“With great power comes great responsibility.” Very true. However, with great power comes great urges to wield great power. Sometimes those urges are overwhelming. Sometimes… just sometimes… with great power, comes soiled undies.
It’s been weird having a degree of authority over people who I used to work with. Just a few months ago we were equals, collectively bitching and moaning about the mindless babblings of management and questioning their illogical projects. Solidarity was born through mutual misery. Suddenly, though, I am the man. I am management. Nothing really has changed with me or my personality, but currently there is a necessary degree of separation between the other employees and myself. This makes me uncomfortable. I haven’t changed, per se, but the situation has. Now, being friendly with your employees (which I guess they are now) is not always a good idea, especially if you have to eventually fire them, discipline them, etc.
Eh. I have an awful taste in my mouth. I’M A MONSTER! (Arrested Development… anybody?) But at the same time, I know that I can learn from my boss’s past mistakes (namely, insensitivity). I’ll just have to keep on truckin’ and do the best I can.
But hell, when I go to Paris in a few weeks, my job, as told to me by the owner, is to basically begin the Great Tour Guide Purge 2K8. I am to go in as the outsider, access and analyze the current tour-guides and then take necessary actions (you know what that means). I don’t have a relationship with any of them so I guess this is the best way for a company to fire people. The owner actually suggested that I read Machiavelli’s “The Prince” as a guide. Holy crap.
Basically, according to our Italian Renaissance friend, I should go in there as an asshole, fire people, burn them at the stake, pillage and chop off some heads, then ease up, grant amnesties and relax my iron-fisted grip. The piss-ants will think me magnanimous and worthy.
The alternative is to be the nice guy at first, making friends with the piss-ants, then possibly fire some… subsequently being viewed as an asshole. I don’t know about you, but I want to get the asshole taste over with as soon as possible. I don’t want a lingering taste of asshole (Note to Father: Don’t read this post to grandma).
“How many assholes do we have on this ship anyhow?” “Keep firing asshole!”
So I saw a nun on the train today. She cut all the zippers off her backpack. I guess nuns don’t care for advertising.