Stereotypes: The Principle Operating Officer.

There’s one person that the buck stops with, is responsible for the muck ups you and I make and who, at every moment side steps responsibility. It’s The Boss.

Now, I’ve been in the leather chair and it’s lonely at the top. Good management books will tell you that you should disassociate yourself with the staff that you run. In reality you need not do this your self as those who were once your muckers and critics of “the idiot in the leather chair” now spend their time criticising you.

A day in the life of a POO goes something like this:

Living by the tenet IKWIWWISI (I know what I want when I see it – a foolproof and irritating mantra of a clueless boss) they will spend their time chasing the BHAG (Big, Hairy Arsed Goal. A bold and difficult objective that must nevertheless be undertaken). To them the BMWs are not the ultimate driving machine, but the staff (Bitchers, Moaners and Whiners, without which no workplace would be complete). Unfortunately, this can’t be done V2V (Voice-to-Voice, or speaking on the phone if you like) this has to be done face to face, and tends to be like Kicking a dead whale down a beach (Unpleasant arduous work).

The POO, or otherwise known as the Corridor Curuiser (So prevalent is the meeting culture that a class of office drone has developed that spends it’s time shuttling between never ending management pw-wows. Hand held devices such as the obligatory Blackberry are specifically targeted to that they can keep in touch while on the move) spends much of his time doing the Muppet Shuffle (Rearrangement of awkward and useless members of staff) and dealing with Picnics (Problem in Chair Not in Computer. IT Speak for idiot).

An unscheduled walkabout by the POO will send the BMWs into a frenzy of Dog Whistle Politics (The type of speech which uses coded language that can only be understood by the group at which is targeted i.e. not the POO ). Their hope is that their Bandwidth (A now largely redundant internet buzz word, retooled as a substitute for a person’s capacity to work. Questions regarding one’s bandwidth signify imminent dumping of tasks in your vicinity) wont’ be questioned.

Other than the BMW, a POO has to deal with several other co-workers. There’s the ipods (Insecure, pressurised, over-taxed and debt ridden. An acronym coined to describe 18030-yea-olds saddled with debt and unable to gain a foothold on the property ladder), Dumpies (Destitute, unprepared, middle-aged professionals. The people who opted out of the company profit share scheme but forgot to opt into something else), Open-collar workers (those who work form home. The idea that most even wear a shirt with any type of collar is laughable) and Title-creeps (those who use the tactics of overemphasising the importance of their position through the ridiculous inflation of their job title).

But in the main the POO is one of us, albeit older. They go through the Menoporsche (The male mid life crisis which may lead to the purchase of an unnecessary and impractical sports car), try to ingratiate themselves with junior members of staff by pretending to be an Omega Male (Inevitably the opposite of alpha males, who revel in the incompetence and always defer to their dominant female partner) and suffer form Nanostalgia (Reminisance from the too-recent past i.e. anything post-2000).


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