I, Running Dog

The worst epithet that could be hurled back in the day was that someone was a "Running Dog Capitalist" or the "Running Dog" of capitalism. It meant that you were capable of anything, as long as it proffited you, personally. It was similar, but not exactly the same as being called someone's lap dog.
Which brings up Alexander Pope's famous doggerel on a dog collar:

"I am my Highness' dog at Kew,
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?"

As of yesterday, I became the running dog of the division's Vice President. Yesterday, I was ordered to send out a department-wide call for volunteers to do a day of hard labor out in the fields (literally) for Hands on Miami Day.

Last year, I was happy to coordinate the effort, and put my all into it, and got about a 30% participation, not bad for a corporate culture of non-volunteerism.

This year, I stormed into the PHB's office and told him that after the shit that has been heaped on us over the past few months, the contemptible way we have been treated, and the way we are all in God's Waiting Room (job-wise) that this had to be the most morally reprehensible act I'd ever been asked to commit in the line of professional duty. He got all snotty back at me and said he'd send out the call. And I should tell him how to find the information about Hands on Miami.

To which I replied, "Fine. Just. Fucking. Fine. I'll do it, but, I. AM. NOT. PLEASED." All the while thinking, how do you find information on the web? You? The fucking manager of web services, the lord and master of all things web in this hospital? You? Well, I wouldn't think of opening Google and typing "Hands On Miami" into the search box, or anything. No. YOU will find information by ordering me to look for it and write you a report in single syllable words, and then read it to you, out loud, explaining what I mean every step of the fucking way. You moron.

And by the way, as of Monday? There will be no layoffs in this department, after all. Some small, very small, number of reassignments. But why lay some people off when you can outsource an entire department in one fell swoop?

And on another topic altogether, if you've read this far:

What the fuck is up with the Boston Red Sox? Don't they know there's a fucking curse on all their houses? Don't they know that the world will end if they win the World Series?

Dogs and cats together.

Bite me.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 10/27 at 01:00 PM in Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 10/27 at 01:00 PM in Sports


(3) Comments
#1. Posted by RJ on October 27, 2004

Hey! Hey!  Watch how you talk about MY BoSox there, Lady!  Curse, my ass!  Fate! Kismet! Full moon!  Lucky Stars (even with the damn leprechauns and marshmallows!)!!!

Don’t get me started…...

#2. Posted by RJ on October 28, 2004

P.S.:  The world looks pretty good to me, this morning!  YAY, SOX!

#3. Posted by Miz Shoes on October 28, 2004

Yeah. Fine. What ever. Obnoxious in Victory. My kind of girl.

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