Help Desk: Middle Management

Thank you for calling the Help Desk. How may we be of survival? Oh really? Your boss is giving you crap and you're calling me to help you? Well, let me tell you something about middle management!


You're getting your work done. Everything is going fine. You are meeting quota. Nothing more, nothing less. The phone rings and it's guess who, your boss.

Almost in zombic pentameter you slave to perfect rhythm for these people and what do they give you? A bucket of their brains because they feel you should know that they will never be happy with you or the work you do. No matter how big you smile. No matter how hard the trial. We are defiled by the thoughts they bring.

The other day down in Lab C, which is the containment and processing lab for blood samples etc, think CSI but for Zombies. We were watching Jordan take care of some samples recently acquired from Eastern Europe. Obviously nothing is showing positive for the strain we're looking for. It’s probably just another twitching corpse.

Well, my boss leans over and whispers, "What do you think of Jordan's hair?" I'm like what the--it's longer than most but whatever nothing unusual--are you kidding me. Of course this is all in my head, but I tell my boss nonchalant ya know, it’s cool, a bit trendy. He snaps back at me "well, I don't like it. He should cut it and what are you talking about? It's not trendy. Short hair is trendy. Like mine." My boss storms off to Lab B, quarantine, leaving me confused as hell.

We only have two labs here; B and C. Technically, we had three, but we converted Lab A into reception, where the lovely Miss Sarah takes care of the front desk. She has nice legs. But, uh, Lab B is for quarantine of unusual substances that may pertain to re-animation and the undead etc. We have a few muscle spastic squirrels, a couple of plants, strange algae, and then an opossum my boss says reanimated in front of his car.

He supposedly hit the opossum on the way in a few weeks ago. Of course the animal is the lively of the lot. And it’s not dead, or undead, but my boss swears on his own grave that the opossum came back! Whatever, it’s an opossum, they play dead. We even named it Charlie because he loves to sit on top of the mountain of documents on Jordan's desk.

My boss. I hate the guy. He set me up with that horrible loaded question, "how's Jordan's hair?" blah blah whatever. I just hope they eat his brains. While he's at home and not at work.


Thank you for calling the Help Desk. Your current IBZT checks out as Blue! This is a good thing, don't worry folks! Be sure to check back regularly for your free IBZT results. It has been a pleasure helping you survive.