So, it has been quite the year my friend. Quite the year...
El-Jefe clucked and shuffled his hind bits on his chair as if he were a broody hen whose milkshakes brought all the boys to the yard.
My lips twerked with one another and I gave him a sidelong look.
We were in one of the office's many small Covid Friendly meeting rooms in which there was barely space for two to sit without knees touching and the moisture from our breathing hung in the air like burning toilet paper.
Yes, it has been quite the year.
I exhaled with a slow hiss like an old and tired snake having to get up for the second time during the night for the toilet.
El-Jefe chuckled and folded his arms across his chest which given the sheer gigantic moobery he had going on made it look like he was attempting to hug two armadillos fighting in a pillowcase.
And once again, here we are!
He waved a big beefy ham of a hand around the cramped little room and smiled knowingly.
I looked heavenward for the patience not to punch him square in the neck. I hated this time of year. Hated it with a passion. It was our annual appraisal. The time of the year when we had to write a pile of shit about how well we had done in our jobs and somehow connect it to our Company values.
Given that our company values were the most abstract bag of horse penises ever made the exercise a frustrating one at best.
But that wasn't the worst bit of it. Oh no. The worst bit was having to submit your appraisal notes to the man himself. the burden of beef that was the Jefemeister.
He loved every second of humming and hawing over things you had claimed in your appraisal before deciding that he would challenge them in the most superior way.
Then he would loftily advise that you would hear in due course whether your work over the year merited a bonus or not.
I have decided to mix things up a little this year.
El-Jefe intoned gravely in a way that he no doubt imagined God did when telling Moses to get a chisel and some flat rocks.
not to be confused with flat cocks - which would have resulted in a whole different kind of testament...
Ah yes, Bossovitch? In what way?
I tried to mimic a Golden Retriever so that he thought I looked both comely and interested in what he was saying.
El-Jefe threw my appraisal notes down on the small table and motioned at them.
Have a read, I have put some commentary around your appraisal notes. Give it a quick scan and if you agree with what has been said we can both sign it and I will submit it up the chain with my recommendation.
He pulled a pen out and waggled it in readiness.
I pulled the notes over and started to read his typed commentary.
As I read, I started shaking my head before letting out a snort of laughter.
What's wrong? What are you laughing at?
El-Jefe, who had been swinging back on his chair like a perpetual motion machine made of german sausage and lard thumped to a halt and frowned accusingly at me.
Boss man... Did you... Did you get ChatGPT to write this?
I chuckled. It was as plain as day. His notes were the generic anodyne shit of the AI overlords of tomorrow.
El-Jefe turned bright red like a Yorkshireman's nipple in the sun.
What? Bullshit. No, I did not. How dare you say that? Why would you even think that?
He snatched the notes away from me and held them furtively like a pair of stolen socks.
Haha, naughty naughty boss man.
I shook my head at him as if he were a pregnant lady's recently discarded mucus plug.
Naughty? I'm not having this, I wrote these. I mean, if you don't want to discuss your appraisal that is fine with me.
He stood, still clutching the notes.
You will get your rating in due course.
He sniffed haughtily.
I laughed some more.
I am sure I will. It had better be a good one.
El-Jefe sputtered like a Badger smoking a pipe.
We'll see!
He stamped out.
Oh yes El-Jeffo we will most definitely see.
