10 Types of Corporate Idiots in Every Organization

By Tresckow

All offices, be they government, association, or public have one thing in common. In fact, it actually may be the natural order of things. We, as mere mortals, dare not try to understand it. It just IS. We, at the FWTC, call it Corporate Personality Disorder or CPD.

What is CPD, you ask? It’s sort of a self-imposed caste system. Instead of being enforced on a social level, like in India, the corporate castes are segmented into the different subcategories of CPD, each defined by the individual employee’s personality dysfunction or “batshit crazy” behavior.

Where the fuck is my hole punch!
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Just for the record, our theory of CPD is in no way connected to this dude’s definition. His deals with corporations, as a whole, fucking over the earth or beating baby seals with rubber hoses filled with lead shot or some shit. But, to be safe, we’ll change OUR theory’s name to Corporate Batshit Insane Personality Disorder (CBIPD– Happy now, legal department?).

Sorry, dude. The term isn’t copyrighted. Boo-yah!

At any given moment in time we are surrounded by idiots, wannabes, brown nosers, and the clinically douchey. In order to make your work life easier we decided to categorize the 10 most common business fucktards likely to drive you out of your cotton pickin’ mind. If you happen to fit any of these categories, seek help before one of your co-workers embeds a tape dispenser in your poop chute.

1: Corporate Seat Filler

If you’ve ever watched the shit parade of television award shows, you no doubt know what a “seat filler” is. If you haven’t, (God, how I envy you) a seat filler is some dipshit who is charged with putting his ass in an empty seat to make the show look packed. So, when John Voight gets up to take a dump or Paris Hilton steps out to freshen her STDs, it’s the seat filler’s job to keep the cushion warm.

Offices have the same thing. Alright, there aren’t dozens of people running around the building, hopping into empty chairs. But, there are brainless suckos who are hired to essentially take up space.

Ever wonder to yourself “What the hell does he/she friggin do here?” My friend, that inert piece of flotsam is a corporate seat filler. They’re labeled with titles such as “personal assistant” or “senior administrative specialist to the executive Reich Minister,” but, when it comes down to it, these asshats just make coffee, tie up their office phone with personal calls, and rummage through the office fridge stealing food. Considering this stockpile of uselessness, somehow, these craptastic human paperweights seem to dodge the annual company lay offs. Why? We can’t have our executives making their own flight arrangements and wiping their own asses can we?

Where the hell is my assistant? I need the squeegee and the company priest here, STAT!

2: Wishy-Washy Yes-Man/The corporate windsock

This decision making abortion can’t, under any circumstances, commit without knowing which way the wind’s blowing. Your ass is constantly on the line, desperately clinging to the modicum of useful information that can be decoded from this bunghole’s blabbering. It’s like speaking to Robin Williams.

Somehow you were able to translate the illogical, contradicting bullshit flowing out of his mouth and skipper a project/contract/account/human sacrifice that will take your company into the next decade. Awesome! A round of beer on FWTC. That is after we find that gold mine we really believe is somewhere along the Teton River. We’re good for it man.

Nevermind [insert the Price is Right loser sound here]. We’re not going to buy a round. Your boss’ boss just came out of her panic room. You’ve done what you could with what Mushmouth words fell out of your boss’ mouth. But. like a kick in the balls with an iron boot, your boss’ boss decides to pretend to be relevant and completely dick with your hard work. We should go in a different direction with this. Look at this as an exercise. Without missing a beat, your boss suddenly becomes sentient and is doing a kick ass impression of Dr. Goebbels doting over Hitler. His pie hole openeth and spews “That’s exactly what I was thinking. That’s such a great idea, boss. We’ll get him on this in no time and trash this project!” Fuck you!

A fucking exercise? You have got to be shitting me! It sure as shit felt like a mind numbing, soul crushing, 60 hour work weeks for two months God almighty for-friggin-real deal . Times like these, I like to ask that age old question, what would Jesus do?

Hell, yeah! Looks like a shopping spree at Home Depot and Gun World tonight!

3: Decision Clairvoyant

Ever get the impression in a meeting that you’re there purely for decoration. To be just another nodding head to the Pandora’s box of, yet another, corporate logic raping? Well, you are.

Take a look around. Who called this meeting? Whose agenda is this. Ah, shit, buckle up, it’s time for a corporate enema. The “leader” of this sorry group asks questions, solicits advice, but at every turn, reasserts him/herself as the master of their domain. Calling a meeting was pointless, for the outcome was foreseen! How? Who could have such powers? The Decision Clairvoyant, of course!

This turbo bitch knows exactly how these meetings will end; by having her mind made up before the damn thing takes place. She gazed into her crystal ball five minutes before the other drones stumbled into the conference room. Or, just simply uses the meetings to make a power play and show off her “IRON WILL!”

You: “Maybe we shouldn’t drown puppies at our next convention.”

DC: “NO!” We WILL drown puppies at the next event. We’ll be the biggest and best puppy drowners of all time! You want to be a team player, don’t you? ”

This pisses me off enough to make me vomit out of anger. Truthfully, I don’t have the adequate volume of the bile and stomach contents it would take to puke a rage this big.

Sorry,my barf bag friend. I just don't have it in me.


4: Super Businessman

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, wait. It’s just some douche that will fix everything with business jargon and fashionable cliches.Every meeting is the same with this caped crusader. The first 20 minutes are submerged in phrases like, “Maximize the paradigm!” or, “Realign the the alignment to meet the demographic shift in the cross functional matrix!” Everyone has the same look, but no one ever blurts out “What the fuck are you talking about?” But, really, that’s YOUR problem. SUPER BUSINESSMAN need not translate. YOU must delete all words and phrases in your head before the arrival of SUPER BUSINESSMAN and learn the blessed tongue.

Who cares if half the shit he’s saying doesn’t apply to your particular industry or company. Shipping beef is a lot different than shipping paperclips. An executive who spent fifteen years in the marble business probably won’t make the best executive for the seafood industry. “What? You mean the trucks have to be refrigerated? Never had to do what with marbles.” I’m betting that customers won’t contract a foodborne illness and shit themselves to death if they get a “bad” Aggie.

When it comes down to it, SUPER BUSINESSMAN wows the senior management with his fashionable business speak/bullshit. They just won’t worry about all that…other detail. No! SUPER BUSINESSMAN will force that square peg into a round hole. It will fit damn it! I will be your golden idol! You will all bask in my brilliance!

Now if I could only remember how that idol worshiping thing turned out in the Bible.
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5: Grandmaster Save-a-buck

Everyone has to make a budget at some point, right? Every payday you need to know exactly how much you have to spend on food and how much you can spend on lap dances. This usually happens in most businesses (yes, the lap dances).

Surely companies have made sensible financial cuts. Sorry, sir, no roof top hot tub, we had to make cutbacks. No Ma’am, we didn’t slaughter dozens of the finest rabbits so that we may reupholster your board meeting throne. Oh, sorry Mister President CEO, you may need to think hard on that company Mercedes this year. Just a suggestion, but we have to make a choice between continuing to lease you the company car or calling a team to figure out how all those Ewoks got into the server room. They’re everywhere. You have no idea!

We have no fucking idea how they got in, but now they won’t leave. They’re fashioning weapons from faulty hard drives and leftover copper wiring.
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But, when the fat has been trimmed and you’re cutting into the bone, there’s a problem.

It’s an emergency! Stock is down, product isn’t selling, the Feds are onto the company’s slave trading, whatever. Bottom line is the company has to better its bottom line. This is where Grandmaster Save-a-buck comes into play with his ham fisted hold on dipshit economics.

It starts off reasonably, at first. Then, all of a sudden, the game changes. It’s no longer just about cutting the redundant expenses. Now it’s about cutting EVERYTHING, including basic essentials needed to meet Geneva Convention regulations. Whoa there! You can reuse those coffee grounds. Toilet paper? To save we’ve switched to the sub-economy brand. Requisitioning an order for a new light bulb? What are we made of money? Candles are 5 for 5 at the drugstore. That’s a good thing, because the thermostat is now set to 40 degrees in the winter. Warm yourself up, Bob Cratchit style.

“Don’t speak to me about coal, Mr. Cratchit!
When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend’s face, you’ll know what to do.”
[We may have mixed up George C. Scott’s roles for this one]
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6: Captain Condescension

As children we all needed adults to set our dumbasses straight. Sure, we all need pointers and advice as we join the adult world. However, it should be done on the understanding that we’re older than five and have mastered the art of wiping our own ass.

Cue Captain Condescension. This bag of ass sweat is always on the case as long as the case involves making you feel and look like a total asshole. Mere corrections are not enough for this butt munch. Oh no, he has to hammer the point in until the nail comes out the other side. This is past the point of making friendly suggestions or corrections. He doesn’t mean well. His words didn’t accidentially come out with an unintended tone of dickishness. This is deep inside jackass territory.

Be it for ego’s sake or because daddy didn’t love him enough as a child, the Captain NEEDS to point out how brilliant he is and how friggin clueless his coworkers are. This isn’t mere sarcasm (of which I am an artist) this is insecure pissing contest crap. Guess what, Captain. Half of your coworkers are plotting for you to have an unfortunate run in with the business end of a mail cart.

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7: Half-assed Micromanager


This insecure ass face is an distrusting control freak. He’s so paranoid that his subordinates will completely screw up the simplest task if he isn’t watching them like Ted Kennedy eying up a bottle of scotch (too soon?).

Everywhere you turn, there he is. Have an assignment? Well, just go into his office each time you make a decision to have it changed. Are you attempting independent thought? Not on his watch. Is that project almost complete? He’ll dissect it like your frog in high school biology.

Somewhere along the line, you’ll spend a shit ton of the business day just seeking his approval for the type of font used for an email. I said TIMES NEW ROMAN, NOT CALIBRI!

The real kick between the uprights will be when he wants to know why your project is taking so long.

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8: Big Picture, Little Brain

Many people in the business world call process people “short sighted” or a “dark cloud.” That’s really because process people are the ones that get the job done. They have to be the thinkers that get figure out the “hows” and “whys.” The polar opposite of a process person is a “big picture” person. That’s basically a classification of executive that likes to hear themselves speak using broad and vague terms, not to actually create a “big picture,” but to provide themselves with an open canvas that will easily cover their own asses if something goes south.

Big picture people have begun to believe that they are superior to the detail monkeys that actually have to make the BIG PICTURE a reality. Or, and this will induce a shit storm larger than Katrina, point out that the big picture is flawed. Damn it! There you go again process dude. Raining on our big thinking parade. Yeah, I’m raining on your parade, but that’s not water.

The process-mongers, will build a foundation of the gods. Plan baby plan. OK, boss, what does it look like? Should it be red? Involve children? Yetti’s? Genetic cloning? The guys in the warehouse have been dying to reanimate the Tyrannosaurus we’ve had boxed up in bay 3 for the last two years. Put us in coach. PUT US IN!

Above: Successful marketing.
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If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of the air conditioning blowing through this jack hole’s ears. The team is there, salivating for an over all direction so they can be cut loose. These people are no longer office mates. They’re eager, grunting Mongolian warriors awaiting orders from the Khan to slaughter the ever loving shit out of the project at hand. But, that is nowhere near what this newly formed Mongolian businessman horde is about to hear. Starting at the 0:52 seconds mark, the clip below is a pretty good example of the mindless blathering you’re likely to hear from a Big Picture, Little Brainer.

It’s enough to drive a person to play kick ball with this dick’s teeth.

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9: Chess Master

I hate this sommabitch like the Jews hate the Nazis. He’s the Chris Angel of corporate illusion, only without the dramatic music in the background.

Everything this master of the unseen contributes to his personal agenda. Whenever he is giving you seemingly honest and good natured advice, it’s a scam. Making the tough decisions? It’s a scam. Settling a dispute between coworkers? Scam, scam, SCAM!

The entire existence of this jackhole is to constantly and consistently move the pieces of the office chess board in his favor. He is the puppet master and you are the foam pawn with his hand up your ass.

We dare you to get this image out of your head.
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But, why? Why all the game playing and people manipulating? Your parking space, an office with a window, first in line at the office picnic… it could be anything. Typically, it revolves around a high ranking exec’s lust for power. [See: Hitler as Chancellor] This megalomaniac’s need to rule the world will eventually cost you your job, sanity, or both. Check your back, daily, for knife wounds.

Really killed for his parking space.
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10: The Royal Order of the Ivory Tower

This wondertard is usually the head of the company. They are suprememly insulated from disturbing things like employee complaints, the presence of chess masters in their senior staff, and reality in general. This guy doesn’t want to know what’s really going on. He just wants to hear the good things and go to cocktail parties with the other Masters of the Universe. If there are no good things to say, he wants you to make that shit up.You’ll be able to recognize this chuckle head by his clueless happy disposition in the middle of the company’s budget crisis. He surrounds himself with henchmen to do all the dirty work. They serve as a type of human iPhone. Employees need to be laid off? There’s an ap for that. Someone need to be demoted? There’s an ap for that. Company responsible for the poisoning of thousands because of mixing lead paint with pudding? There’s an ap for that.

I know that “tell staff of budget crisis while buying a company car”
ap is here somewhere.
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This guy sort of is like the Quaker on the Quaker Oats box. He’s a figure head, but doesn’t really do anything. He insists on delivering all the good news and routinely calls office-wide meetings to make him feel better about himself. He’s under the delusion that the company revolves around him, yet when he’s on one of his three week vacations in Europe, no one seems to notice.He’d kick his own mother in the sternum to get publicity and throw a child into a cheetah paddock if it meant one more head shot on the cover of an industry magazine.

Coming soon: The Executive Version.

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Posted on December 6, 2009, in Job, Life Lessons, Observations and aggravations, Tresckow. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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