It's quite a good read. He talks about the top ten reasons on why managers are hated. (And also provides tips to help managers from committing them!)
I particularly like the following:
6. You never relax.
5. You micromanage.
4. You're a suck-up.
2. You're above getting your hands dirty.
Unfortunately, I think what Mike did here was enumerate the bad practices that otherwise "good" managers do (that of course, makes them bad.) In short, these are things that can be fixed with effort and a little attitude change.
I'm going to add other reasons why people hate their managers.
You have no idea what you're doing. Let's face the facts here. There are times when people are hired or promoted for the wrong reasons. This results to managers that are not only incompetent in "management" but are also incompetent everywhere else.
You don't acknowledge the fact that you don't know what you're doing. As it sounds, this is an offshoot of the earlier bullet point. You see, even the most ill-equipped moron can actually manage people. It is just necessary to admit you don't know, learn, and delegate.
And now for the advice section. If you happen to possess both of the points mentioned earlier, then, PLEASE STEP DOWN. The office space you're consuming is much more valuable than you are. Hell, you are wasting oxygen.
Every person has a dream job. That's the job Confucius was telling you to choose in his quote, "Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life."
For me, that's lying around all day and receiving lots and lots of money. Last time I checked Jobstreet (a few minutes ago), there are still no openings for that job. And I'm quite fine with that. So anyway, barring lottery chances and out of this world inheritances, I have come to accept the life of working every day till I die.
It can't be that bad. That is until your company hires one of those kid overachievers.
You'll know you have them when you first hear the lines, "I want a job I'm passionate about./ I want to help those in need./ I want to touch lives./ I have such fantastic goals because my parents already provided me with what I need to live."
Ok, you will rarely hear the last line. Except in your head where all the other lines are automatically translated to that.
As mentioned in an earlier post, some most of us work to satisfy the basic needs and some wants. Fulfillment is just another word. Wait I have to go. My passion for my work calls.
If you are one of the millions of cubicle drones who need a break from your monotonous tasks in the office, then you've come to the place. What exactly is The Office?
This is for adults only. By adults, we mean those who have responsibilities and one--a big one--of them happens to be holding a job. We've got bills to pay, dreams to pursue, places to go, gadgets to possess, and so on, so we need a source of income. For the larger part of the population (a.k.a people who were not gifted with a trust fund on their first birthday or those who have admitted to themselves that they cannot feed on dreams and ideas alone), having a stable job is one way to secure that your needs (and most of your wants) are satisfactorily met. This is not to say that we are limiting our scope to people who are employed by another entity. Whether you run your own business or just a quiet tenant in a cubicle farm, you have a job that you would like to keep.
This is therapy. And because we can't quit our jobs at the slightest annoyance at work, we find other venues to vent out our frustrations. Lousy working behavior is everywhere. How many have said that they've had enough of the lack of professionalism of their colleagues, only to discover that it would resurrect itself on the next job--only with uglier faces? We need to learn to adapt to the environment and know our enemies. Did you not learn that from Art of War/Who Moved My Cheese/Seven Habits/[Insert latest book that your boss handed to you for "self-development" but you've never really cracked open]?
This is universal. Ever wonder why almost of the non-fiction section of the bookstore is devoted to improving how you work? Bad attitudes at work are on the same vein as diets--they're constant problems that authors like to cash in but have never really solved. There will always be conflicts, difference of opinion, huge differences in skills and (heaven forbid) huge injustices when it comes to pay grade. Being human has predisposed us to make mistakes. Some make more--so much more--than others, and they inspired us to create this blog.
This is for FUN. If you're a self-confessed cubicle drone, you know what the scenario would be like--get annoyed at someone, seethe in anger, tell some (or many) close friends about it, get back to work. We'd like to spare you the Prozacs and the eventual intake of Lipitor. Go here to laugh, to share, to vent, and then move on and do the job that will bring you the moolah (experience would be more rewarding if you know the magic of the Alt-Tab). Just like a lot of things in life, don't take office heckles and hecklers so seriously. For all you know, you've been a subject of an office heckle, too.
This is NOT a source of legal advice. This website humors its audiences with made up and not-so-made up stories about bad experiences at work or with co-workers. Its purpose is to entertain readers, and therefore, should not be a source of legal advice. Consult a professional for real and serious help.
In the cubicle jungle, the word "help" is one of the most ill-defined, often misunderstood four-letter word. And this is contrary to the word "fuck," which is probably the greatest multiple-use-everybody-understands four-letter word in any environment imaginable.
So, back to the word help, Dictionary.com says:
–verb (used with object) 1. to give or provide what is necessary to accomplish a task or satisfy a need; contribute strength or means to; render assistance to; cooperate effectively with; aid; assist: He planned to help me with my work. Let me help you with those packages.
Now, in the context of "help" in the cubicle jungle, we have to stick to the parts where help means render assistance to; cooperate effectively with; assist. The operative word we're looking at is "assist" and this says that: HELPING DOES NOT MEAN YOU WILL DO THAT PERSON'S JOB.
Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here's a story.
(Names, places, events, and other stuff have been "vagued." However, feel free to assume that this is someone you know. We have enough reason to believe this shit happens everywhere.)
Big Boss person (BBP) asks a Small Employee person (SEP) for "help" in a "project." SEP then agrees to help, thinking the work will involve assisting and consulting, and basically just helping, not doing.
To spare you from the M. Night plot twist, we are going to summarize with, BBP already assumed that SEP will helm the project and do the work.
And, end of story.
Pop quiz, what the fuck was wrong with that story?
How can a BBP not understand the meaning of the word help? Does the word have a different Executive meaning?
Maybe it does. And this means you have to protect yourself from the word HELP at all times. Always remember, when a big boss person asks you for help, do not mention or even hint on saying yes. Go generic. Go vague. Remember BBP is being vague with the question anyway. Say something like:
Despite spending most of your time in a cubicle, drones have a few things going for them. There’s the first time you order a book that someone other than your parents pays for. If that’s not your thing, then there’s the first time you go enjoying activities at a beach on company dime. There are a host of great things; the first time you get a pay check, the first time you go get promoted, the first time you get tissue rations…
The first time you get WHAT??!
Yep, yep, that is correct. Tissue. The type you wipe your behind with, assuming you wipe. These things are rationed, apparently, meaning at some point, if your supply runs out, you’re going to have a really interesting conversation with an officemate about crap.
“Hey,” you’d say, “I need to go do take a dump, and I’ve already maxed out my crap supplies for the month, would you mind…”
And of course they would mind. I don’t know if this generally rings true, but when I do need to go, I kind of like tissue. Tissue is my friend. Tissue’s like a symbol of our collective genius to address humanity’s needs, except that it’s essentially a wad of tree you wipe your behind with. Assuming you wipe.
But the point is, tissue rocks. Your colleague will probably tell you to mind your own crap. “Hey,” he’d tell you, “Mind your own crap. I need to protect my stock, I’m having diarrhea.”
These are the kinds of quality things brought to light by tissue rations. Bowel movements of people who are not you, unique uses of recycled paper, all that crap. These things will reside somewhere in your hippocampus, where it will run on a loop, not allowing you to think about anything else.
”Diarrhea,” the part of your brain that allows you to make memories says. “Oh shove it,” you say to it, all the while knowing that sooner or later, the crap always wins.
First off, we love that show. Second off, we absolutely have nothing to do with it.
Let's face it, a huge part of the working population are cubicle drones. I am a proud cubicle drone. I have been less, a lot less. I have been a desk drone, a table drone, a drone with just a pencil.
As Ricky Gervais has shown, a lot of shitty things occur in the office. That's what made the show really funny. We would have made a show just like him. But being cubicle drones we obviously do not have the budget. So here's the next best thing. A blog of all the office shit we have experienced, we have made up, might happen, will happen, and everything in between.
Hey you, reading this. Chances are you are a cubicle drone, harmlessly surfing the web, while you wait until the clock hits 6pm. These are our stories. We know you have one too. Probably more than one. Join us. Let the world know.
