in public and subsequent health problems and mental anguish and it could be the next “sue McDonalds because they serve hot coffee” case. Maybe I should have sent this letter to that lawyer on Seinfeld…Jackie Chiles…instead of you.

If you laugh and call this idea ridiculous, then I was just trying to get more material for my blog. If you forsee me being a thousandaire, then I was dead serious. It’s a choose your own adventure lawsuit.

Choose wisely,
Matt

Matt,

Sorry for the late reply. I was traveling all last week. You have presented a very complex problem. However, I do understand you discomfort with the close proximity of the other users. I will have to look into it. The problem is that that the toilets were probably installed under a different code or they never would have passed inspection. I do have to commend you for your research on the urinal code.

Very impressive.
Lawyer

Looking for a life (coach)

Yesterday, I searched for an online community for comedy writers and found writers dot com. It gives aspiring writers the chance to meet/stalk other aspiring writers. Members can post their work and discuss writing on the message boards. On the surface, it appeared to be exactly what I wanted.

But, after a few minutes of navigating through some writing samples, I was having trouble finding people who share my passion for revealing personal mental problems via the written word. So I decided to start clicking profiles to get a feel for the other members. The first profile I looked at said…

“I’m a 35 year old guy and I write teen giantess stories.”

I thought that was pretty funny, until I realized he wasn’t a comedy writer. He went on to talk about a line of teen giantess comic books he was planning to write. Does he write about giant teenage girls? Or does he write giantess stories for teens? Either way it’s a disturbing genre when it’s written by a 35 year-old dude. I felt like I’d accidentally been linked to a bizarro My Space site…where the weirdos are encouraged to admit the depth of their depravity.

As bizarre as this guy seemed, I’m pretty sure he’s the type of guy with whom I need to surround myself if I’m going to be a successful writer. I don’t know what type of writing I want to pursue, so I write whatever moves me on any given day. I end up writing all kinds of random crap without any specific direction or long term plan. I need a writing/life coach to point me in the right direction, much like the twisted mentor who directed the poor 35 year-old freak show to the highly profitable teen giantess market. One day I hope to focus my writing on a topic that’s equally meaningful.

You're an Eight Update

Here’s the follow-up on my previous conversation with the city Plumbing Code Administrator…

PCA,

People actually argued against privacy partitions in urinals? Now there's a cause you can be proud of. What is wrong with people?

Thanks for the info regarding the urinal spacing code. I'm actually going to bring my tape measure in to work to see if the urinals are 30 inches apart. Just out of curiosity, what would the repercussions be if the urinals are not spaced properly?

Thanks,
Matt

Matt,

The issue hasn't come up before so I don't know what action we would take. It would be a big deal to move the urinal; my guess would be that we would be reluctant to get involved over an inch or two.

PCA

That's what she said.






As you can tell by the photos, horizontal stripes are not slimming. As you can also tell, the urinals are more than 5 inches closer than the 30 inch minimum. I have uncovered a huge scandal. I may be in over my head.

Before I think about what to do about this situation, I’ll describe the action that took place to get those pictures taken…

I emailed a friend requesting that he meet me in the 6th floor men’s room to take pictures of me. I was a little uncomfortable with how quickly he agreed. I had a small digital camera, but he showed up with his own industrial sized super camera with wide-angled lens. Again…slightly uncomfortable.

We walked into the bathroom together; me holding the tape measure and him holding his camera…I’m sure that happens all the time in corporate America. Luckily a guy was just finishing his business in stall number two and I quickly walked out while my friend tried to play it off like he had to go.

I waited for a while and after I thought the other guy had left, I walked back in and almost ran into my camera guy, who was nonchalantly walking out of the men's room with a huge camera in his hand. I washed my hands until the other guy left.

My friend came back in and we took the pictures. We left at the same time still holding the camera and tape measure. Someone should have taken a picture of us walking out of the men’s room. It would have been great for a caption contest.

I have indisputable visual evidence that the urinals in my office are way too close together. So now what do I do? Tell the city? Consult high-powered lawyer Denny Crane? To be continued…

Interoffice Romance

My relationship with the office janitor has taken an uncomfortable turn. The last two times I’ve seen him, he’s touched me.

The first time was in the elevator. It seemed innocent enough. I didn’t notice that the elevator was downward bound and I think I got his hopes up when I inadvertently joined him on his ride to the basement. When I realized my mistake, I muttered something about not realizing the elevator was going down. He gave me a reassuring pat on the back, saying, “It’s okay”. He’s like the big brother I wish I never had.

Today I used my newfound Native American powers to sneak up behind him in the break room. I was trying to grab a cup and get out of there before he could see me, but he must have some pretty sweet peripheral vision or maybe he memorized my scent, because he turned around quickly, saying, “Oh boy, you scared me”. I think he wanted to hug it out, but I turned my shoulder, which he patted. I gave a half-hearted smile/look of disgust and got out of there.
So far his touches have been “appropriate” yet unwelcome. But, I’m worried that he’s going to try to take our relationship to the next level and go up my shirt next time.

To Do List:

1) Set up a meeting with the Janitor to clearly define our relationship.

2) Stop wearing blouses with plunging necklines until this blows over.

This is not working

I don’t bother answering my phone at work. People that call me like to work, while I prefer not to. I’ve found that when I let the call go to voicemail, the caller ends up leaving a message that I don’t have to listen to. If I’m slow to respond, they’ll likely find someone else who likes to work. I see myself as the Chuck Woolery of Accounts Payable. I help make love connections between freaks who enjoy Accounting.

I like to think that I don’t work for the good of the company. After all, I’m only pretending to be an accountant. If I try to answer questions and guess wrong, I’m liable to set off a chain reaction that could bring down the entire company.

My degree in English Literature may not qualify me to prescribe antidotes to serious accounting issues, but, it does enable me to write meaningless filler material on the document that summarizes my yearly accomplishments. For example, many people would see not answering my phone as a negative. I’ve clearly explained why that’s not the case, but I can’t be as blunt as I’ve been above for my year-end review. Instead I’ll say, “I have driven efficiency by streamlining the information pipeline”.

Letter to Indians

Today I found a feather in my car, prompting this letter...

Dear Indians,

I’m so sorry. Ever since my people (fat, balding Norwegians with bad moustaches) set foot on your land you’ve had a rough go. For the love of Mike, why in the hell are you still called Indians? America is nowhere near India. Only stupid white men would go 400 years without admitting such an obvious error. Is there a name that you guys prefer…that’s less offensive than “Indians”? How about “Savages”? I’m sure that went over well when you found out what the white man was calling you.

This morning I saw a feather in my car and started thinking about Indian scouts. Now there’s a profession where Mr. Darwin’s theories make sense. If you’re good you can slip away from danger quietly, go home and have relations with your Squaw to produce the next generation of talented scouts. If you suck, you get shot in the face by a musket. The strong survive.

I’m sure in the scout industry there was a “chosen one”…a scout that from the time he was a wee one was going on the talk show circuit showing off his mad scouting skills. He went on to graduate first in his tiptoeing class and was the first to earn a perfect score on the standardized test that measured one’s ability to make weird animal noises with one’s armpits.

But, even the chosen one couldn’t escape the white man’s wrath and was sent to a top secret CIA prison, where his scouting talents were rendered useless. By the time he was released, an Indian Casino and Spa had replaced the forest. What was he supposed to do with his gift? What a wasted life. No wonder he turned to fire water. He was the most respected tip-toer in all the land and suddenly his livelihood, the thing that brought his life meaning, was ripped from him.
So, he’s forced to settle for a job in an Indian casino…where sneaking up on people isn’t much of a challenge. The crowd is mostly blue-hairs with bad hearing. The place is so loud with the clanking of slot machines that creeping up and slitting a geriatric throat or two wouldn’t bring the same sense of accomplishment. The best he can hope for is that one of them has a cardiac arrest when he sneaks up behind them and quickly hands them a 2 for 1 buffet coupon.

While I’ve got your attention, are you happy with your current entertainment in your Indian Casino’s overnight lounge act? Do you have the kind of talent that is so bad that people get up and walk out? I’m that kind of talent.

I’m lucky I was born when I was. If I had tried to outsmart an Indian scout in the old West my fat ass would have stepped on multiple twigs and I would have ended up with a flaming arrow in my eye. But, now, my plodding unfunny schtick can help the Indian people by sending people out of the lounge and back into the casinos to lose their life savings. Usually with my comedy, everybody loses, but this is a chance at redemption for both of us. I’ll swing by later this week; we can smoke a peace pipe and talk more about sticking it to Whitey.

Thanks,
Matt from 2HW

Editor’s Note: Wow. Rarely does my writing have any meaning, but upon further review I realized that I am that Indian Scout…the chosen one. My prison is a tiny little cube that I sit in from 9-5 everyday. My considerable gifts are useless in the world of Accounting. I’m letting the white man stick it to me. So, I can settle: choosing to turn to firewater aka Jack Daniels and rot away and die in prison. Or I can get it together and stick it to the man by writing ridiculous letters from this prison that no one reads.

I sent this letter to Craig and he fired back with this too good to be true link… Akicita. Say hello to my new buddy comedy partner.

I had no idea that Atkinson was an Indian name. In addition to being my namesake, this guy appears to be my soul mate. He’s everything that Craig wasn’t. He’s a real Native American, he plays the cello, wrote a 530 page book on Indian rights, and is working on a rock music project. He sounds hilarious. Wait. What? You say he’s serious? Oh my…lanta.

His son, aka “his most important struggle”, is in for a hell of a life. It’s bad enough trying to grow up in the shadow of such a well-known father, but to try to make it through life with the name Cheyenne River Atkinson is going to be rough. And here I thought my cousin Honey Lou Atkinson had it bad.

Picture Cheyenne River on the first day of school, playing the “What did you do this summer?” game. Cheyenne’s response, “Not much. Probably the highlight was helping my mom bail the Warrior out of jail when his one man protest at the Home Depot went horribly wrong”.

Letter to Congressman

Yesterday, I posted a letter to people who make my life miserable via email. Today, I’m doing something about it. Tomorrow, the world will be a better place if you join my campaign by mailing the letter below to your congressman.

Dear Congressman,

I’m writing today to make you aware of a problem that is spiraling out of control in corporate America. Sarbanes-Oxley was put in place to protect American workers from another Enron-like debacle. Yet, there is currently nothing to protect us from a horrific problem that affects every single employee in Corporate America.

Before I get into the issue, I’d like to talk a little bit about hate crimes. I believe hate crimes often get negative press, because the victims don’t deserve to be hated. When simple minded Neanderthals decide to perform despicable acts based on a person’s skin color, religion or sexual orientation, there is absolutely no way to justify that type of behavior.

But, what if I told you the type of behavior I’m seeing every day in corporate America was so bad that it made hate crimes justifiable? As you’ve probably guessed, I’m speaking of the growing trend of people putting ridiculous quotes in their email auto-signatures. When someone ends an email using 18 point, italicized, turquoise font saying, “If you see someone without a smile today, give them one of yours,” they deserve to be punished to the fullest extent of the law.

Yet, the law does not yet protect me and other at-risk Corporate Americans from these types of nutjobs. People all over our great district are suffering at the hands of these people, who
feel it’s appropriate to close an email to a complete stranger with, “If you want to be a smart cookie, you can’t have a crumby attitude,” or…
Together
Everyone
Accomplishes
More

These people must be stopped.

I’d love to do it myself, but if I learned anything from Judge Wapner, it’s that I shouldn’t take the law into my own hands. Plus, I’m an Accountant with no Capitol Hill knowledge outside of that cute little cartoon Bill who wanted to be turned into a law. So, I’d like you to draft up a cute little bill that would legalize hate crimes against those who choose to send these types of emails.

For simplicity’s sake and because everything in Corporate America has an acronym, I’ve come with a word to identify these people…QUEERs. That’s an acronym for QUoters who send Exasperating Emails Regularly.

I understand that you might at first be hesitant to sponsor a bill legalizing hate crimes against QUEERs, because to some that might be offensive. So, let me redefine the term “hate crime”. (As soon as I post my definition on Wikipedia.org, it will be universally accepted as fact.) In no way am I saying you should endorse groups that set fire to these people’s cubicles or spray paint “Stay Home QUEERs” on their desks. The type of hate crime that I’m picturing is something equivalent to the opposite of the National Do Not Call list (which protects Americans from unwanted calls from telemarketers). Hate crimes against QUEERs would involve turning over QUEER’s email addresses to every possible type of mass email list. QUEERs would be SPAMed until they are rendered useless…their entire day would be spent deleting the millions of emails they would receive.

It seems like a simple solution to a massive problem, but I can’t do it without your help. While you’re working on drafting the bill, I’ll start a volunteer group to administrate this non-partisan grassroots campaign. It’ll be called I’ll Rally Against QUEERs. Please do your part in the fight against QUEERs by changing your auto-signature to look like the one below…

Thanks,
Matt

Proud Supporter of
I’ll
Rally
Against
QUEERs

Don't Quote Me

Dear People whose email auto-signatures contain ridiculous quotes,

I hate you.

Don’t misinterpret that. I didn’t say that I hate your auto-signature. Or your quote. It’s you. I hate you.

Why do you think I’d be the least bit interested/amused/inspired by one of quotes like the ones below that I pulled from actual emails you’ve sent me…

“If you see someone without a smile today, give them one of yours.”

“Can and Cannot is always the right answer, which one are YOU?” (Side note: Does that even make sense? If anyone can explain it, please leave a comment.)

“If you want to be a smart cookie, you can’t have a crumby attitude.”

You horrible people need to be punished. It’s bad enough that you include these quotes in work related emails, but you increase my cringe-factor tenfold with the fonts you choose for your mini-motivational speech. I’ve collected over 60 samples, and in every single one of them the oversized, colored font used for the quote is either bold or in italics.

Please stop the insanity before you get hurt. If you choose to continue to use a quote in your auto-signature, please stop reading my blog and get bent.

Thanks,
Matt

If you’re still reading, please open Microsoft Outlook and go to Tools > Options > Mail Format > Signatures > New. Title it “Work’s for PHAGS”. Click Advanced Edit and copy and paste the signature below into the box. Insert a hyperlink to this page and change the names, font and formatting as you see fit. Click Finish and give yourself a high five.

Your Name Here
Company de la Man
“I support Matt’s legislation to legalize hate crimes against idiots who put stupid cheer-me-up quotes in their auto-signatures.”

Thank you for your support in promoting the first-ever meaningful auto-signature quote.

That's Freaking Teamwork?

On a typical weekday I put on my Accountant costume and pretend to work in Corporate Accounts Payable. Today, however, was not a typical weekday. It was our dreaded team builder, and for this special occasion the Man instructed us to dress wacky. That proved to be asking too much. When I got to the bowling alley, it looked like just another Casual Friday. Accountants don’t do wacky.

Even the Man herself, our VP/Controller, was a little confused by the concept. She told us that she had a reputation for hating tennis shoes, but in an effort to be wacky wore one tennis shoe and held up her foot to reveal this.

Technically, the correct pronunciation of that word is “san-dull”.

All told, there were 9 people out of 142 who dressed wacky. 7 of the 9 were The Man and her directors. One of the other two was the MC for the event. Ordinarily, an MC might be chosen for their personality. Ours barely had a pulse. He’s the department Actuary. We found out the hard way that the only way to make a gathering of 142 Accountants any less fun is to have an Actuary as the comedic centerpiece.

In between every speaker, he gave us Geography quizes. No joke. He’d try to mix in something funny every once in a while, but bombed. To put his sense of humor in perspective, his costume consisted of a sombrero, a poncho, a painted-on moustache and a golf club. He was the “Golf of Mexico”. That was literally his best joke of the day.

Luckily for him, he’ll be forgotten because our motivational speaker was even worse. A former major league ball player (FML) delivered a speech that gave us the same amount of hope as a typical Matt Foley speech, but without Matt’s trademark energy.

FML was equal parts monotonous and clueless. His whole speech was a train wreck. It had no flow or cohesion. He kept talking about us making sales, apparently not realizing that we’re all Accountants. He made no effort to be funny and didn’t tell us any cool war stories from his days in the bigs.

He opened by telling us we might not know that there are a lot of similarities between baseball and business. He proceeded to tell us none of those similarities. Instead, he chose to tell us the job of each batter in a baseball lineup. The funny part was he really didn’t have any clue what each batter was supposed to do.

Some lowlights…He claimed that the sixth hitter “has to get on base any way he can…that’s his job”. The seventh hitter has to bunt, “he has no choice.” He claimed the number two hitter could get 3 or 4 hundred at bats a year. Try 5 or 6 hundred. He didn’t mention the importance of batting the team’s power hitters in the 3 and 4 holes, but instead said that they need to hit .290, .300, or .340. The number 5 hitters made the most money and got all the glory because they drove in those 3 and 4 hitters who were always on base.

He continued his great baseball analogy by telling us that he had porters at his Bowling Alley who were supposed to clean the lanes when people left. If they didn’t do their job, the next customer would come in, complain about the dirty lanes, and get a refund. Which I took to mean that he was likening us to his porters. As long as we do the grunt work, people like him will get rich. If we screw up, it will cost the Man money. The end result was probably not the desired form of motivation…I’m more motivated than ever to stick it to the Man via this blog.

The meeting was held in FML’s restaurant. His Neanderthal “me throw ball fast” persona carried over to the signage in the bar. One sign read, “No coolers or ice chests are allowed.” Could that possibly be a big enough issue to warrant a sign being made? What kind of moron thinks that it’s appropriate to BYOB to a restaurant? Another small sign was hung at eye level behind the bar it read, “Cod fish sandwich $4.95”. I’m sure a lot of people head up to the bar for a Bud Light, but are convinced to get the Cod fish sandwich instead due to the brilliantly placed advertisement.

The afternoon speaker is crucial at these events. He’s usually a high-energy funnyman who wakes us up after we overload our bellies with free food. We were lucky enough to get a VP from marketing. But, he began by saying, “I’m very comfortable speaking to groups like this because I began my career as an Accountant”. That was it for me. I had to go take a walk.

Somehow I made it through the mini-golf and bowling activities without killing any of my socially awkward colleagues. Next year I’ll be taking a vacation day instead of attending this event. Wait, if I’m still pretending to be an Accountant at this time next year something’s gone horribly wrong. Who knows what could happen by then? With a lot of hard work on this blog maybe next year at this time I’ll be cleaning the bowling lanes rather than suffering through manufactured corporate fun.

Mandatory Fun

Tomorrow we have a team builder/training session scheduled at a bowling alley. The agenda said our time will be split between “personal development” and corporate America’s version of fun. The meeting maker for the event had two options: Attend or Take a Vacation Day. Forcing me to have a good time or take vacation didn’t sit well with me. Would it be asking too much for me to want to come in to the office and work (on my blog)? Here are the emails I sent to HR on the issue…

HR contact,

We are having a team builder tomorrow at Incredi-Bowl and are being forced to either attend the “fun” or take a vacation day. I’ve had about all the manufactured departmental fun that one guy can take and would greatly prefer to just do my regular job. Is there any policy against forcing employees to take a vacation day if they don’t attend a team builder?

If it helps my cause, I could produce a doctor’s note that says I have a fun allergy.

Thanks,

Matt

(HR requested I call to discuss)

HR,
I’d feel awkward discussing the subject on the phone with my boss sitting in the next cube. More than anything, I was frustrated this morning to get yet another email with 48 point green font reminding me to dress wacky for this required event. If it’s acceptable per HR policies to force us to team build or take a vacation day, that’s fine. Let me know if that’s the case and I’ll be done with it. I’ll just paint on a smile and sing the (Company Name) fight song with the rest of the group.

Thanks,

Matt

I cannot get away from corporate fun. The fun committee lady came by today as I was borrowing a co-workers camera to take a picture of me by the urinal. She is a lady that I had already tried to stay away from. She’s loud, obnoxious and tries to talk to you in the elevator. Now that I know she heads departmental fun, I am convinced that the meetings would result in this blog’s best material to date. But, I can’t possibly bring myself to join the committee. I need to figure out a way to give her my audio recorder to record the meetings.

When she came by she said, “You’re on Blank 1’s team, right?” We reluctantly said, “Yes”. She said that no one from our team had volunteered for the fun committee. I sarcastically said, “Really? That’s very surprising”. She said she heard that Blank 2 was fun and I told her that Blank 2 has led the league in fun all semester and would be a great candidate. She rolled her eyes and walked away. Funtastic.

You're an Eight

I had a horrifying restroom experience yesterday, which prompted the email below to the city Plumbing Code Administrator…

PCA,

The urinals at my place of business seem to be dangerously close together. I just had the worst case of stage fright I’d ever experienced while attempting to urinate. There’s usually an unspoken rule observed in our office restroom that you use the sit-down toilets if someone else is using one of the two urinals. The guy that entered the restroom just after me was either into me or was unaware of such a rule, because he sidled up right next to me and went about his business. I’m pretty sure at one point if our shoulders weren’t touching, our shirts certainly must have been. I was in such shock that I just stood there frozen, unable to start urinating. He finished and left before I could get my floodgates to open.

Afterwards, I thought “Surely there must be a law against urinals being so close together that men literally rub elbows with each other while urinating”. Thankfully, when I googled “code for required inches between urinals”, the first link was Overland Park’s adoption of the new 2006 plumbing codes. It listed you as the contact for such issues.

I’m writing today to ask you if the code requiring partitions between urinals has been adopted and to see if there is a standard distance that is required between urinals. I’d hate to have to start peeing sitting down, but I’d rather look like a chick than have some dude leaning on me while I’m trying to relieve myself.

Thanks,
Matt

Matt,

The minimum clear space between urinals is 30 inches (center to center). There will be a new provision in the 2006 plumbing which will mandate privacy partitions between urinals. I welcomed this change. However, you would not believe all the people who argued against it.

PCA

To Do List:
1) Bring tape measure to work tomorrow.
2) Write a letter to my congressman requesting the death penalty be reinstated for people who fight against privacy partitions between public urinals.

Popcorn Update

I should have never started this section. I feel like I know too much. My life could be in danger. I don’t know how John Stossel does it. In a previous post, I mentioned our inability to pop popcorn in our building due to it being against the fire code. Now, the truth…

Email from Blank to our Building Facilities Manager:

BFM,

Do you have any idea where we can pop popcorn in this building? Never heard the fire code problem before I came here; was hoping it was to do with the wattage on our microwave or something; does there happen to be one in this building on another floor that allows popcorn to be popped? Also is there a toaster anywhere?

Blank

Response:

Blank,

The real reason we do not pop popcorn in the building is due to the fact that we have had to evacuate the building too many times because people would put the popcorn in the microwaves unattended and the popcorn would burn and set off the fire alarms. It happened way too many times.

I might suggest that you pop your popcorn at home and bring it to work.

BFM

Oh my gato. I wish this were a joke. That’s the real response. Facilities took the time and effort to print up phony fire code signs on every floor of our 10-story building. And yet, they freely admit that the signs aren’t real, but still try to force us to follow the made-up popcorn law by encouraging us to pop popcorn at home.

I may have the exact same microwave at home, but any fires I start there don’t burden the Facilities Team with unnecessary work. Plus, who doesn’t love room temperature day-old Orville Redenbacher’s?

You might find it hard to believe that overmicrowaving popcorn to the point of setting off a fire alarm could happen once, let alone “way too many times”. If so, you’ve never worked in corporate America.

I can think of several people in my group who could pull it off. Our company might be capable of showing a profit if it weren’t staffed with people who not only lack the ability to accurately program a microwave, but also don’t have the attention span to sit through 3 minutes of popping.

I knew a guy in college who forced the evacuation of his entire dorm when he microwaved his feces for 15 minutes. And not even he is dumb enough to take a job in corporate America.
Meanwhile, popcorn continues to be sold in every vending machine, tempting my moronic co-workers to burn down our building.

Letter to Tom Cruise

Dear Tom Cruise,

When did it all go so horribly wrong?

Everyone used to love the fun loving, non-controversial, fighter pilot, lawyer, bartender, pimp, boxer, vampire, high school football star, pool hustler, Vietnam War vet, large animal vet, race care driver Tom. You may not have won any Oscars, but you should have…if only the Academy considered characters played off-screen. Throughout your glory years, you brilliantly played the heterosexual All-American movie star in public.

But then, inexplicably, you broke character. You stopped reading from the scripts your PR team created and started speaking for yourself. Whoops! When you took off the shiny wrapper no one liked what was underneath. It was like finding out who’s really behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz, a pathetic fraction of the man you thought you’d see.

You began your freefall off the sanity wagon by picking a fight with Matt Lauer about his lack of understanding of the history of psychiatry. You jumped all over Oprah’s nice furniture and declared your crazy love for 17 year-old Katie Holmes. You used Katie to attempt to prove that you could father a child, but wouldn’t let her talk during childbirth. You became such an expert on motherhood that you felt obligated to criticize Brooke Shields for taking medication for postpartum depression.

Your conduct not only cost your production company its deal with Paramount Pictures, but also earned you public criticism from the big boss, Viacom CEO Sumner Redstone. Next thing you know, you’re 35% public approval rating was lower than that of President Bush.

So, you panicked and let your PR team write you an apology to Brooke Shields. After the photo-op, Brooke publicly read from the script, “He…gave me a heartfelt apology. I was so impressed with how heartfelt he was.” Repairing your image with drug using mothers was that simple.
It kind of reminded me of your PR team’s attempts to shape public perception of you, Katie, and Suri. Not many people got to see little baby Suri (probably because newly published photos make the baby appear to be Asian) but those who did had very similar impressions that were somehow leaked to the press.

Leah Remini said, “She looks like Tom and Katie” and “Cruise and Holmes are just great parents. There wasn’t a second she was out of their arms except when I held her.” Compare those to Vanity Fair editor Jane Sarkin’s comments, “The baby is really a combination (of Tom and Katie). They are extremely hands on (parents)”.

When people leave your compound their eyes are glossed over and they all end up piling the same type of praise on you and your family. It’s like you’re a second rate magician/hypnotist who forgot to snap his fingers and wake them up at the end of the show. They say whatever you’ve programmed them to say.

That is awesome!

Please tell me how you do your trick. I need people to want to view me a lot and after viewing me, in a monotone voice say, “Matt is a Wonder with a beautiful moustache. He is not an Accountant. He is the voice of his generation. I have no idea why he is not on the Hollywood A-List”.

When we get together to talk about brainwashing my fans, I’d like to discuss “Mission Impossible 4″. It looks like it will not happen, unless the budget is drastically cut. You might have to do your own stunts. I don’t have any experience as a stunt coordinator, but I’d be happy to volunteer to pack your parachute.

Thanks,
Matt from 2HW

P.S. I just got the results back from 1-800-DNA-TYPE. I am the real father of Suri.

Fun Committee Update

Against my better judgment, I just opened an email with the subject “Fun committee”. After reading it, I proceeded to turn my left palm face up and repeatedly pounded my forehead with that palm, while saying things like “Why?” “Make it stop” and “What the hell is wrong with me that I ended up here?”

The email was from the fun committee chair (FCC), who works in Capital Asset Accounting. How could putting someone from CAA in charge of departmental fun possibly go wrong? Due to departmental common sense, she ran for Fun Chair unopposed. It took two full weeks for one other human to lose their mind and volunteer to join the committee, yet FCC’s email requested that two additional representatives be added to the committee…from each team.

A twelve-person team tasked with making work fun seems about right. I’m sure the volunteers from Gross-Margin Accounting and Accounts Payable Accounting Support will have some groundbreaking ideas in fun making. It’s almost enough to make me want to volunteer for the committee. The material gained from those meetings would be priceless. But, surely I wouldn’t be able to stay in character if FCC’s spoken word is as entertaining as her written word.
Here’s an unedited excerpt from the email, “The representatives will help come up with Idea’s and concepts for monthly events that will encourage camaraderie and fun. We need to have a little fun some times are we will all go nuts.”

Dear FCC,

Trust me when I tell you that you’re not going to want to bring your fun “Idea’s” and concepts anywhere near me, “are” I really am going to go nuts.

Thanks,
Matt from 2HW

The Office Convenience Store

I can already tell I’m going to need to find a Thesaurus that tells me different ways to say “Shoot me in the face”, because, that’s how I’m going to want to start every entry in this category. This place is so ridiculous. I just got the email below from a manager…

I don’t believe I passed on the first email from Blank, but Blank has a “mini” snack store in the file cabinet next to her cube. She has a variety of items for snack or lunch for sale. You are welcome to check it out.
Thanks,
Blank

Original email from the shopkeeper…
“(My store) now has swiss cake rolls, diet Dr. Pepper and granola bars. We’ve also restocked the nutty bars, diet Pepsi and Rice Krispee Treats.”

So, let me get this straight. Blank has set up a Kwiki Mart in her cube and not only has the blessing of upper management, but also is getting this manager to SPAM us with advertising that highlights new product offerings. I’m sure there aren’t any corporate codes of conduct being broken there. I’m guessing the agreements we have with our vending machine providers encourage this type of behavior.

Dear Blank,

I promise not to forward your email to HR as long as you promise to start serving Slushees.

Thanks,
Matt from 2HW