 Don't skim or snitch in Carlos's office. Think the holiday season sucks in your office? It doesn’t compare to how bad it sucks in the office of Carlos Montalvinho, sometimes called the “worst boss in the world.” The Intergalactic Business Report gives you an unprecedented inside look at how Carlos celebrates the season with his team. YOUR OFFICE: Your boss forces everyone to do an “ugly Christmas sweater” day. Ugh. CARLOS MONTALVINHO’S OFFICE: Carlos forces everyone to take off their sweaters, undershirts, and all their clothes because he’s convinced someone’s skimming from him. And it’s like 30 degrees in the office because Carlos doesn’t see the point of heating the place. Ugh. YOUR OFFICE: It takes three hours for everyone to put up all the stupid Christmas decorations every year. CARLOS MONTALVINHO’S OFFICE: It takes three hours to put all the “product” Carlos wants you to move up everyone’s butts. And you’re pretty sure Juan didn’t tie the condoms very tight. YOUR OFFICE: As part of “tradition” you have to listen to a fake Santa read “The Night Before Christmas.” CARLOS MONTALVINHO’S OFFICE: As part of “tradition” you have to watch coked up Carlos recite his favorite lines from “Scarface.” One of them ends with an uncomfortable stare down between him and you after he asks if he could get a scar like his from eating pussy. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to answer or just say nothing, but he keeps screaming it at you. YOUR OFFICE: You have to work Christmas Eve. CARLOS MONTALVINHO’S OFFICE: You have to work on Christmas too. But you’re just assuming that since you work every day of the year and there are no clocks or calendars around. It could be Easter and Carlos is just fucking with you. YOUR OFFICE: You dread the office “Secret Santa” exchange. CARLOS MONTALVINHO’S OFFICE: You dread the office “who’s a snitch” ceremony where you have to convince Carlos that someone else (and not you) is a snitch, even though after years of sleep deprivation everyone has forgot what a snitch even is and have begun to think it’s like a Smurf and that Carlos really hates Smurfs. These five opening lines will ruin your presentation and make you look weak. Stop using them today.11/26/2018  Never open a presentation by telling everyone you're a pussy. You ooze confidence. You walk into a conference room and tell your colleagues, boss, and team about your proposal, and you’re sure they leave the meeting believing what you do: that you’re on your way to the top and no one can stop you. But did you realize your opening line stopped your presentation cold and gave everyone the impression that you don’t have confidence at all? The Intergalactic Business Report reveals the five everyday phrases you use that make you look unsuccessful and small when you share your ideas. Stop saying them now. 1. I’m the biggest pussy in the entire world. Look at me. 2. I’m a weak, weak, pussy. 3. I hate myself because I’m such a total pussy. 4. Anyone know what a gigantic pussy looks like? It looks exactly like me. Because I’m a gigantic pussy. 5. Someone told me once that I wasn’t a complete and total pussy. That guy was lying.  Oil prices. You read about them every day. They’re up, they’re down, they have something to do with “barrels” and people from the Middle East and also the t.v. show “Dallas.” One thing’s for certain. Someone thinks it’s important and that must mean it is. Unlike other business publications, the Intergalactic Business Report doesn’t just report on oil prices going up or down. We dig for the deeper truth behind why anyone takes the time to tell us that in the first place. What we’ve uncovered is truly mind-breaking and shorts-shitting. The oil prices you hear about all the time are controlled by just five people. Below, we profile them. 1. Abner Mularthy. Abner “controls” oil prices through a technique he calls “paneling.” This means he has cork board panels in his basement on which he sticks pictures of oil barrels, oil wells, and even petroleum jelly. If he stares at the panels long enough, he can either lower or raise oil prices by up to three cents a barrel.* 2. Phil Ratuliak. Phil is one of the oiliest men on the planet. His skin and hair appear covered in a greasy film at all times, even if he showers several times a day. Some** experts believe that examining Phil’s “oil level” is a sound predictor of oil futures. 3. Judy Hollensoffet. Judy tells everyone she knows that they should be cooking with extra virgin olive oil because it has a bunch of health benefits. She seriously won’t shut up about it. 4. Brett “deep fry” Bannon. Brett counteracts Judy by deep-frying everything he eats in whatever cheap crap he finds at Costco. If Judy can ever locate Brett, who is on the run and operates a food truck with several deep fryers inside, she will murder him and take her chances with the justice system. 5. Cindy Lindstrom. Cindy is saving herself for marriage, but only after she spends several years at an isolated nunnery in Switzerland. For this life plan, she is often referred to as an “extra virgin” which is similar to the olive oil. Obviously, she is an ally to Judy and a distinguished enemy of Brett. At some point, it’s expected there will be a final battle involving all three of them, but probably not Phil or Abner, since they don’t really fit in to that plotline. *This is according to Abner’s mom, who lives upstairs. **The margin of error on the number of experts needed to reach the number “some” is plus or minus 3.  "Restaurants" allow poor people to eat near rich people. Too near. Probably the worst hardship in my life is not what you’d think. Most people guess because I spend my time hanging out with the richest people on the planet, attending their parties, and usually getting laid, that my biggest challenge would be figuring out which party to go to next, which sick luxury car to borrow, or maybe even whose credit card to ask for so I can go shopping today. While all those take minutes of planning and sacrifice, what really pushes my boundaries is the insane amount of time I spend being a fucking therapist, life coach, and mentor to my needy, ultra-wealthy friends who seem to require endless attention and advice from me. Poor people like you (I’m just guessing) always miss the point when it comes to rich people unlike you. You think that if you have a mega yacht; fourteen huge mansions; a fucking stable of classic sports cars; tons of people who want to sleep with you; a private chef; a private personal trainer; horses that are in those fucking races on t.v.; know celebrities; have sex with celebrities; have your own air hangar; and just pay people to like you… I can’t even remember where I was going with this. Anyway, my friend Latushia (not her name but kind of rhymes with it. Actually, no it doesn’t) and I were having lunch at one of those places in California where other people are allowed to eat in the same area and it was making me kind of nervous. At one point, I made eye contact with one of the poor people at another table and it was as if his poorness was being laser-beamed onto me with his gaze. I think that’s what poor people do. They, like lepers, want to touch you and bring you into their poorness and misery. Maybe you (the reader) can write an article explaining that, since I’m so removed from that life and you are so very much in it. Latushia asked me what was wrong. Was I feeling ill? I told her that the other people around us were making me a little queasy and that they kept staring when I’d ask the waiter loudly if he could push some of their tables farther away from us because I could smell their fake perfumes and body odor. That’s when I realized how needy Latushia really was. Instead of comforting me, her loyal friend, she took the side of the intrusive lurkers around us. She scolded me for considering myself above them and she gave me some bullshit about how money didn’t matter and that I had all my “priorities” out of whack and some other nonsense about morality and blah blah blah. You can probably guess what I did next, because it’s what anyone would do. It’s what you would do if you weren’t so poor and stinky. I calmly, but violently, lifted the table and turned it over, smashing all the glassware, gold infused coffee, and food I ordered just to look at but not to eat. She sprung up like some mythical creature that jumps up out of fear when glasses and food fall on it. I, again calmly, stood and explained to her these three things: 1. If you’re entertaining a friend for lunch and he’s not paying for anything, you’d better be prepared to shut your mouth long enough to keep it closed so he can talk. Latushia forgot that rule and suffered the consequences. 2. If you invite a friend to lunch, make sure you also don’t invite a hundred poor people to be nearby and stare at you. That’s what they used to call “unacceptable” and worthy of banishment. 3. Stop constantly whining about your own troubles. Let me have one day where I don’t need to hold your hand and take care of you. Next time, it won’t be a table I turn over. It will be everyone’s table, even if I have to accidentally touch a poor person. Even in my anger and rage, I controlled myself and was classy. That’s what separates me from basically the whole of humanity on this planet and probably many others. But even as I lectured Latushia about her shortcomings and rudeness, I realized that I was actually teaching her something, just as I am constantly teaching all my ultra-rich friends. I guess the moral of this story is that they need me much more than I need them, and that I take crap all the time just to make them happy and make their lives even better. I finally left the restaurant and thought about burning it down on my way out, but I didn’t have matches or a lighter and I assumed it would take too much time to figure out how to ignite the whole place. My time is too valuable and I needed to move on to the next sick party, helicopter ride, or orgy where I was sure to spend my time imparting knowledge and wisdom to yet more needy wealthocrats. Maybe someday one of them will get it, but it’s doubtful. I’m out. The résumé is dead. Here are 8 alternatives innovative companies are using to hire instead.11/14/2018  Prepare to do corporate-safe stand up comedy where you explain what your tattoos mean. What’s a résumé anyway? A piece of paper with some crap you made up written on it. Today’s most innovative companies understand that and are coming up with new ways to really test whether job applicants are a good fit for their culture. The Intergalactic Business Report spent hours speaking with top hiring managers who are changing the way they hire. So toss out your résumé and be prepared to do one of the following eight things: 1. Three minute “stand up” sets with jokes about the company that are super funny, but also follow the brand message and don’t insult any products, people, or are offensive in any way. 2. Felatio. 3. You explain what all your tattoos mean. 4. Applicants do a “one man” stage show of their lives. 5. Two minute “beat down” sessions, where current employees attack potential employees for one hundred twenty seconds in a conference room. Then they rate the applicant’s attitude during the assault. 6. “Ghost” pottery sessions where your potential boss sits behind you while you create a bowl or something on the wheel. 7. Unsanctioned psychological tests where you walk into an interview and they tell you to kill someone or you will be killed. 8. Controlled circle jerks with referees.  Yes, your boss sucks. He doesn’t understand work-life balance. She’s impossible to talk to and kills your creativity. But before you whine further about how your boss makes life a living hell, compare your plight to employees of the “worst boss in the world,” Carlos Montalvinho. YOUR BOSS: Makes you feel guilty if you leave before six o’clock. CARLOS MONTALVINHO: Makes you sleep in a bunk in the back room with six other dudes who you’re not allowed to speak with or you’ll be murdered. So you walk back there in silence, every night, trying not to make eye contact, and curl up in your tiny bed that could have been designed for sailors in the 18th century on some horrible ship that ended up getting frozen in the Antarctic. YOUR BOSS: Can’t seem to separate your work life from your personal life. Sends you emails on weekends. Schedules “fun” work activities on Saturdays that aren’t fun and are all work. CARLOS MONALVINHO: Doesn’t recognize there is such a thing as a weekend. You just have to work all day and then sleep in that room with the six other dudes. Is it Saturday? Who knows, because Carlos doesn’t let anyone in the office look at clocks or calendars. Am I fifty years old already? Or am I twenty-six? Again, you have no idea and never will. YOUR BOSS: Pulls you into her office for uncomfortable “one on one” meetings where she yells at you for making a typo. CARLOS MONTALVINHO: Has guys with neck tattoos escort you to his office where you sit down and he just stares at you to see if you’ve been stealing or lying to him. You can’t speak because Carlos is convinced he has the ability to sense your loyalty and honesty simply by using his creepy stare. As he gazes upon you in judgment, you hear people behind you cocking pistols, snapping garrotes, and preparing plastic bags that will fit over your head. YOUR BOSS: Holds awkward office holiday parties where you sing happy birthday to some secretary you don’t even know. Then you can’t leave because if you’re the first one to go, she acts really pissy and makes a speech about how some people don’t have “team spirit” and leave parties early. CARLOS MONTALVINHO: Organizes monthly parties designed to “reward” his workers. These consist of nasty prostitutes and drugs no one wants to take but does so that Carlos isn’t pissed off. While all this is happening, you have no idea what time it is or how old you are. YOUR BOSS: Gives you bi-yearly performance reviews, which she uses to point out all your faults and gives you a half-hearted pep talk about how you have so much potential but aren’t realizing it. CARLOS MONTALVINHO: Flat out murders you if your production level is off by even a micro infinitesimal fraction of a number you don’t know or understand. YOUR BOSS: Gets pissed if you take too long of a lunch or arrive at work even five minutes late. CARLOS MONTALVINHO: Makes you wear a shock collar that zaps you if you oversleep or wander beyond your fifteen by fifteen foot work station. |
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