What the Rich Think About the Poor

It Strikes Me as Odd — A Fable

Wikimedia Commons

Once upon a time in a place called Nowhere during the era of Ubiquity there were two women having tea and scones in an elegant and dainty café.

“It strikes me as odd that the color of money is green,” Aye Whole said as she put a piece of scone in her mouth.

“I think it would be much prettier if it were rainbow-colored don’t you?” said her friend Fallow Weir.

“No. As someone who has a lot of money, I can without a doubt say that money would be much more pleasantly held in my hand if it were a different color. Say the color of gold for the rich and brown for the poor.”

“Why brown for the poor?” Fallow asked stirring her tea.

“Because brown is the color of excrement,” replied Aye. “And everything the poor touches turns into excrement. And it should be gold for the rich because we have the

What the Rich Think About the Poor

It Strikes Me as Odd — A Fable

Wikimedia Commons

Once upon a time in a place called Nowhere during the era of Ubiquity there were two women having tea and scones in an elegant and dainty café.

“It strikes me as odd that the color of money is green,” Aye Whole said as she put a piece of scone in her mouth.

“I think it would be much prettier if it were rainbow-colored don’t you?” said her friend Fallow Weir.

“No. As someone who has a lot of money, I can without a doubt say that money would be much more pleasantly held in my hand if it were a different color. Say the color of gold for the rich and brown for the poor.”

“Why brown for the poor?” Fallow asked stirring her tea.

“Because brown is the color of excrement,” replied Aye. “And everything the poor touches turns into excrement. And it should be gold for the rich because we have the

What the Rich Think About the Poor

It Strikes Me as Odd — A Fable

Wikimedia Commons

Once upon a time in a place called Nowhere during the era of Ubiquity there were two women having tea and scones in an elegant and dainty café.

“It strikes me as odd that the color of money is green,” Aye Whole said as she put a piece of scone in her mouth.

“I think it would be much prettier if it were rainbow-colored don’t you?” said her friend Fallow Weir.

“No. As someone who has a lot of money, I can without a doubt say that money would be much more pleasantly held in my hand if it were a different color. Say the color of gold for the rich and brown for the poor.”

“Why brown for the poor?” Fallow asked stirring her tea.

“Because brown is the color of excrement,” replied Aye. “And everything the poor touches turns into excrement. And it should be gold for the rich because we have the

Boss From Hell and the Bobblehead

In today’s economy when jobs are as scarce as hair on a bald man’s head, it is of vital importance not to piss of your BFH (Boss From Hell). Now, one can objectively argue that an employee should speak his or her mind during a meeting when they think the boss is wrong or misguided because doing so promotes an open discussion in finding a workable solution to the problem at hand.

If one were working for a reasonable person devoid of vanity, insecurity, insanity and other negative “itys” the BFH might have, that claim would be true. But in my world where the “ity” filled BFH can evoke the powers of Satan against you, that is not the case. I’m being nebulous about the situation because I’m trying to protect the innocent (ME).

So, I kept quiet and nodded my head (like a bobblehead because that’s what BFH wanted) and after the meeting I spoke to the BFH in private and tried to loosely employ the Socratic method of discourse. I asked questions such as:

In proceeding with your ordered strategy, could we explore its implications to our existing clients?

Could we take another look at “the decision” (notice how I did not say the BFH’s decision because that can be construed as a direct attack) and see how we can tweak it to further maximize our benefits?

Could we explore other possibilities to make this more cost-effective? 

I said the above and more when what I really wanted to say was: “You made a crappy decision. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing. You should be cleaning offices instead of running it.”

BFH agreed to reconsider the matter. I don’t think BFH was angry. I didn’t see Satan lurking in the hallways. Hell, I hate office politics. Where’s my orgasmic food?

Bobbleheadingly yours,

Lafemmeroar