Quite a few humans seem to be disgruntled with their jobs. I‘ve recently heard complaints from Sassy Little Kara, Moping Lord Milky and even some of the overpaid cokeheads who come on safari. It makes me thankful for my own career as a circus performer. Entertaining an audience has its pressures, but at least your fate is in your hands. As long as the crowds keep cheering, you don’t have to bother with buttering up the boss or humouring your workmates.
I could do pretty much as I pleased in my off time. I snoozed in my trailer when celebrities came to visit and farted loudly at staff meetings. I flirted with the ringmaster’s wife and conspired with her in intrigues against her philandering husband. I goofed around during rehearsals, pulling off the clowns’ wigs and stuffing them down their baggy trousers. And if the ringmaster ever raised his voice to me, I would cordially invite him to pucker his lips and smooch my big hairy butt – or words to that effect.
So what is a good boss? One who can separate the trivial from the important. If I were in charge of humans working in an office, I’d tell them precisely what they had to do for their payslip at the end of the month. As long as they managed it, I wouldn’t worry about them coming to work dressed as Batman, or discussing the latest vice from Amsterdam, or using sex toys in the office toilets. Caesar said his soldiers fought just as well when stinking of perfume. But if they failed to give satisfaction without good cause, I would not hesitate to bestow the Order of the Boot.
“What of sexual harassment in the workplace?” I hear you ask. “What of it?” I reply. These problems arise from poor communication. I would ask each member of staff to submit a confidential list of workmates whom they fancied. I would then privately inform each employee which of their co-workers they were allowed to grope. Mutual fanciers would obviously be given carte-blanche to molest each other. Problem solved.
Insecure human bosses don’t realise that imposing pointless rules doesn’t earn you respect. Nor does playing the court jester like that donkey David Brent. Your underlings must know that without your guidance they’d be floundering like seal pups before the cull. As well as being superb at your own job, you’ve got to make them aware that you’d be better at their jobs as well. Once in a while, the shrewd manager comes out of his cubicle and fills in for one of his minions, flaunting his superior admin skills and flashing his stylish accoutrements.
The one thing a team leader can never tolerate is treachery behind his back. I once left a young gorilla in charge of my band when I was away on a cruise. When I got back, I found that the coconut stash had disappeared and two females were pregnant. I chased that hairy rascal right out of the jungle. He would have starved if he hadn’t found some ostrich eggs, which he managed to steal at the cost of having his arse hairs pecked out. On returning to the forest, he wisely never showed his ugly face near my patch again. I celebrated my rout of the interloper with a gala chest-thumping party. An ape does good business when he rids himself of a turd.
I could do pretty much as I pleased in my off time. I snoozed in my trailer when celebrities came to visit and farted loudly at staff meetings. I flirted with the ringmaster’s wife and conspired with her in intrigues against her philandering husband. I goofed around during rehearsals, pulling off the clowns’ wigs and stuffing them down their baggy trousers. And if the ringmaster ever raised his voice to me, I would cordially invite him to pucker his lips and smooch my big hairy butt – or words to that effect.
So what is a good boss? One who can separate the trivial from the important. If I were in charge of humans working in an office, I’d tell them precisely what they had to do for their payslip at the end of the month. As long as they managed it, I wouldn’t worry about them coming to work dressed as Batman, or discussing the latest vice from Amsterdam, or using sex toys in the office toilets. Caesar said his soldiers fought just as well when stinking of perfume. But if they failed to give satisfaction without good cause, I would not hesitate to bestow the Order of the Boot.
“What of sexual harassment in the workplace?” I hear you ask. “What of it?” I reply. These problems arise from poor communication. I would ask each member of staff to submit a confidential list of workmates whom they fancied. I would then privately inform each employee which of their co-workers they were allowed to grope. Mutual fanciers would obviously be given carte-blanche to molest each other. Problem solved.
Insecure human bosses don’t realise that imposing pointless rules doesn’t earn you respect. Nor does playing the court jester like that donkey David Brent. Your underlings must know that without your guidance they’d be floundering like seal pups before the cull. As well as being superb at your own job, you’ve got to make them aware that you’d be better at their jobs as well. Once in a while, the shrewd manager comes out of his cubicle and fills in for one of his minions, flaunting his superior admin skills and flashing his stylish accoutrements.
The one thing a team leader can never tolerate is treachery behind his back. I once left a young gorilla in charge of my band when I was away on a cruise. When I got back, I found that the coconut stash had disappeared and two females were pregnant. I chased that hairy rascal right out of the jungle. He would have starved if he hadn’t found some ostrich eggs, which he managed to steal at the cost of having his arse hairs pecked out. On returning to the forest, he wisely never showed his ugly face near my patch again. I celebrated my rout of the interloper with a gala chest-thumping party. An ape does good business when he rids himself of a turd.
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Caesar /
David Brent
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