Through the pitch-black night, the captain sees a light dead ahead on a collision course with his ship. He sends a signal: "Change your course ten degrees east." The light signals back: "Change yours, ten degres west." Angry, the captain sends: "I'm a Navy captain! Change your course, sir!" "I'm a seaman, second class," comes the reply. "Change your course, sir." Now the captain is furious. "I'm a battleship! I'm not changing course!" There's one last reply. "I'm a lighthouse. Your call."
A man flying in a hot air balloon suddenly realizes he’s lost. He reduces height and spots a man down below. He lowers the balloon further and shouts to get directions, "Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?" The man below says: "Yes. You're in a hot air balloon, hovering 30 feet above this field." "You must work in Information Technology," says the balloonist. "I do" replies the man. "How did you know?" "Well," says the balloonist, "everything you have told me is technically correct, but It's of no use to anyone." The man below replies, "You must work in management." "I do," replies the balloonist, "But how'd you know?" "Well", says the man, "you don’t know where you are or where you’re going, but you expect me to be able to help. You’re in the same position you were before we met, but now it’s my fault."
By the time a Marine pulled into a little town, every hotel room was taken. "You've got to have a room somewhere," he pleaded. "Or just a bed, I don't care where." "Well, I do have a double room with one occupant, a Navy guy," admitted the manager, "and he might be glad to split the cost. But to tell you the truth, he snores so loudly that people in adjoining rooms have complained in the past. I'm not sure it'd be worth it to you." "No problem," the tired Marine assured him. "I'll take it." The next morning the Marine came down to breakfast bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "How'd you sleep?" Asked the manager. "Never better." The manager was impressed. No problem with the other guy snoring, then?" "Nope, I shut him up in no time." Said the Marine. "How'd you manage that?" asked the manager. "He was already in bed, snoring away, when I came in the room," the Marine explained. "I went over, gave him a kiss on the cheek, said, 'Goodnight, beautiful,' and he sat up all night watching me."
Office executive "Sir, can I have a day off next week to visit my mother-in-law?" Boss "Certainly not!" Office executive "Thank you so much sir! I knew you would be understanding."
After a 2 year study, the National Science Foundation announced the following results on America's ball-related recreational preferences: The sport of choice for unemployed or incarcerated people is basketball. The sport of choice for maintenance level employees is bowling. The sport of choice for blue-collar workers is football. The sport of choice for supervisors is baseball. The sport of choice for middle management is tennis. The sport of choice for corporate officers is golf. Conclusion: The higher you rise in the corporate structure, the smaller your balls become.
All the organs of the body were having a meeting, trying to decide who was the one in charge. "I should be in charge," said the brain, "Because I run all the body's systems, so without me nothing would happen." "I should be in charge," said the blood, "Because I circulate oxygen all over so without me you'd waste away." "I should be in charge," said the stomach," Because I process food and give all of you energy." "I should be in charge," said the legs, " ;because I carry the body wherever it needs to go." "I should be in charge," said the eyes, "Because I allow the body to see where it goes." "I should be in charge," said the rectum, "Because Im responsible for waste removal." All the other body parts laughed at the rectum and insulted him, so in a huff, he shut down tight. Within a few days, the brain had a terrible headache, the stomach was bloated, the legs got wobbly, the eyes got watery, and the blood Was toxic. They all decided that the rectum should be the boss. The Moral of the story? Even though the others do all the work... The ass hole is usually in charge.
An organization is like a tree full of monkeys, all on different limbs at different levels. The monkeys on top look down and see a tree full of smiling faces. The monkeys on the bottom look up and see nothing but assholes.
I'm not usually one to tell someone how to do their job, which is probably why my promotion to management only lasted a week.
A man goes inside a pet shop and starts to move around the cages to scout the pets. He sees a monkey with a price of 5000$ and goes to the merchant to ask for details. Hey mister, the monkey…what does it know to worth that much money? Well, it knows Windows 95, 98, 2000, and also knows Word, C++, Visual Basic and last but not least, it knows how to play computer games. - Good monkey, it's worth the money. He goes and finds another monkey with a price of 10000$ and again he will ask the merchant. "What does this monkey know?" "It knows Linux, Unix, Corel and Autocad." "Nice, even I don't know those things." On a last scout run he finds another monkey just sitting there with a price 20000$. The story repeats, and he goes with a lack of confidence to ask the merchant for details. "And what does this monkey do for that ridiculous amount of money?" "I never saw her doing anything, but the other two call her Project Manager!"
The game of choice for unemployed people or maintenance level workers is basketball. The game of choice for frontline workers is football. The game of choice for middle management is tennis. The game of choice for CEOs and executives is golf. Conclusion: The higher up on the corporate ladder you are, the smaller your balls are.