Eating Bellhop

Captain’s Log    5,780

Time to drop the hammer down on one of my staff.  Every so often, this person takes on too much “ownership” of other people’s jobs and decisions about how to do those jobs.   This person has an opinion about everything and just cannot seem to contain comments and unsolicited advice.  It always happens when I have been gone for a few days.  

When a staff member is hassled for one of myriad of reasons and bites back, this perpetrator acts like a victim and comes running to momma.   That would be me.  So momma did a little investigating and found out this person has been going after other staff members with a fairly large cattle prod – zapping other staff members with unwanted opinions and suggestions.  Bundle all of that with a superior attitude and we have entered the danger zone.

I found myself within earshot of some of these comments yesterday, so I walked up and said, “You need to stop these negative comments and you need to stop them now.  Nobody here tells you how to do your job or direct your decisions.  Stop.  It.  Now.”

This was the catalyst for yesterday’s firestorm and why I was so fed up.


Huge desert racer

Some of what I overheard yesterday.

Why did we put something so big in that corner?

The color is awful!

How long do we have to keep that ugly thing?

Nobody is going to like this.

What a big stupid thing.

Ad nauseum………………

I can only imagine what it would have been like to have this person as a parent.  

I was lucky.  My parents stayed completely out of my way.  I was a good kid, but I did weird things.  As long as I didn’t hurt anyone, my parents never really cared.  For instance, they had no problem with me living under the dining room table when I thought I was a dog.  I was never told my ideas were stupid.  I knew my limits and they respected my rather off-kilter approach to viewing the world.   They listened to countless hours of folk music rehearsals in the living room when I was in high school.  When I was younger, they tolerated all of us playing “Donner Party” every winter in the playhouse by the garage.  We never ate anyone, but we did PRETEND to eat Phillip.  Phillip had a serious speech impediment and couldn’t say his name.  So we called him BELLHOP.  Bellhop would “die” and we would “amputate” his leg with a wooden sword.  After we “dined” on Bellhop, we would fall to our knees and beg God’s forgiveness for being so depraved.  The game could last for hours.  We ate Bellhop every single time.  If Bellhop wasn’t around, we didn’t play Donner Party.  We played “Himalayan Summit” instead.  We certainly had enough snow.

My point is……nobody likes to be controlled.  Nobody wants to hear constant advice about what to do, think, feel, or express.  It’s maddening!

So, it’s hammer time with this particular staff person who can’t seem to stop picking picking picking at others until they show some teeth.


Filed under Captain Poolie's observations

17 responses to “Eating Bellhop

  1. HAHAHAHA!!! Poor Bellhop!!

  2. joanie

    Loved the “Bellhop” story. Good decision to ration a part at at time. A friend like THAT you don’t eat all at once.

  3. Interesting that most of the negative comments are about things that can’t be changed. Although that vehicle is “unusual”, I find it interesting and I would enjoy seeing it in real life. If everyone liked the same things…as you know…our lives would be very boring. Hope you can “slap” him down a bit so he backs off for a few days. Apparently he thinks he needs to take control when you are away and then forgets that you are back again. Zen, Zen, Zen….

  4. I’m sorry she/he is so non functional. I love that ugly thing you’re sharing with us. At first, I thought it had machine guns coming out the front.

  5. There’s always someone like that. I have the dubious joy of being situated next to one at work, as of yesterday. I could run over him, and while it’s tempting, so far I’ve resisted temptation. So far.

  6. Patty O'

    Oh good grief! Just what you need, another confrontation!

  7. Ter

    For what it’s worth, I think that’s a pretty badass racer! The color, for me, places it circa 1970s-ish?

  8. Exactly what is Mr. (or Ms.) Hassler? A deprived parent? Time to get over it!

    Funny thing about parents: even the most judgmental of them teach you something — such as “don’t hassle people for no reason.” It made me a better parent. You can ask any of my three.

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