Office Narc BEATDOWN
You remember those kids on the playground who used to witness one kid pushing another kid and felt it was immediately necessary to tell the teacher when you got back from recess? Of course you do, because he is more than likely the reason your dad kicked your ass that night when you got home. And, deservedly, you transferred said ass-kicking onto said tattle-tale the next day. Well, unfortunately, those ass-kickings were not fatal, and that kid grew up. And now he, or more often she, works with you. Maybe in the office next door, maybe in the cube you share a wall with, or maybe in a different department altogether. But no matter where they are, they are watching how much time you spend on the phone, what you’re looking at on your computer, and what time you get to and leave work. Even though, technically, their job title is “Payroll Clerk.”
Some narcs grow up to be cops, where they get paid to get other people in trouble. And while I am no fan of police, at least you can say that it is their job. So they have found their true calling. But when you are a middle-management systems analyst, there is no part of your job description that says “Time co-workers personal phone calls and report total to supervisor.” There is not one part of being a marketing assistant that requires informing HR when someone leaves at quarter to five. And I did not take one class in business school called, “Telling The Boss Your Cube-Mate is Stealing Staples 429.”
Yeah, I’m not perfect. I’m late sometimes. I’m on the internet A LOT. I make personal long-distance phone calls from my office. I take post-it notes with me at the end of the day. And you know what? Nobody cares. Nobody, that is, except the narc. We have a narc at the gym. She tells me every time one of the hourly people is late and doesn’t write it on their time sheet. She tells me about all the mistakes the owner makes. And she often tells me how she knows every aspect of my job inside and out, and why can’t I do my job as well as she does. I can’t even imagine what she says to my boss. My hourly employees should thank her for her belligerence, since I systematically ignore her advice on their tardiness just to spite her.
Here’s a crazy fucking concept: I do my job, you do yours. Don’t worry about what I’m doing, because if it really is all that bad I’ll get caught eventually and probably fired. And if it’s not that big a deal? Then business will go on as usual since nobody seems to be getting too hurt by my perusing Orbitz for airfare to Sacramento. I guess it must just get your goat to no end that I can do the same job as you and still manage to fuck off all the time, doesn’t it? Well, deal with it. I never point out the fact that you are 20 pounds overweight and working at a gym, you shouldn’t feel the need to tell my boss how much time I spend on craigslist. Capish?
It’s too bad ass-kickings are not socially acceptable after 5th grade. I think if Herman in accounting got taken out to the parking lot and roughed up a little by the guys who stroll in a little late after a rough night of drinking every time he mentioned it to the boss even though nobody else picked up on it, there would be a lot less intra-office tension. The problem with this, of course, is that 90% of the time the narcs are women. I will not speculate on why this is, but guys generally don’t seem to concern themselves with what their coworkers are doing. And women do. So perhaps each company could hire a former prostitute from Detroit whose express job it is to beat the living shit out of every busybody female who narcs on her coworkers (the guys can take care of each other). She’d probably work cheap, and the office peace would be worth the investment. Because while something like $400 billion dollars are lost each year by employees being late, surfing the internet, and stealing office supplies, I guarantee you the amount lost on worthless tattling is even higher.