Those Were the Days

I remember back when I was employed, there was this time when my boss was lecturing me about some stupid thing or another, and he said unto me, and I quote, “think outside the box.”

“Think outside the box,” I thought to myself. “I didn’t even know there was a g0d@mned box.” “He dictates idiotic memos about every other piece of feces excreted by his brain, why didn’t he send me the f^ck!ng `box’ memo?”

Fearing the reception such comments might receive, I opted to mutter, “Yus, Mastah, outside the box, Mastah.” Apparently, this was not the response Mastah hoped to receive, either. And so we agreed that he would keep his company and I would keep mine.

I have heard “think outside the box” stated several times since, and I still have no idea what it means. Is there some box that I’m not aware of? Where is this f^ck!ng box?

Of course, now that I’m an employer, I’ve come full circle. When the staff is lined up for morning inspection, part of my daily diatribe includes a directive for them to “think outside the box.” Then, I watch their eyes in hopes that they will glance toward the box and reveal its location. When they don’t, I storm off in a huff muttering, “Don’t you dare call me Mastah, inside-the-box thinkers!”