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Management is liken to a bunch of frat boys. They all talk in secret code. They hang out behind closed doors, laughing, joking, smelling of food that us peons will never get to taste, save when the unwanted scraps are pushed out onto carts costing more than your average car. They talk behind your back, scheming to keep you from having a weekend -- asking you to come in for some overtime while they have cook-outs with family and friends, maniacally chuckling at our misfortune. They watch us, monitoring every keystroke and pee-break. They pressure us, when deadline was yesterday, and make you feel guilty for getting a raise.

A normal conversation between management types would be like this:
Manager A: Did you see the new project [name]? Oh man, we're so behind schedule.
Manager B: Yes, I heard that release[undecipherable project name] will be so behind schedule.
Manager A:Oh yes, quite behind.
Manager B: (nods head) Yes, quite.
Manager A: (looks around suspuciously)yes.

Sometimes I wish I could just grab them by the scruff of their collective rubber necks and scream: Yeah, it's behind schedule because every other hour a different manager wants something totally unrelated to the previous request.

But it's okay, I take solace in the fact that above them is also another manager who'll poop on their heads.

....who wants to trade places with me? Raise your hand.... posted by losir at 1:28 PM