Three Weird Sisters
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Pointy-haired Boss (Version Three)

By Brenda Sutton © 2002

Pointy-haired boss hires you as the qualified pro,
Pays a salary for all you know
And then countermands your suggestions.
Pointy-haired boss orders pizza to trap you at work,
And then toddles off home like a jerk,
Leaving you with the indigestion.
Pointy-haired boss claims in verbiage omniscient
That the cube is efficient
Use of workspace, and oh so cozy.
Pointy-haired boss times your breaks and your lunches,
Promotes morons on hunches,
Stresses out and then flings things.
Oh, pointy-haired boss, must be good to be king.

Pointy-haired boss likes to throw in a buzzword or two.
Loves "pro-active" and "paradigm." Oooh!
But don't ask for a definition.
Pointy-haired boss wants the volume of speakerphones LOUD!
Conducts business on cell phones in crowds,
And steals taxis with no contrition.
Pointy-haired boss has a problem with time off.
Your pneumonia's a small cough.
"Here's a tissue. Just keep on working!"
Pointy-haired boss undercuts her own granny,
Backstabs and kicks your fanny
All the way to the bank. Thank you,
Pointy-haired boss! We'll bend over - you spank.

Pointy-haired boss doesn't actually know what you do,
Yet feels confident writing reviews
That will impact career decisions.
Pointy-haired boss thinks technology is "really great!"
The computer is a paperweight
That plays Solitaire with precision.
Pointy-haired boss dangles raises like carrots,
Without reason or merit,
Issues meaningless memoranda.
Pointy-haired boss goes on junket vacations,
Offers lame explanations (of why)
Nepotism's okay. Hey (there)
Pointy-haired boss...

We'll do just what you say, we won't do what you do.
We won't ever -- no way -- become pond scum like you!
When we make our big bucks, and your karma kicks in,
And you're down on your luck, and you're balding and thin,
We'll remember your fame, and we will cross the road
As you go up in flames.... you will serve us, you toad!

Note 1: This song is in no way, shape or form inspired by Mr. Evan Hackel, the president of Flooring America, who is (bar none) the very best boss on the face of the planet, and who should be held as the penultimate role model for anyone considering a career in corporate management. As for the rest of you... squirm, baby,... SQUIRM!

Note 2: In the original version, the last line was "we'll piss on you, you toad!" I wrote the line using the following logical progression:

IF one despised a person so much that, should said person go up in flames, one would not bother to cross the road to piss on them, thereby putting out the fire,

THEN the far kinder and gentler person would indeed take pity on the ex-boss/bonfire, cross the road and, having no fire hose handy, put out the fire the only way possible... by pissing on them.

HOWEVER... no matter how sweetly we sang that line, no matter the logic leading to that conclusive ending.... it just sounded, well... harsh. My husband says I can't expect an audience to follow a complex logical argument to it's inevitable conclusion in so short a space of time. And, besides, Teresa doesn't say the "P" word, let alone sing it.

HENCE Version Two of the song wherein the last line was: "As you go up in flames... we'll employ you, you toad!" But that version just never felt right either. It was okay, but no great shakes, if you know what I mean.

Note 3: Bringing us to the current, and (hopefully) final version of the song, which captures the true spirit of world domination and exhultation I hoped to convey. (Whew! I feel so much better getting all that off of my chest...)