 |
 |
 |
| Mr Yuk Mouth |
Monday, May 30, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Cats, a skull, and me in wizard hat.
 |
| Mia in full tortitude |
 |
| Maebel and me |
 |
| Why do i keep thinking about my mortality? |
 |
| Get this image on your van! (See Van Art in the Gift Shop) |
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Performance Evaluation
"Have a seat. How've you been..."
The older man sits, sweat steadily dripping.
"You know..." He shifts in the wooden chair. It creaks.
"Yes, well that's what we needed to talk about." The younger man looks up from a clip board with yellowed pages and purple mimeographs, and places it on the desk between them. "We need to talk about your stats."
The old man exhales and leans forward in the chair. He looks down at his heavily calloused hands and brings them together with a clap too loud for this small space. "Let's do it."
"I want to say first off that we really respect the time you've been here. Just going through some numbers, your attendance looks good. You have positive evaluations from your prior overseers going back millennia."
"Sounds good to me." muttered the old man.
"The only problem we have is with your PA%. It's...well, it's at zero."
The older man snorted, and looked away.
"I'm serious here. What can I do to help? What do you need to be able meet the reasonable goals we've set?"
"Goals? Look, I don't want to be rude, but how long have you been here?"
A flush crept the younger man's neck. "I don't think that's relevant. I haven't been here for nigh 5 thousand years, if that's what you're saying..."
The older slowly leaned back. Watching the other sputter was a small satisfaction.
"...but this isn't about me. We really need to bet those numbers within the acceptable range... What can i do to help... pal?" He looked across the desk trying to make eye contact.
Rage grew in the old man. The supercilious overseer's words hung there. Pal was a bad choice. He swallowed the rage and spat out words. "You don't want to hear this, but it's not me. I am out there pushing that rock up that hill for eternity. Your stats aren't able to accurately account for the punishment of that. Look in order to come up with the PA stat for the Pre-BC section of Hades, err Hell, sorry, old habits, you had to create a base line, and when you calculated the punishment quotient of say, Tantalus, you're completely skewing my numbers. If you look at the punishment per annum stat, you can see that i'm one of the most punished in the unit."
The younger man picks the clipboard up and begins to flip through the pages. He finds one and begins to read to himself. His lips so slightly moving along with words.
"Do you see?"
"Hmm?" The younger man looks up from the clip board and places it back on the desk.
"Were you looking at the per annum stats, showing how punished i really am?"
"No. I was looking over your file. Impressive. You conned how many gods? You do have a way with words. So anyway, how about increasing your stats?"
The older man's brow furrowed. His lips pursed. His words were delivered slowly and deliberately. "I push a rock up a hill everyday. That rock, before reaching the top, always rolls down to the bottom, of the hill."
"...but, but we just want to help you get that rock to the top, buddy!"
"It's...not...getting...to...the...top. That's the punishment. Inherent in the nature of what i am doing is exactly what is preventing me from meeting your metric. Your calculation makes sense for Tantalus. He's chained up in reach of water and food, yet he's starving and dehydrating because they recede when he reaches for them."
"We're not talking about other people. Look Sisyphus, don't worry about what everyone else is doing. You're here to push that rock to the top of the hill. That's not so hard, now is it? We just want you to focus on one rock at a time!"
"There...is...only...one...rock."
"We can change that! Let's think positive. I really think you can turn these numbers around, and start getting some of those rocks to the top of that hill!"
"Ok. You got it, boss. Are we done here? That rock isn't going to push itself."
"Yeah, we're done. And thanks for all you do."
The older man sits, sweat steadily dripping.
"You know..." He shifts in the wooden chair. It creaks.
"Yes, well that's what we needed to talk about." The younger man looks up from a clip board with yellowed pages and purple mimeographs, and places it on the desk between them. "We need to talk about your stats."
The old man exhales and leans forward in the chair. He looks down at his heavily calloused hands and brings them together with a clap too loud for this small space. "Let's do it."
"I want to say first off that we really respect the time you've been here. Just going through some numbers, your attendance looks good. You have positive evaluations from your prior overseers going back millennia."
"Sounds good to me." muttered the old man.
"The only problem we have is with your PA%. It's...well, it's at zero."
The older man snorted, and looked away.
"I'm serious here. What can I do to help? What do you need to be able meet the reasonable goals we've set?"
"Goals? Look, I don't want to be rude, but how long have you been here?"
A flush crept the younger man's neck. "I don't think that's relevant. I haven't been here for nigh 5 thousand years, if that's what you're saying..."
The older slowly leaned back. Watching the other sputter was a small satisfaction.
"...but this isn't about me. We really need to bet those numbers within the acceptable range... What can i do to help... pal?" He looked across the desk trying to make eye contact.
Rage grew in the old man. The supercilious overseer's words hung there. Pal was a bad choice. He swallowed the rage and spat out words. "You don't want to hear this, but it's not me. I am out there pushing that rock up that hill for eternity. Your stats aren't able to accurately account for the punishment of that. Look in order to come up with the PA stat for the Pre-BC section of Hades, err Hell, sorry, old habits, you had to create a base line, and when you calculated the punishment quotient of say, Tantalus, you're completely skewing my numbers. If you look at the punishment per annum stat, you can see that i'm one of the most punished in the unit."
The younger man picks the clipboard up and begins to flip through the pages. He finds one and begins to read to himself. His lips so slightly moving along with words.
"Do you see?"
"Hmm?" The younger man looks up from the clip board and places it back on the desk.
"Were you looking at the per annum stats, showing how punished i really am?"
"No. I was looking over your file. Impressive. You conned how many gods? You do have a way with words. So anyway, how about increasing your stats?"
The older man's brow furrowed. His lips pursed. His words were delivered slowly and deliberately. "I push a rock up a hill everyday. That rock, before reaching the top, always rolls down to the bottom, of the hill."
"...but, but we just want to help you get that rock to the top, buddy!"
"It's...not...getting...to...the...top. That's the punishment. Inherent in the nature of what i am doing is exactly what is preventing me from meeting your metric. Your calculation makes sense for Tantalus. He's chained up in reach of water and food, yet he's starving and dehydrating because they recede when he reaches for them."
"We're not talking about other people. Look Sisyphus, don't worry about what everyone else is doing. You're here to push that rock to the top of the hill. That's not so hard, now is it? We just want you to focus on one rock at a time!"
"There...is...only...one...rock."
"We can change that! Let's think positive. I really think you can turn these numbers around, and start getting some of those rocks to the top of that hill!"
"Ok. You got it, boss. Are we done here? That rock isn't going to push itself."
"Yeah, we're done. And thanks for all you do."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)