My bad, my review, my bonus
The fire was not my fault. And to my knowledge, it was never proved conclusively that the lighted cigarette and scented candles on my office desk were the cause.
Yes, I was asleep, but maybe let’s try to look at the positive part of this and the fact that I was working late. Why my pants were off also remains a mystery. The fire marshal said that it was nothing short of a miracle that I wasn’t killed, though he intimated in passing that the fact that I was profoundly drunk helped.
Why were pornographic websites up at the time I was found by rescue workers? This is a crucial question, and one my attorneys are looking into. I’m not remotely interested in man-on-camel Latvian porn (is anyone?) and don’t know why it was bookmarked. A practical joke by a mean-spirited co-worker? An intruder trying to frame me? These questions remain a mystery -- a mystery I hope doesn’t affect this performance review.
Once again, I’d like to apologize for the loss of the company’s mainframe. I hate to say I told you so, but I requested a cubicle away from that room for many months, as I have a condition that requires natural light and the basement is no place for me.
The Boeing account. I would agree with management that it is a tragedy that we lost the account. But to suggest that I was somehow responsible merely because I presented the “disasters” campaign is, to my mind, grossly unfair. I still believe safety is the No. 1 concern of many (most?) fliers, and the footage of airline crashes could have been powerful (and, in its own way, positive) for the company.
The phony news release. This also remains a mystery to me and my legal team. How an e-mail was sent from my computer to major news organizations saying the firm was changing its name to Penis Bros. is deeply confusing and frankly repugnant to me. Nor should our CEO ever have been referred to as “Barbara Pantywaist.” That’s not his name, for one, and two, what does that even mean?
Why did I bring an untrained monkey to work on “Bring Your Child to Work Day”? Because I thought it would be funny. It wasn’t funny. I rented the monkey that morning and had no idea the extent to which monkeys masturbate. I also have no idea how it got access to the main conference room. (If I may say, I honestly don’t think we would have gotten that business, even if the monkey hadn’t done what it did to Mr. Takemoto.)
State and federal officials, as well as the SEC, have asked how I got access to the company’s 401(k) plan and moved “massive amounts” (their words, not mine) to my personal account as well as into General Motors stock. Hackers? Computer whiz kids? Yes, there is security camera footage of me at my computer at precisely the time the transfers were made. Master-of-disguise hackers? Computer whiz kids who look like me? I’m saying it’s possible.
The gun thing. (I can’t believe we’re rehashing that.) For the 10th time, it wasn’t my gun. I didn’t know it was loaded. And I was joking with Phil when I said, “I hate your scum guts, and I’m going to kill you.” A fluke that the gun went off. Six times.
You’ll see in the attached self-evaluation that I have given myself a five (the highest grade), as well as drawing a small picture of Mohandas K. Gandhi, someone whom, had I lived during his time, I think I would have been close friends with, as I love walking, lightweight clothing and I generally loathe the British. Knowing that our firm has accepted government money, I would happily forgo receiving a bonus now to take part in the program to reroute bonuses to offshore accounts.
In spite of these curious setbacks, I believe my performance this year merits an exceptional review.
