Our new, wickedly off-colour humour column features the views of the world’s worst manager, Slithershanks. Enjoy.
Slithershanks leaned forward on his uploaded, multi-platformed communications strategy and readjusted the synergies on his Facebook-centric memes. Things were looking a tad sticky.
“I think I made a verbal blunder, Dolly,” he told his colleague Riseranks, who was looking about as reassuring as a puff adder with indigestion.
“You are one long verbal blunder,” said Riseranks. “Actually just make that one long blunder,” she continued, warming to her task. “We don’t want to narrow this down.”
“No, seriously, Doll. When I was giving some performance feedback to the human capital slaves, I meant to say: ‘You could probably improve your timeliness somewhat,” but instead I said: ‘There are lumps of rock two thousand feet below the earth’s surface that are more responsive than you and it is about time we sent you down there to join them.” The human capital slaves seemed to find this overly aggressive.”
“Slithershanks, you have the empathy of Stalin, the humility of Jack Welch, the brevity of Kevin Rudd and the taste in running gear of Tony Abbott.”
“That’s a bit harsh, Doll.”
“Oh, sorry, Slither, I made one of those verbal blunders.”
“Well alright, then.”
“What I meant to say is that the English language has not yet invented words to describe how useless you are. However there were a few terms devised in certain ninth-century Mongolian dialects which may get somewhere towards the required meanings.”
“Hey, tone it down a bit.”
“I think the words were iukoyyyt and juttorip, from memory.”
“Another verbal blunder?”
“Another verbal blunder.”
