Author: The Centaur

I’m pleased to finally release the English version of a modern classic. “Un Dia Con Thomas Manchild” (A Day with Thomas Manchild) has been translated for an English audience, uncut and without subtitles.

Again, these are the actual drawings and storyline I turned in for my junior year Spanish project. Looking back on my work, I’m delighted to see the story is still relevant for today’s audiences. In certain parts of the story, I decided to add my own director’s commentary in italics. Enjoy.

My friend is named Thomas Manchild. Thomas is very strong and rich. Thomas is suave, and has lots of muscles because he drinks milk.

(Unfortunately, this scan failed to capture the detail of Thomas’s house from the original drawing. It is a hacienda style mansion, with marble pillars. Somehow, it works. And looking back, I can’t believe I failed to include flamingos and other exotic animals frollicking on the grounds. It was a huge oversight.)
Thomas lives on the beach. Thomas’s house is very big and his house has a swimming pool. Thomas is 25 years old.

(Please note that this drawing was created prior to my ownership of the MR2. Eerie. Also, note the logo of “Manchild Enterprises” on the side of the car. To this day, I still use “Manchild Enterprises” as my imaginary corporation whenever I register software or enter a drawing to win free sub sandwiches.)
Thomas’s car is very big and expensive. Thomas has lots of money, but he never works. Thomas is never afraid, because he is always successful. He is very lucky.

In the winter, Thomas goes to Las Vegas. He stays in a hotel called Caesar’s Palace. In the hotel, Thomas plays a game of cards.

Thomas is lucky in the game, and he wins a lot of money. After the game, Thomas goes to a restaurant because he is hungry. The restaurant is named Planet Hollywood.

In the restaurant, Thomas sees a woman. The woman is very beautiful.

“Hello,” Thomas said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she said, “would you like to drink a beer with me?”
“No, I don’t like beer,” Thomas said. “I drink milk, because I need to grow big and formidable.”
“I see,” she said, “I need to go to my husband now.”
“Very good,” Thomas said, “I’ll see you later.”

Afterwards, Thomas was tired. He went back to his hotel because he needed rest. That night, Thomas was lucky with the cards, but he was unlucky with the ladies.

(Riveting story line. Beautiful women. The backdrop of Vegas. This short story should have been made into a movie. Couldn’t you see Vince Vaughn in the role of me, er, Thomas Manchild? My teacher thought otherwise… I think I got a B+ on this. Clearly, I’m still outraged about it.)

And if you stumbled onto this post, and it makes no sense whatsoever, start here:

Like many of you working in an office somewhere, I am given an endless amount of busy work and meaningless projects so that my boss can justify being a boss. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not his fault. It’s just the way the system works.

In turn, I avoid doing most of this work through a process of procrastination, mild insubordination, and apathy. This is also how the system works. And most of the time, the office hierarchy is in harmony.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way. I used to actually do my job. Then one day I noticed that the project my boss needed done immediately sat on his desk for a month before he even looked at it. And at that moment, was borne the Laws of Working in an Office…

The First Law of Working in an Office:
By definition, any work your boss assigns to you is of little or no importance whatsoever. Logically, this makes sense. By giving a project to you, the boss has deemed it too tedious, too trivial or too low a priority to deal with himself.

While it may seem disheartening to learn that most of your assigned work is absolutely inconsequential, there is a tremendous upside to this…

The Second Law of Working in an Office:
There is an old saying in business, “If you want something done right, do it yourself.” Therefore, by delegating assignments, your boss is indirectly implying that he doesn’t care if the work is done right. Otherwise, he’d do it himself. Taking it a step further, your boss probably doesn’t care if is or done on time, either. And frankly, I doubt he really cares if it is even done at all.

Indeed, these laws can be very liberating. However, I can’t instantly dismiss everything that is assigned to me as a complete waste of time and energy. Occasionally, there is actually something worthwhile that needs doing. Being able to tell the difference is the key to being a selectively productive employee.

When assigned a new project, always feign a positive outlook. Give every indication that you share your boss’s enthusiasm for this BS. But don’t actually do anything yet. Even though your boss has given you a massive amount of work to do, pretend that the ball is still in his court.

Now begins the waiting game. At this point, your job is to merely wait for him to follow up with a question on the project’s status. If you’re lucky, he’ll never mention it again, meaning it obviously wasn’t worth doing in the first place. Pat yourself on the back; your investment in procrastination has reaped massive dividends.

Unfortunately, it won’t always be that easy. Even if he does bring up the project a second time it still doesn’t necessarily mean that any actual work will take place. You’ve just got to handle the situation tactfully. Thankfully, I have a proven system for just such an occasion.

I call it the “Just Say No” method. I borrowed the name from the anti-drug abuse ads from the ‘80’s, since it works in the same manner. Essentially, if someone tries to get you to do work, Just Say NO.

Imagine your boss wandering over. Initially, the conversation centers on sports or some other pedestrian topic. Pleasantries aside, he soon reveals the real motivation for his visit:

My Boss: “Centaur, are you working on the cash flow project we talked about last week?”

Me: “No.”

If done correctly, your boss should be taken aback. Now, the trick here is to not say anything else. Don’t offer an excuse or explanation for your insolence. Be forewarned, there will be an awkward moment of silence and your boss will look at you to break it. Don’t. Just say the word “No” matter-of-factly and consider the issue resolved. Also, consider sipping your coffee or leaning back in your chair, as this is a subtle sign that your focus is elsewhere. Body language is everything!

You’re not out of the woods yet, as most bosses are very persistent. Remember, that’s how they made it to the top of the office food chain. And more often than not, they won’t settle for such a glib answer.

My Boss: “Did you read the emails I sent you regarding the priority of this project?”

Me: “Sort of.”

If possible, try and say this with a twinkle in your eye. It takes practice, but if you can develop a good twinkle, your insubordination will be construed as playful.

My Boss: “Well, the project is due at the end of the week… And I need to review your work and then the results need to be sent over to accounting for them to-”

Me: “Oh yeah, I’m aware of all of that.”

This is an important step. It’s critical to interrupt your boss in the middle of his sermon about how important this project is. Try and act like you know more than he does. But, you can’t just settle for a simple interruption. You must be dismissive as well.

And now, we’re at a fork in the road. If this was a truly meaningless assignment, you’ve officially called his bluff. Knowing he’s defeated, the only thing your boss can do at this point is to try and save face by leaving with a “Ok, we probably have more important things to do right now anyway… but try and work on this in your free time.”

If this happens, be gracious in victory.

Me: “Oh yeah. I’ll definitely take a look at this sometime next month.”

Both parties can leave with their heads held high, knowing this will never happen. In an understated way, your boss will actually respect you for more for not being intimidated into doing your job. Trust me.

Unfortunately, there is another way this could play out. It might not be a bluff. At this point, your boss could decide to reiterate the details and deadlines of this project. If that’s the case, it looks like you’ve got some legitimate work on your desk. The good news is that if this is a real assignment, at least you know for sure.

The Third Law of Working in an Office:
If you have positive confirmation that you’ve been given real work, sharpen your pencil, crack your knuckles and dominate the project. Seriously, the secret to office success is doing an outstanding job on the small fraction of projects actually worth doing, and totally neglecting the rest. If practiced over several years, this pattern of behavior will ultimately lead to a position in upper management.

So what happens to the rest of those tedious projects? Some will simply blow away, like dandelion spores. Others will get outsourced to India or something. As for the remainder…

The Fourth Law of Working in an Office:
If you develop a consistent reputation for refusing menial projects, they will gradually be assigned to others, namely the less-assertive people in the office. Go ahead and put your feet up, as there is no greater satisfaction than a job well done by someone else.

I’m not as young as I look. Or act. Or claim to be in chatrooms. The truth is, I’m actually going to attend my ten-year high school reunion this summer. As a tribute to the Ellensburg High School Class of ’96, I thought I would share a variety of high school experiences… starting with some memories from sophomore year Biology…

In a row we sat, The Captive Lion, Solo, and myself. Lecturing in front of us, a dispassionate biology teacher. I think you can imagine how the year went.

Keep in mind, we weren’t the type to throw spitballs. No, our form of rebellion was uninvited commentary throughout each lesson. Our teacher soon learned that he couldn’t just start a video and leave the room without some sarcastic praise of his teaching ability. And we made sure that homework wasn’t assigned, it was negotiated. Thankfully, our teacher really had no objection to his authority being undermined. As you can imagine, all of this made for a very memorable year…

Dissection:
Before there was Fear Factor, there was biology class.

First off, where do they find the grasshoppers for biology class dissection? These things were the size of a Thanksgiving turkey, smothered in formaldehyde gravy. Seriously, is there a real-life Land of the Lost that I’m not aware of?

Anyway, it was the Class of ’96 that proudly created the need to warn future classes about the dangers of eating your dissection project. We actually had a classmate bite the head off of a gigantic grasshopper as part of a bet. In his defense, grasshoppers are an excellent source of protein.

The Fetus:
There’s not much to this story, other than the fact that we had an actual fetus, in a Mason jar, stored in a display case in the back of the classroom. He was our unofficial mascot.

Extra-Credit Assignments:
As you might expect, extra-credit was very hard to come by, as that would generate more work for our teacher to grade. However, if you made a profound advancement in the field of science, he was usually willing to throw a few extra points your way.

Here are two actual suggestions he seriously pitched to us in class, neither of which were actually attempted by anyone:

Train your cat to pull a small wagon. In the beginning, it will border on animal cruelty. Over time though, your cat will theoretically learn to use that wagon to accomplish a variety of amazing tasks. Or, more likely, your cat will suffer a horrible wagon-related death.

Here’s another: Build a miniature microscope from items around the house. That’s right, he wanted unmotivated high school sophomores to build a homemade microscope. He stood before us, telling us how easily this could be done. First, you melt some glass. Then, you shape it into a perfect hyperbola. Or maybe it was a perfect parabola. Either way, there were 8,000 additional steps that followed. As you might have guessed, things that the Professor did in an episode of Gilligan’s Island were the inspiration for most of our extra-credit assignments.

The Biology Field Trip Death March:
First, I’ll answer the obvious question on your mind: No, the fetus didn’t get to come along on the field trip.

Everyone else got in a bus, and drove two hours into the Channeled Scablands. That’s right, The Scablands. Not only is “Scablands” the geographically correct term, but it also perfectly conveys the godforsaken nature of this Eastern Washington desert.

Have you ever noticed that while Disneyland has a Tomorrow Land, a Fantasy Land, and an Adventure Land it does not have an amusement area called Scabland? As such, you are correct to infer that the Scablands is not the happiest place on earth.

But yet, here we were, on a field trip to observe nature in its natural state. Unfortunately, it’s kind of hard to learn about ecosystems in the most uninhabitable place on earth. In the entire day, I think we saw one breed of plant: tumbleweed, and one breed of animal: rattlesnake.

Scratch that. We also saw vultures… lots and lots of vultures. They spent most of the afternoon circling above us as we trekked through the Scablands for seven hours on a sweltering day. Other than that, it was pretty uneventful. Oh, wait, I saw my ancestors too. That actually might have been a hallucination though. Somewhere along the way, the outing kind of morphed from a simple field trip into a vision quest.

The Insect Collection:
We were assigned to collect a diverse sample of insects. I got an “A” on my project, which was actually very difficult to do. Normally, you pretty much needed to go on an African safari and return with trophy-sized insects to ace it.

For the most part, my collection was unspectacular. I had a modest collection of bees, houseflies, ants, moths, and ladybugs. Basically, I pinned anything that could be picked off the front of your grill or windowsill onto a piece of cardboard and turned it in.

So how did I pull off such a high grade? I found a spider with the legspan of a CD on my parents’ porch. Naturally, I pinned it to the center of my collection. Of course, spiders technically aren’t insects, they’re arachnids. Apparently it was close enough, as my grade reflects. I sometimes wonder if I would have gotten a similar grade had I pinned a hummingbird or salamander to the center of my insect collection instead.

The Final Exam:
Most teachers don’t look at the final exam as a mere formality. Of course, I use the term “teacher” loosely, as ours was really more of a projectionist anyway. Fittingly, our final exam was thrown together from a sample of questions and multiple-choice answers that were written by students. Needless to say, it takes a really apathetic teacher to give a Final Exam in this manner. And as expected, the test was a total debacle. For instance, here’s one classic example:

Our galaxy is:
A. The Milky Way
B. Punkville
C. Mabton
D. B and C.

For the record, this question was proudly submitted by Solo.

Bonus Story: (Epilogue)
This same biology teacher happens to moonlight as a photographer. Last summer, we ran into him taking pictures at a friend’s wedding. He went to extraordinary lengths to insure that the Captive Lion and I were not included in any shot at the wedding. Of course, we picked up on this early on, and naturally we went to our own extraordinary lengths to get into every wedding shot possible.

Ultimately, we won. The Captive Lion’s elbow can clearly be seen in a shot of the couple going through the buffet line.

I would like to share the singular philosophy that guides me through life:

When life gives me lemons, I have my wife make me a glass of lemonade. Extra ice. And then I put my feet up and hope that life gives me the ingredients for a sandwich as well.

You could say that I am a very lazy optimist.

So, when the Zillionaire Homestead became infested with bees, I didn’t panic. I didn’t even blink. I merely dusted off the juicer and readied a clean glass, metaphorically speaking. The bees’ days were officially numbered. The only question was how best to eliminate them.

I considered using various poisons, but since I have a baby at home, and friends (Krusty, I’m looking at you) that will indiscriminately eat things off the floor, I thought better of it.

I pondered digging miniature tiger pits all over the yard.

I looked into flypaper. Ultimately, I had no desire to kill these bees in the most unsanitary way possible.

Finally, I began to use my brain. What animal eats bees? They must have a natural predator. I bought an anteater, thinking it would be close enough. It didn’t work out.

And then it hit me. Home Depot sells quality bee traps for six dollars. As you can see from the picture below, problem solved:

You are looking at a figurative glass of lemonade with extra ice. With these bees helplessly confined, I can now ponder ways to use their plight to enrich myself. Here are the ideas I’ve come up with so far:

• I could train them to fight each other to the death for the amusement of others. This seems like it could be the perfect undercard event to a cockfighting match.
• Maybe I can get a vapid quasi-celebrity to walk around with a well-groomed bee in her handbag. And voila, the bee would instantly replace the Chihuahua as a fashion accessory.
• I could single out the biggest specimen and take it to a taxidermist. But instead of having it stuffed, I’ll have it made into a rug.
• I could sell them as pets. Aren’t people sick of having pets that can’t fly and have fewer than six legs? I know I am.
• Maybe someone could use them as part of an amateur audition tape for Fear Factor. Seems like a worthy cause. Hell, I’ll even throw in some rotten dairy products as well.
• With this many agitated bees, it seems like I should be able to take the concept of a flea circus up a notch.
• Candy is so played-out on Halloween. What kid wouldn’t like a handful of bees?
• Maybe this could be a roadside attraction? I could charge travelers from the Midwest a dollar to let them take their kids’ picture next to the infamous bee trap. Naturally, using the bathroom would cost an extra dollar.

Finally, if you have a better idea, I’m willing to sell these bees directly to the general public. Simply send me a self-addressed stamped envelope and 25 dollars per bee for “handling” charges. Be sure to mark “FRAGILE” on the envelope though. And poke some holes in it too.