Training the boss

A boss must be willing to take on and accomplish every chore they would delegate to an employee. But do bosses know how to do everything as well as the employees?
At the Fat Frantic Times, you should see the whenever the boss undertakes to, say, optimize the operating system of the computer.
“I’ve told you guys a thousand times you’ve got to set those folders and files up properly on the hard drive to keep this baby humming,” breezes Jim as, manual in hand, he struts toward the master terminal.
“Quick, everybody, back up your files to diskettes. He’s going to toast the hard drive again,” screams the editor as he pulls at his hair and envisions his two-week vacation going up in smoke with the hard drive.
The point is, bosses have to be taught.
Down in Hooterville with Frank and Jesse (the James Boys), Jesse was becoming increasingly agitated as blow after feeble blow with the 16-pound sledge failed to budge the bead on the monster skidder tire.
“Here, let me show you how a man does this,” Jesse snorted in disgust as he grabbed the sledge and wound up for a mighty swing at the tire.
“Stand back, he’s a wild man,” warned partner, Frank, as Jesse looped the sledge in a wide arc through the air and down towards the tire.
Undoubtedly if the sledge had connected with the tire, the bead would have popped with that mighty swing. But Jesse, being a mite out of practice, missed and the hammer sailed down through the middle of the tire to the floor several feet below.
Not a big deal, except Jesse forgot to let go of the sledge and just naturally followed it, head first down through the centre of the tire.
Jesse landed rear end up, legs flailing, with unintelligible roars echoing from the centre of the tire demanding assistance. Unfortunately, they were drowned out by the peels of laughter from the audience.
“Eee-yew! I guess we’d better go to the CafĂ© for a coffee,” was the best Jesse could mutter to Frank, through is pouting lips, after he was safely right end up again. I don’t think he’s picked up a hammer since.
At Leon DeLogger’s, training the boss is left to veteran tinkerer, Pipewrench Pete.
“Nope, Leon’s not around and bein’ as it’s Friday, I don’t expect him back ’til late,” offered Pipewrench as he deftly rolled up another smoke and his tongue darted out to lick the paper.
“How so?” I asked.
“Wallll, I had a kinda explain t’ him if he wanted to keep them young whipper-snappers on the job on Fridays, he had ta ride herd on ’em ’til the last dog wuz hung.
“If he left the bush at one o’clock, every radio would be shut off by 1:03 and thur’d be a convoy of pickups headed to town by 1:05. She’s human nature,” explained Pipewrench Pete as he struck a match and ducked his head to fire up the twisted end of the fresh cigarette.
“‘Course he could be out early. They had a couple of real dirty jobs to do that’d normally take a week to finish. Told ’em to tell the crew about ’em Friday mornin’ and offer they could go home as soon as they wuz finished,” continued Pipewrench as the mosquitoes that had been buzzing around his head dropped like stones from the wreath of pungent smoke now swirling around his head.
“‘Spect they were finished by noon,” he mused, turning back to his job–an inch of ash hanging delicately from the cigarette stub that dangled and danced from his lip.
Pipewrench Pete concluded his observations as he again reached for his tobacco pouch, “Trainin’ the boss has been quite a chore.”

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