Miss Management Strikes Again

I sometimes, I do admit, like to fantasise. You will know when you see me sitting by myself with a distant look in my eyes, staring at nothing in particular and a funny smile on my face. It is then that I like to dream of a hell just for managers. And what this special hell would contain.

I hope that when managers die, the person guarding the gates judges them on various issues ranging from incompetency to callousness, prejudice to inhumanity and idiocy to mediocrity. I like to think that when they are found to fail every one of these tests, as for sure most of them will, they will be banished to the Special Hell for Mis-managers (Regardless of Gender Despite the Name). Here they will be asked to write out, with their finger, a thousand lines every day stating why they think they deserve to go to heaven. Wait. Then they might not have anything to write. No, they will write about what they did with the fat sums they earned and how they managed to climb the corporate ladder. A thousand lines everyday. With their finger. When, at the end of the day, their work is checked, they will be asked where all the lines are. These managers will then point helplessly at their little slates and go - there they are, I wrote them with my finger, don't you see? The evaluator will say - foolish man. How do you expect us to read this if you write it with your finger. I command you to now write two thousand times the same things; and this time you shall use your fingernails. I then hope they will suffer eternal cringing and teeth-grinding as they listen to each other's fingernails screeching across the boards and then suffer eternal weariness doing this exercise and mourn eternally for the fact that they subject their worthier subordinates to senseless assignments of this sort everyday.

For verily I tell to thee - they shall do this for every day of their eternal afterlives.