You may have already deduced, from the lack of new rules or clarifications on old, completely obvious rules, that management is sort of done with this shit. You clearly do not care. I suspect you cannot even read. You are like that dude from Gone with the Wind and my rules are like whatever it is that he didn’t give a damn about. (Management never saw that movie and is, in fact, not even sure that it was a dude that said that. Doesn’t matter. You give no damns and you’re not even polite about it.)
So from this point on, Management is done trying to control you via written memos. Management acknowledges that this may have been a poor plan from the start, given that you are currently sitting at the kitchen table, covered in peanut butter and yelling “poop poop poop poop poop!” So much for rising to meet the challenge.
From now own, Management is changing her tune. Management will return to her soapbox, but this time, it is with rules for fellow Management. How to run a place full of poo flinging monkeys like you. Advice may include:
- How to work more wine into your day without getting arrested/fired/shunned.
- How to pretend to care about trains/dinosaurs/sportsball/superheroes without crushing any little feelings.
- How to outsource the most disgusting parts of your job, preferably to the people who make them disgusting in the first place.
So, dear fellow House Management, stay tuned. We are going to get through this together. You, me, this box of wine, and this couch.