In Defense of Management
(Part 2)
While these physical roles are easily established, the principle disparity between the two groups is a divergence far more endemic than even physical attributes. The average Blue Collar worker is loath to boast a daily record of work performed, for fellow employees will deride him if such an account is offered. Merely noticing, let alone boasting, that one has sweat blood in the course of a workday is cause for a lambasting. Indeed, the more difficult the deed flaunted, the more derision one can expect to receive from one's fellows. This derision rises on an order of magnitude if these same deeds are mentioned to the accursed manager. To offer one's manager an unsolicited account of the workday so negates all that was done as to be almost worse than having shirked those duties completely. To boast of one's accomplishments is looked upon by the rabble as a mark of betrayal and a sure sign of managerial leanings, and thus a secret yearning for a life of scheming manipulations and physical ease. The results of the worker's day speak silent volumes to all who labored beside the productive fellow, and a more mute testimony need never be offered. The honor of knowing one's mettle is the reward, and the endearment and respect of one's co-workers is like an invisible badge of rank, one which can only be displayed in a swagger of towering self-respect.
This muscle-sore swagger of barrel-chested pride will necessarily never be experienced by those who populate the cubicles of officialdom. These creatures must by necessity take credit for the accomplishments of the Blue Collar worker, cloaking themselves in distant deeds and reaping illegitimate kudos. The more verbose the accountability, the greater the acclaim; and acclaim is the ultimate goal of one who accomplishes nothing tangible. The beleaguered middle manager must accumulate accolades in order to showcase his command of the departmental muscle, thereby gaining in prestige over the other puppetmasters. These poor wretches are never secure in their posts, and must either rise, or perish in lateral obscurity. Many affect an air of intellectual condescension to mask the reality of their position, and this is especially so in cases where the manager has no practical knowledge of the work being performed under him. The overlord is secretly at the mercy of the foreman and, knowing so, the inept manager husbands this resource like a miser's treasure. On the other hand, should the inept manager inadvertently install a conniving foreman, he risks becoming the manipulated mouthpiece of his own lackey, an unwary monkey dancing for a scheming organ grinder. In this worst of all scenarios, a symbiotic relationship develops between manager and foreman in which little gets done but much is taken credit for. When at some eventuality the reality of the situation is presented, the display of indignation (whether genuinely felt, or feigned) is a self-righteous farce worthy of operatic grandeur.
Our beleaguered middle manager lurks about under constant delusions of Blue Collar ineptitude and laziness. These traditional views upholding Blue Collar lassitude are not completely without merit. While most Blue Collar workers slave in spite of themselves, a growing minority of suburban milksops are infesting the ranks of laborers here in Antarctica. To them a work ethic is a weakness to be scoffed at, and by shirking responsibilities they believe they are pulling one over on "The Man". Many of these miscreants are neo-hippies who romanticize the past and view themselves through a distorted lens of self-indulgent platitudes. They have perverse notions of what it means to be living the good life, free from the constraints of servitude, but ensconced in luxury and material excess. These children of the sun are damning genetic examples of the 60's era "Free Love" and that dubious generation's legacy of duty. While such louts are rare in number, the deviant Blue Collar worker is a constant source of aggravation to all who suffer the presence of this individual. This one malignant strain personifies many of the preconceived notions management holds in regards to Blue Collar workers as a whole, and this blight maligns all who strive to do a job for its own sake. The all seeing eye of upper management is always by chance glancing about when this buffoon makes an appearance, and the observation becomes a reflection on the group as a whole. This reflection of the group is a concentrated reflection on the abilities of the manager who, under this magnified spotlight of misconception, is burned alive for failing to motivate or rein in unproductive workers. Such Blue Collar mites of humanity recoil under any direction and are engaged in constant petty rebellions against all of the smaller forms of authority. When approached by management of rank these lackeys either run and hide or transform into sulking lickspittles willing to make any concession, and praise any decision however harebrained, in an effort to distract the detractor's attention away from themselves. The inept and vainglorious supervisor often mistakes these obsequious sycophants as creatures of talent and, against all rationality, promotes them into the lower rungs of middle management. In this sense, a constant battle between genuine talent and politically-savvy ineptitude is being waged. The managerial aspirant, although aware that some degree of real merit is demanded by his position, nonetheless holds political agility and endearment as attributes of greater value than competence and insightful knowledge. The manager of talent scoffs at such connections and shoulders on, despite the sometimes temporary aggrandizement his nemesis might seem to enjoy. Thus, the ranks of management are as split amongst themselves as are the ranks of their laboring minions; the bad apples of the office sector, just as in the work yard, spoil the image of the lot.
Who wields the power to promote mediocre imbeciles to positions of authority? It is the upper middle manager, often an aged curmudgeon who after years of clerical exile in the middle ranks has managed to clamber a rung or two higher. Securely perched, these marooned scavengers glare about with a profane sense of self-satisfaction. All the while clinging to precarious notions of grandeur, they are actually ebbing in prowess and desperately harbor stillborn dreams of advancement. These pitiful curs people the crevices of Antarctic operations at Denver headquarters, and have for many years. These ranks of management are festooned with backbiting, inept bunglers, as immune to competency and sound reason as they are to original thought. Many of these self-inflated mountebanks are just now fading into well-earned obscurity, after half a lifetime of penury accomplishment and self-serving mechanizations. Their penchant for half-witted manipulation and self-aggrandizing schemes chased many a genuine talent from the Antarctic program, and populated it with the lowest cost (and cast) of laboring humanity...and in the end have cost the Antarctic program many millions of dollars.
A variation on our theme is the newly graduated professional manager. Often, if not principally, the directly hired graduate possesses an attitude of aloof antagonism towards the Blue Collar wretches under his or her control. This form of nobility often represents a second or third generation of White Collar manipulators, and has been spoon-fed from birth in the superiority of his person. Having been schooled in the "art" of management, and with little, if any, hands-on experience with tasks physical or practical, these masters of chicanery are the vampires of their kind. Ambitious to a fault, each position attained is a stepping-stone to greater pastures, thus importance far beyond relevance is placed on every action that may effect a bystander's perception of the manager's performance. In the end, however, the ranks of middle management are an anathema for any truly ambitious manager, and usually only the younger recent graduates are ever to be suffered as a boss. The very notion of rubbing shoulders with an "untouchable" is an abhorrence to these BS, MBA imposters, although a young, hot, hardbody laborer is still worth a poke.