Inducting My Boss into The Hall of Blame
Please put your hands together for the man behind the reason I suck at life.
The Hall of Blame is a not so exclusive club of people I blame for absolutely everything that goes wrong in my life. As it stands, there are over 36,000 inductees ranging from my roommate to the Toyota Camry that cut me off at the light just moments ago. Unlike the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, The Hall of Blame does not have a 25-year waiting period before someone is eligible to join.
My father became the first inductee on June 18, 1989, the day I was born. I do not recall the specific achievement that crowned him inductee #1, but the subsequent 34 years have been a testament to his lifetime achievement in the field of ruining my life. In fact, my father is one of two members who have been inducted twice, his second time coming in 1999 when I was unable to make my high school soccer team because he refused to buy me a pair of $300 boots worn by Brazilian star, Ronaldo. The other two-time inductee is my bed, once for being too comfortable, hence making me late for work every morning, and a second time for being the sole reason a girlfriend broke up with me in 2014 (the mattress was too firm for her).
In the last week alone, seventeen people and things have entered The Hall of Blame. Among them, a guy at work whose Facebook post got more likes than mine, leading me to start drinking again, and a pebble that got caught in my shoe that stopped me from taking a cycle class at the gym.
While the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame has a formal ceremony where nominees are given a trophy and invited on stage to give a speech, recipients of The Hall of Blame are not invited anywhere. I alone give a speech to introduce them and they are not informed of the event or notified about the recognition. A key similarity between the two award shows are the formal attire and mass consumption of alcohol slash drug fuelled afterparties.
Tonight is a special ceremony, for tonight I induct one of the most acclaimed reasons I am not as successful as I should be. Please be standing as I induct my boss into The Hall of Blame.
I’ve known Steve Chandos for five years. To say he’s had a negative impact on my life is perhaps as big an understatement as his car is an overstatement. He drives a sports car. Jerk.
He’s been a massive influence on not just my work, but my life. Not giving me that promotion last month, or that sales bonus, means I’m barely able to make rent on a monthly basis. Without a shadow of a doubt, Steve is the main reason I am single.
Yes, Steve is a rare breed. A rare breed of imbecile. Outside of being the jerkiest of jerks, Steve once pointed out in a meeting that I had misspelt a word in my presentation PDF, which I’m sure played a part in me losing the keys to my apartment a week later and forgetting to water my plants. One thing’s for sure, if it wasn’t for Steve, I wouldn’t be standing here today giving a speech about him from my mother’s house. Truthfully, if it weren’t for Steve, I’d probably own my own home, be running the company and have a ripped body right now.
So please, put your hands together for the reason my life is in ruins, the man to blame for why my friends don’t call me back and why I can’t do more than six pushups. Give it up for the newest Hall of Blamer. Ladies and gentlemen — my boss — Steve Chandos.
