CBF 2.0 -- The Sequel

Some people thought it would never happen, and some people probably wished it wouldn't happen, but alas, Cantbefired is back online. Now I know what you're thinking...Where the hell have you been the past year? Well, that's an interesting topic. You see, as the definitive expert (according to myself) on maneuvering throughout the corporate world without doing any work but staying employed, I have come to learn one major lesson: If something goes awry and you know in your heart of hearts that you're probably going to be fired, then just quit before it happens. The whole point of this site is to show how to do little and keep your job, but sometimes that becomes impossible. That's when you pull the trigger, storm into your bosses office, and hand in your gun and badge. It's the only way to keep your dignity.

Well, it turns out that might not be the best idea. Once I realized that our branch was probably going to lay off the majority of our employees, I did what any sane American would do and flat-out quit. At first I was excited by the opportunity to find a new line of work that might not cause me to cry alone in my cubicle from the hours of 9am-11am, and I had some money saved up which would allow me time to find that new endeavor. It was to be a new chapter in the ever growing book that is my life, and I was excited about the dream. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned.

The economy took a dive and my chosen profession, Hotel Management, basically went dormant. That's when things got bad. I immediately contracted a severe drinking problem that ultimately caused what seemed to be either leprecy or hives, I destroyed my credit so bad that I actually start crying now during those catchy freecreditreport.com commercials, and I stole money from homeless pregnant women while they were sleeping. It wasn't a pretty end to 2008.

However, things have recently improved with the advent of a new job, coming almost a year since I told my old boss to F his own D in the BR while J'ing a FP in his BF BHA (I may have gone a bit overboard). But now that I'm back it has caused the resurrection of the only hobby I have which doesn't involve Kleenex and late-night infomercials about girls that are, for some reason or another, going wild. And that would be this sad, great website. My new occupation is returning my bad self to the hotelier world, where I am now an event manager for a hotel that will, for good reason, go unnamed. I've been here a few months, and needless to say, already have ammunition for about two months worth of reasonably entertaining posts. This experiment, which I have titled Cantbefired 2.0, will have some new features including guest posting, forums, and a Twitter account (still don't know what that is, but I hear it's all the rage), while retaining what once made this site great: a complete disregard for everything and everyone.

To give you an idea of what's to come I will be writing an article in a few days about a corporate event I ran two weeks ago which involved a giant inflatable duck, a drunk lesbian couple, and a guest saying to me, "do you have any idea what you're doing?", to which I quickly responded, "well I know what I'm doing wrong, if that helps." Things are a bit different now, and instead of being a corporate drone I'm now a corporate boss, which leads to great responsibility, which then leads to even more terrifyingly awful situations.

I hope that you're all ready for the ride, and I encourage you to send comments and stories of your own from the past year that could be featured in this Friday's mailbag. Good to be back.

Love,

The Peddler

This past week I was on an extended vacation, and because I'm without a Blackberry, my cantbefired posting ability was less than satisfactory. That has all changed. I am officially a member of the Blackberry community as of today, and I'm happy to say my life has changed. Access to email wherever I am. Instant Messaging service with my other Blackberry brethren. Internet at the touch of a button. How did I live before this incomparable machine entered my existence? I have no idea.

Because I'm new to this bizarre cult, I'm still unsure of the exact protocol that goes along with owning the Super Phone. Previously, I was annoyed whenever I was with a friend who spent more time sifting through email than having discussions with me about which celebrity I would spend $20,000 to have sexual relations with (the answer was usually Matt Damon). Am I going to be one of those guys now? In the business world, an executive using a Blackberry during a meeting comes across as being important, rather than rude. In the social world, someone checking stock quotes comes across as not caring about talking to the opposite sex, and seems more attractive because of it. I must say, I'm excited for this new toy. Seriously, I can look up porn while standing in line at the bank. How did no one tell me this was possible?

Then there is the bathroom. I've always just assumed that most people take their Blackberry's into the toilet with them, which seemed pretty disgusting to me. But if I'm parked on the can and am able do the New York Times Crossword at the same time, is that so wrong? I'll go with no.

I can't wait to call it a Crackberry, I can't wait to upgrade to the new Storm, and I can't wait to email people while I'm driving. The fact that I've gone this long without one of these amazing tools is beyond me, and I just hope that the rest of the world can get on board as well. Not having a Blackberry these days is like being a ninja and not possessing throwing stars. It's like being a pirate without an eyepatch. It's like being a hooker that doesn't take cash upfront. Basically, you're missing a crucial element of your current demographic, which makes you seem less credible.

I'm sure there are individuals out there who look down on the Blackberry population, and I used to be one of them. Now I see that I was only enraged in jealousy for these folks, and I apologize to the entire community. Of course, many people will still be jealous despite my post today, and I expect that.

Sent from my Blackberry Mobile Device

Get Outta Jail Free Card...

Someone sent me an email recently stating that they wanted to attend one of these festivals that occur in New York City every other week, but that it happened to be on a Tuesday when they had an important meeting. She was asking if I had any advice for getting out of work, mainly because she had recently taken off a few times recently faking a cold and felt her boss was on to her. The sad part is I read the email, chuckled at her reason for taking off, and closed my laptop. For some reason I forgot all about the email until this morning, when I realized that I deleted it sometime in the past three weeks. Whoops. Normally that's not my style, I love Mailbag, everyone knows that about me. But sometimes it's difficult to sift through the four emails I get every month.

Hopefully the young lady (I don't remember her name) figured out a way to take off work for the festival (I don't remember what festival it was, and now that it's on my mind, it may not have been a festival at all) without getting in trouble, but if she did it was on her own. What would I have told her, you ask? Well, let's see...

To call off work, there is always one move I use when I am desperate for a day off, but it can only really be used once per job. Calling on the morning of the day in question and faking sick is the tried and true method that has been used for years, but it has its flaws. You have to be a good enough actor to fake a sick voice, you have to answer any questions that your boss may have, and every manager has heard that bit two hundred times.

My method is simple and painless. All you need is a good friend, a phone, and the ability to lie your face off when you go back into work. Here's the situation...

The night before you would like to be free from work have one of your best friends call your managers work phone. This is important because we do not want your friend to actually talk to your boss, so the message needs to be sent via voicemail. Here's an example of what your friend needs to say.

"Hello, I'm hoping this is Steve's managers voicemail, this is his friend Brian. Steve asked me to call you because he is currently in the hospital. He had a shortness of breath and we had to take him in as a precaution. It turns out everything seems to be okay now, but the doctors want to keep him here overnight just to make sure. He says that he'll call you tomorrow when he wakes up to discuss some work stuff. Thanks for understanding."

The key here is to make sure you call in the morning to tell your boss your fine, but that they want to do some tests to see what is wrong. This way the whole office isn't freaking out (I'm not that cruel), and you don't want anyone actually going to the hospital to visit you (considering you won't be there). This call is simple because you don't have to fake sick, and you can get off the phone quickly if you need to.

The genius of this method is its simplicity, but also it's originality. No boss is going to question a call from a friend of an employee that is in the hospital, as the whole ordeal has probably caught them a bit off guard.

So you hang up the phone that morning and continue with whatever cool thing your doing on your new day off. Then you get into work early the next day so you don't have to deal with a huge entrance, as news may have spread to other coworkers about your fake illness. The problem is you're going to have to answer random questions from the curious employees, and if you're not ready with a quick answer, it may look suspicious. Here are a few examples of questions you might hear...

"What hospital did you stay in?"

"What did the doctors say?"

"How come you look hungover this morning?"

"What kind of tests did they do?"

"Where is your cool hospital bracelet?"

"Was your nurse a hottie?"

"Was your doctor a hottie?"

"Did you get any good pain killers?"

"Is it lame if I buy a Segway?"

Honestly, any and every question will be asked. And not because they suspect foul play, but because people feel as though if they don't ask questions and act concerned it makes them seem like they don't care, especially when it comes to health issues.

Give it a shot and let me know how it goes, I assure you if it's pulled off correctly it has a zero percent fail rate. If not, blame it on your friend who left the message. Freakin' Brian.

Old Man Winter Screws Me Again...

The winter months can bring a few positives and negatives that we've come to accept and deal with. Obviously the positives are the insane amount of days off from holidays, the fact that all single women are on the prowl for a new man to keep them warm, and how it's now socially acceptable to drink scotch constantly. Then there are the negatives. Such as the unbearable cold weather, the fact that all single women end up finding a man the first weekend in November and then don't leave their house until April, and how people judge me for wearing flip flops when it's only 12 degrees.

Anyway, I have a new pet peeve that occurs during this time of year, and it has to do with our office coat closet. Because of my blatant disregard for everything that is my company, I usually show up to work about a half hour later than most of these peasants, which has had no drawbacks since March. Then I came into work today and remembered why I hate this place; the freaking coat closet. There are approximately 18 employees in our office and the coat closet has room for about 17 coats. Normally this wouldn't be a problem if my cubicle had a hanger or a coat rack or an assistant, but alas, I'm not that lucky. So I end up having to hang my coat on the floor underneath my desk, and for some reason I actually own some decent coats.

This morning I wore my brand new winter coat to work, and when I discovered that the coat closet was packed full I almost lost it. Granted, I could have came into work on time, but that didn't occur to me. Instead I've been wearing my coat all morning in blatant disregard for the lack of hanging space in this terrible office. It's like 90 degrees in here and I'm in a tweed pea coat that has me on the brink of heat exhaustion, but I'm not backing down. So far three people have questioned my motives and my response has been the same each time...

"Why don't you tell H.R. to build a new goddamn coat closet!"

I don't care if it's not H.R.'s fault, but it's really easy to blame them for most of the trouble in the world. For instance, I'm currently blaming H.R. for the fact this season of 'Entourage' has been downright unwatchable. I just want to live my life vicariously through Vince's, and that's hard to do when I'm currently making more money than him. Whatever, I watch 'Dexter' now instead so it doesn't matter. I also blame H.R. for the fact that two of the buttons on my shirt are missing today. Freaking H.R.

Anyway, Ghandi didn't eat once during his fast for freedom against the British, so I'm not going to take this coat off today. I don't care how close I come to passing out during our weekly cost analysis meeting, I'm not backing down. It's about time someone made a stand in this town, and that time is now.

I shouldn't have brought hot soup for lunch. And the third cup of coffee was also a bad idea. I'm starting to hallucinate. But at least I'm wearing a damn fine coat.

Aren't Celebrities Losing Money Too?

I think we've hit an all-time new low in this country. There have been many signs recently that have led us to believe we're in a tailspin of disaster, some of which are obvious and some that are not. Among them the Dow Jones recession, gas prices, 'The Hills' still being on the air, the housing market, Tom Brady not playing in the NFL this year, and the ever-growing amount of douchebags that clutter our great land. Ok, maybe the DB's have always been here, but the rest of that stuff is perplexing. Anyway, it seems as though it's getting worse.

How could it be getting worse Peddler? Well it's not Mailbag day, but I'll answer your question anyway. It seems as though we are now hosting charity functions for the recently laid-off businessmen that work on Wall Street. That's right, the filthy rich 20-somethings who probably played a larger part in this recession than we realize right now have their own cause. Right now I'm sure you're asking, what type of charity are we talking about here? Seriously, Mailbag is tomorrow, stop asking so many questions.

A bar in Manhattan is hosting a gala of sorts that will invite any recently laid off Wall Street worker to network among desperate company executives that are in search of dilapidated talent. Technically, there are actual people that will be helped in this mess. Every one of these unemployed idiots has to pay $20 at the door that goes to the Ronald McDonald House, which is actually a great cause. But despite this fact, there is still a function occurring in NYC that is being held simply to find these rich assholes a new job. And my problem isn't necessarily with the fact that these individuals are looking for a new occupation, but that Bloomberg News decided it was front page material. Aren't there other groups in this world that might be more deserving of our country's front page news?

What about the farmers in this country who are losing hundreds a day due to the lack of government funding and consumer demand?

How about the small business owner who can't afford to pay his/her employees?

Where is the love for middle-class IT professional who has an expensive lifestyle to maintain, yet can't because he bought a new, shiny car right before the economic crunch and is now stuck with monthly payments he can barely afford?

What about the kids in high school who have to get a pager because their folks can't afford a cellphone payment?

How about the small restaurant owners who have to stop serving Foie Gras on their menu, and substitute that item with local squirrels they catch in an alley?

As you can see, there are so many other important causes out there to support besides wasting time reporting on how bad the yuppie schmucks on Wall Street have it. I'm not a cynic mind you, I hope these guys and gals get their job back soon and start helping our economy blossom. I just hoped they wouldn't have to resort to being such jackasses about it. Also, give me my mutual fund money back, you pricks.

And by the way, in case you were wondering, the function is called a 'Pink Slip Party'. You can't make that kinda shit up.

Please, Silence Your Phones...

I've come to one of two conclusions recently. Either a) some phones don't have a vibrate mode, or b) some people don't know that their phone has a vibrate mode. There can't be another explanation, there really can't. How do people not know that having their phone on any audible ringer is the most annoying sound next to single women bitching about how there are no single men out there. We're out there ladies, trust me.

Maybe people do know these damn ringer songs are annoying, but they just don't care about how much they disturb others. I can understand hearing a phone ringing in some public places such as a mall, the bank, or a Verizon store. But why in the world do you need to have your cellphone blasting "I'm Not a Player I Just Crush a Lot" at full blast while you're sitting at your desk in the office? There are people trying to look up soft-core porn in the cubicle next to you, have some respect. And who is calling your cellphone three hundred times during work hours anyway? These friends of yours don't have Gchat? Email? At least have them call your work phone so we can have a normal ring instead of hearing "It's Five O'clock Somewhere" every forty-five minutes.

The gentleman that sits in the cube next to me has this same issue I've been discussing. He purchased a ring tone of the Super Mario Brothers video game about nine months ago that I found amazingly hysterical back then. I would dance at my desk every time it came on while congratulating Eric on his phenomenal choice of an original, and joyous ring tone. Then a few weeks passed, and the song started to get on the annoying side. A few more weeks passed, and I threw away my old Nintendo games. A couple months went by, and I began hating Italian culture so much I stopped eating pasta. The main issue was that Eric's wife was seemingly unemployed and would spend much of the day calling him regarding the tedious errands she was running. I'm talking ten calls a day, minimum.

Finally I had to say something.

Me: Eric, we need to talk. I just can't deal with your ringer anymore. It's making my head spin, I just can't take it.
Eric: I thought you loved the Mario Brothers ringer?
Me: I did Eric. But that was back when I didn't think they were communist bastards sent here to infect my ears with their fascist ideals.
Eric: I guess I could just change it.
Me: I have an even better idea for you. Put the damn thing on VIBRATE!
Eric: But how would I hear it ring if I'm at Bob's cube down the hall?
Me: Here's the thing about cell phones that you might not understand Eric. Even if you don't hear it vibrate, when you return to the phone it will tell you there is a missed call from your wife. She might even leave a voicemail asking how many whip-its she should buy from Safeway. And by the way, when you're not here to answer your phone the song goes on for about 12 minutes straight. It's excruciating.
Eric: Well I'm just going to keep it how it is for now. Thanks though...

Eric has made a giant mistake. This aggression will not stand, and soon he will meet his demise. I'm currently in production of some sort of revenge plan, which I will relate to you after it has come to fruition. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. I have a new enemy, and I suggest you do the same at your offices. This audible ring tone fad needs to end.

At Least I Wasn't Dreaming About Scarlett Johannson...

What is it with coworkers and telling me stories of their personal lives, despite my obvious lack of interest? I sit there and pretend to listen to the tales of their children, their love life, and their lives in general with a blank stare and meaningless response, yet they continue to talk to me. Maybe I'm alone. Maybe everyone enjoys sharing stories of how they took their kids to see 'High School Musical 3' this weekend, or how they recently went to their ten year high school reunion and made out with their old homecoming date in the back of an Acura. But when I go to work I'd like to sit at my desk, surf the Internet, and watch the clock tick away. And it gets especially obnoxious when these tales are integrated into regular work situations.

Recently a coworker of mine decided to share her weekend saga of Go-Karting with her son and daughter during a conference call. At first I let out a frustrated groan that went unnoticed, but figured the discussion would end soon so I kept my mouth shut. Unfortunately this was not the case. Dorothy's story went on for ten minutes while the rest of us were stuck in a cramped conference room, forced to listen to this never ending saga. So, I did what I used to do during my days in high school and college: I stopped paying attention. It was amazing how easily I channeled my inner 'Physics 101" skill of daydreaming about what I would do if won the lottery, or how my first date with Marisa Tomei would pan out.

Apparently, I was a bit rusty. The daydreaming lasted a bit too long and I missed the first five minutes of the actual conference call, which was somewhat important to my job. To everyone else in the room I looked as if I was concentrating on the tasks at hand, but mentally I was walking Marisa Tomei back to her apartment after a wonderful meal accompanied by a fine Cabernet. Then I heard my name from one of our corporate affilates over the phone.

Mike: Steve, do you have either of those proposals with you now?

Whoa, was that my name? Why was Dorothy mentioning me and the proposals during a story of her family Go-Kart trip? Was I at the track with them? What did I do this weekend come to think of it? Why isn't Marisa asking me up to her place for coffee?

Me: Excuse me?
Mike: The proposals we're talking about, do you have those two?
Me: Which two? I brought about ten with me.
Mike: The two we've been talking about the past five minutes.
Boss: (whispering) Are you okay?

It took me a few seconds to realize that I may have been focusing my thoughts elsewhere for a few minutes too long, and I quickly attempted to correct the issue.

Me: I'm sorry Mike, I was busy reading through these notes and missed the two proposals you're speaking of. Do you mind repeating what companies they were?

Dead air. We called his name a few times and no response. When I looked up the other three individuals (including Dorothy, the race car driving mom) had their eyes set on me in dismay. Oh, so it's okay for you to rant on for five minutes about your day at Speedworld, but it's a crime if I picture myself in a jacuzzi with the Academy Award winner of 'My Cousin Vinny'?

This is an integral part of staying employed, saving yourself from termination. We go to work every day and eventually we're going to make a catastrophic mistake that could potentially be hazardous to our employment. The key is creating a solution. In this case, I simply went back to my desk, phoned Mike in our corporate office, and explained exactly what happened.

Me: Sorry about before Mike, but I had heard Dorothy's weekend story a few too many times and was looking over the paperwork for the actual meeting. I guess I was too invested into the proposals and missed the beginning of our discussion. I can assure you it won't happen again.

Rule 1 to getting out of trouble: blaming someone else. Make sure you are putting the blame fully on yourself at first, but mention someone else during your explanation in a way that makes them seem incompetent. It will make you seem that you are capable of taking blame, but that maybe it wasn't your fault after all.

It ended up working out in the end. Mike understood, and we finished the conference call with just the two of us. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure why Dorothy was there in the first place, she had nothing to contribute. But Marisa Tomei on the other hand...she had something to contribute.