THE SALSA DIARIES #8
Board Level is Where the Fun Begins
When you reach my level of Dicktatorial Executive Directionless, it’s easy to coast by with impunity. I can jolly along within the system as some white-bread, excitable do-gooder, creams themselves wanting to make a big splash by offering to take on all the hard labor. It’s moments like that, covered head to toe in puppy-pleasing jizzcrement that makes my job so satisfying.
Board appointee is next level. It’s here that true loafing can commence. As a member of several boards erected to tent-pole adulation, I can attest to the fact that nobody really knows what goes on within the confines of this secret club. Meeting notes are faked. Lunches are bloated. Proposals are endorsed as part of some dick-swelling competition. And there’s always one man whose ego takes rampant ownership of all the dog-work as he seeks total control. He’s usually the new boy keen to make an impression until he realizes that nobody else gives a fuck and he’s slaving away preaching to himself.
It’s not a well-known fact at pleeb level, but a company generally runs itself. It takes a huge amount of dicking around to sink a large corporation. You have to be a complete incompetent arsehole to embezzle funds or get caught fannying around with a female employee ready to grab your balls in a class action cock grab.
‘The worm that turns last eats the best arse’ is a mantra for all occasions. It’s why I often make non-sensical demands to my fellow board members who can’t refuse every executive order I propose.
My latest commandment registered an eight on the exotic level of craze. It was fun watching Joan’s face when she informed me my package had arrived. There, in the lobby, shitting a storm all over the suede shag, was Henry, our very first adopted hippo. This aggressive, pubescent pup will become an intern’s worst nightmare as they struggle to keep the beast alive on nothing more than pop-tarts and jellied eels. Life is a series of moments filled with insane hardship and the sooner they learn this, the more prepared for life in advertising they’ll be.
It’s what we on the board call ‘obfuscating the fuck out of sight’. An old magician's trick that allows us to do very little while everybody is distracted. It’s why an office needs a Fussball table, lip-synching happy-hours, free snacks, and pints of ice-cream.
Now stop wasting time and get back to scooping that poop.