Mondays suck for most people, but are even harder if you hate your job and/or your boss. If you’re reading this using your workplace Wi-Fi because it’s the very least that goddamned place/a-hole owes you, I have some great news. Things could be worse; American television host Steve Harvey could be your boss.
Harvey – who’s mates with Donald Trump and has been the butt of many SNL skits - sent an email to his staff last week, claiming that he’s tired of being “ambushed” at work. Not by terrorist groups, but by the people whose livelihoods depend on them asking him questions and delivering his desires, which is why he hired them, aka his staff.
Harvey laments in his email that it’s impossible for him to walk around the set of his tv show, or chillax in his dressing room without being accosted by his pesky underlings. He warns: “My security team will stop everyone from standing at my door who have the intent to see or speak to me.” Obviously he thinks he’s Tony Soprano at the Bada Bing.
While at first it may appear as a blessing to be forbidden from speaking to your boss, it probably does make the doing of your job a tad difficult. The entire email is gloriously counter-productive, without a #teamwork to be seen. And that’s exactly why, as you read it, you can’t help but feel excited, knowing that you are reading the words of an enraged megalomaniac.
Which is also why I find them thoroughly inspiring. I think we could all use some of this Harvey-level badass boundary-drawing, not just at work, but with our partners and kids, too.
My son turned 10 yesterday - yes, on Mother’s Day – he’s the gift that keeps on giving. As I surrendered my Mother’s Day right to a sleep in to pay him attention on his special day, I realised that I’ve been putting up with this kid stealing my limelight and distracting me from living my best life, for a decade.
Well, there’s gonna be some changes around here. I’m Harvey-ing up. I’ve re-worded his email, and I’ve sent it to my son:
Good morning. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.
You’re 10, and today, shit gets real.
There will be NO MORE meetings in my bedroom or when I’m in the bathroom. No stopping by or popping in.
Do not come to me unless invited. Do not open my bedroom door. IF YOU OPEN MY DOOR, EXPECT TO BE REMOVED.
I want all the AMBUSHING to stop now. I hate being ambushed. I’ve bought you a bell to wear around your neck so I have due warning of your presence in my home and I can prepare to escape.
Do not wait in any hallway to speak to me. You must schedule an appointment. I promise you I will not entertain you in the hallway, and do not attempt to walk with me.
I have been taken advantage of by my lenient policy in the past, from your birth until and including the age of 9. This ends now. NO MORE. No matter what the legislation says.
I am now seeking more free time for me throughout the day and every night. I will no longer be answering questions and teaching you stuff. Take some responsibility and JFGI it.
I will henceforth also refuse to watch self-directed plays and/or concerts that have not FIRST been extensively rehearsed, scripted and shown to a test audience.
I can NO LONGER be the role model that parenting experts and society expects me to be. Waiting until you fall asleep to stuff my hypocritical face with chocolate, and pretending to have a healthy relationship with alcohol – I REFUSE to keep doing that shit for another TEN YEARS.
And I will no longer refrain from cheating when I’m the banker in Monopoly. I’d like to win for once. You need to learn what banks are really like, anyway.
Do not take offense to the new way of doing business. It is for the good of my personal life and enjoyment and literally has nothing to do with you.
Merci beaucoup (JFGI if you don’t get that)
Your mother (in title only)