Micromanagement Sucks!
I don't know why, after all these years, I don't trust my instincts and my first impressions of people more than I do. Every time, every Single Fucking Time I give some person the benefit of the doubt I end up regretting it for some reason or another. I should just listen to my inner Judgemental Asshole because he is never wrong, historically.
But, I try to be a nice guy. To quote my all time favorite movie character, Jules Winnfield, I'm trying. I'm trying real hard to be the Shepherd. People talk to me and don't realize that, just like that scene in the movie, I've got a .45 pointed at their head, my finger on the trigger. I just don't pull that trigger more often than not. I'm trying.
One of my other favorite movie characters is Hannibal Lecter. No, it's not that I eat human flesh. It's that he was able to look into a person's soul and tell things about them that they would rather not face. I have that ability sometimes, though not to that extent. At the time the movie came out, my best friend thought it was so cool that Lecter talked a man into commiting suicide. Said it reminded him of me, with Lecter's piercing insights.
There is a fragment of truth there. I can have the piercing insights. I can also be totally clueless about people. Usually because I don't listen to my inner judgemental asshole. My dichotomy is that I can read people like a first-grade book and still be incredibly naive at times. The whole benefit of the doubt thing. Nice guy and all that.
Now, the older I get, the more I wonder... Why do I bother being nice to people that, deep inside, I know are going to give me grief?
There are a few people on that list, fer sure. One is the guy that is supervising the job I currently work on. I'll never forget, as long as I live, the first impression he made on me. He called the guys together and lectured us about how if we take extra time not working how it was costing our company money. He had it written down (He spent some time on this) and broken down how much money it cost our company for us to take an extra five, ten, or fifteen minutes on break or lunch or whatever over a week's period, a monthly period, and a yearly period. My immediate thought was, "Well, asshole, how much time did you just cost the company doing all that math? And then lecturing us? You, we, could have been doing something constructive. But we had to stand around, on the clock, while you talked to us like children." After that, he spent two fucking hours on a twenty minute trip and came back with the wrong shit anyway. Why didn't I trust my first impression?
This is the same guy that gave us all a Bible for Christmas in 2006. Little does he know that I have forgotten more about that book than he ever knew and could tie his theology in knots. One phrase I do remember, spoken by our Lord and Savior, was "Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You strain at a gnat and swallow a camel!" Fits this dude to a T. He is the man that mastered "milking the clock" when he was just another carpenter and now he is on our ass about time?!? He jumped me today because I rode to the lumber yard with my brother. "Is there any reason it took two of you to go to the lumberyard?" he asked.
My blood began to boil. Slowly. Maybe it just simmered. It reached a full boil as the day went on. I guess he would rather that I stand around with my thumb up my ass, waiting for material like the other five or six guys on the crew? Never mind the fact that I was actually saving the company a trip at a later date for something I needed for a different job. Except, as I later learned, they weren't standing around with their thumbs up their asses after all! They were, in fact, loading windows onto his trailer for him to take home for his personal use!
Now, salvaging materials from a job is no big deal. We either throw them away or take them for our own use. But here is the problem: This same man, the one that got on my ass this morning for riding to the lumber yard with my brother, has told me on more than one occasion to make sure that I gather the salvaged materials on my own time. I have made two trips up there, 45 miles each way on a Saturday, in fact. My time. I have no problem with that. But I ask you, exactly who is fucking the company out of time worked? And why did I give this asshole the benefit of the doubt?
I can make a prediction: This dickhead is going to say the wrong thing to me one day when I am not in a charitable mood. I'm going to pull that trigger.
Look, motherfucker, I'm a carpenter. I'm a man. I'm not a fucking teenaged fry cook at Whataburger. I don't need your hypocritical micro-managing shit and I won't put up with it much. I didn't notice you around this afternoon when we all worked through breaktime...
It's just a matter of time.
But, I try to be a nice guy. To quote my all time favorite movie character, Jules Winnfield, I'm trying. I'm trying real hard to be the Shepherd. People talk to me and don't realize that, just like that scene in the movie, I've got a .45 pointed at their head, my finger on the trigger. I just don't pull that trigger more often than not. I'm trying.
One of my other favorite movie characters is Hannibal Lecter. No, it's not that I eat human flesh. It's that he was able to look into a person's soul and tell things about them that they would rather not face. I have that ability sometimes, though not to that extent. At the time the movie came out, my best friend thought it was so cool that Lecter talked a man into commiting suicide. Said it reminded him of me, with Lecter's piercing insights.
There is a fragment of truth there. I can have the piercing insights. I can also be totally clueless about people. Usually because I don't listen to my inner judgemental asshole. My dichotomy is that I can read people like a first-grade book and still be incredibly naive at times. The whole benefit of the doubt thing. Nice guy and all that.
Now, the older I get, the more I wonder... Why do I bother being nice to people that, deep inside, I know are going to give me grief?
There are a few people on that list, fer sure. One is the guy that is supervising the job I currently work on. I'll never forget, as long as I live, the first impression he made on me. He called the guys together and lectured us about how if we take extra time not working how it was costing our company money. He had it written down (He spent some time on this) and broken down how much money it cost our company for us to take an extra five, ten, or fifteen minutes on break or lunch or whatever over a week's period, a monthly period, and a yearly period. My immediate thought was, "Well, asshole, how much time did you just cost the company doing all that math? And then lecturing us? You, we, could have been doing something constructive. But we had to stand around, on the clock, while you talked to us like children." After that, he spent two fucking hours on a twenty minute trip and came back with the wrong shit anyway. Why didn't I trust my first impression?
This is the same guy that gave us all a Bible for Christmas in 2006. Little does he know that I have forgotten more about that book than he ever knew and could tie his theology in knots. One phrase I do remember, spoken by our Lord and Savior, was "Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You strain at a gnat and swallow a camel!" Fits this dude to a T. He is the man that mastered "milking the clock" when he was just another carpenter and now he is on our ass about time?!? He jumped me today because I rode to the lumber yard with my brother. "Is there any reason it took two of you to go to the lumberyard?" he asked.
My blood began to boil. Slowly. Maybe it just simmered. It reached a full boil as the day went on. I guess he would rather that I stand around with my thumb up my ass, waiting for material like the other five or six guys on the crew? Never mind the fact that I was actually saving the company a trip at a later date for something I needed for a different job. Except, as I later learned, they weren't standing around with their thumbs up their asses after all! They were, in fact, loading windows onto his trailer for him to take home for his personal use!
Now, salvaging materials from a job is no big deal. We either throw them away or take them for our own use. But here is the problem: This same man, the one that got on my ass this morning for riding to the lumber yard with my brother, has told me on more than one occasion to make sure that I gather the salvaged materials on my own time. I have made two trips up there, 45 miles each way on a Saturday, in fact. My time. I have no problem with that. But I ask you, exactly who is fucking the company out of time worked? And why did I give this asshole the benefit of the doubt?
I can make a prediction: This dickhead is going to say the wrong thing to me one day when I am not in a charitable mood. I'm going to pull that trigger.
Look, motherfucker, I'm a carpenter. I'm a man. I'm not a fucking teenaged fry cook at Whataburger. I don't need your hypocritical micro-managing shit and I won't put up with it much. I didn't notice you around this afternoon when we all worked through breaktime...
It's just a matter of time.
posted by David Burrow at 6:39 PM
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