Heart attack
I worked for a total oxygen thief. I mean, the kind of cnut that you resent for using air you might want to use for something useful.

Our relationship deteriorated the day I told him to fuck off. This was the day he told me that he'd made it his work to "break my spirit". Not the best way to win friends and influence people, that. Fortunately for me, I was more useful and productive than him - so the five times he tried to fire me and failed became more amusing for me and more stressful for him. However, this story does not concern me but a colleague.

It was review time. That wonderful, festive time of year when you get to compare your idea of your performance with your boss'. It usually goes like "I think I deserve a raise and possibly a promotion", while boss says "I think you are underqualified to clean the toilets". Then the salary negotiations begin. Ahh, happy times.

So there's this guy. I shan't name him here, so let's call him Negil. This is an American company, an American boss and he's a Brit. A clever Brit. Our friendly boss doesn't like clever, and doesn't like non-Americans. So our hero hasn't started the review well. (bear in mind that I, too, have been called "too clever for my own good", am a Brit, and I'm going in after Negil...).

Just to set the scene, Negil has put on quite a bit of weight, what with American portion control and all. So he's not in brilliant health.

Negil goes in with boss for his review. It's not going well. So poorly, in fact, that the shouting can be heard from quite a way away. Peeking through the blinds reveals both of them standing up, red in the face shouting at each other. Boss is shaking his fist. Then Negil stops shouting. Peeking through the blinds again reveals the worst, most cold-blooded scene I have ever witnessed in business.

Negil is lying on the floor, turning blue. Boss is standing over him, still haranguing him and shaking his fist. Negil is having a heart attack. A genuine, call-the-fucking-ambulance heart attack. We burst into the room and one of the secretaries started giving Negil CPR while I called 911. Only when she started the pump-pump-pump-BLOW did the boss stop shouting at Negil.

Negil was out for four months, after a quadruple bypass operation. He came back to work much reduced in both spunkiness and size. His spirit was broken.

Later that year, in a rare case of karma, after attempting to fire me the fifth time, boss was fired for cause. He lost his pension, his wife and his career.

I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. Waste-of-flesh wanker.
(lustfish, Fri 25 Jan 2008, 0:38, 3 replies)

have a *click*
if only for reminding me of the phrase 'wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire'
(spidrak, Fri 25 Jan 2008, 2:13, closed)

I've always wondered about that phrase...
Surely if you hate someone that bad, it's great to piss on them! It's like you're on fire...AND YOU'RE GETTING PISSED ON. Take that! As such, it's a bit less snappy but - "I WOULD piss on you, but will take great care not to extinguish any flames upon your person whilst I do."
(bacontrout got ska, Fri 25 Jan 2008, 15:56, closed)

The bastard boss
I suppose you're right; there would be a great deal of satisfaction in pissing on him, but you'd have to weigh that against the danger of extinguishing the flames...

Perhaps it would be better said as "I would definitely masturbate over your crisped corpse and shit on the remains". That about describes the love I have for this guy.

You know, it is quite therapeutic venting here... :)
(lustfish, Fri 25 Jan 2008, 18:52, closed)