Terry Gaither Advice is a sponsored advice column in which Mr. Gaither lends his own advice and wisdom from his twenty years of working in the professional field on Wall Street and his last six years working from his cell in a maximum security, 24-hour watch mental facility.
“Dear Terry,
My boss seems to be getting chummy with everyone in the office…except for me. I haven’t minded until I realized business decisions were being made in their down time. What am I to do?
Eee!,
Typical Taylor”
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. For the love of God, people, do NOT give me these gender-ambiguous names. Clearly, the name ‘Terry’ is no exception, which is probably why I hate that name and any other androgynous name so much, but please, I hate those names so much. So, so much. I’ve never met not one person with such a name and been impressed with anything about them. It’s just too much effort to even process what it is they’re trying to put in your head, you’re too busy imagining them in (if male) in girl clothes or (if female) with even more facial hair.
Also, just technically speaking on what it is I do, it’s hard to give gender-neutral advice. Frankly, what’s good for the goose is not always good for the gander. I don’t know which is which, but really, geese are horrid, terrible, vicious creatures in general. Much like you, Taylor.
Now Talyor-Woman, here’s what I would do were I in your ill-fitting shoes: go nuts. Seriously, you should just do that whichever is most erratic at any given time. Smash someone’s coffee mug to the ground while walking past, grinning from ear to ear. Walk in a strict straight line all day, climbing over cubicle walls and desks from room to room. If the walls are that thin dry-wall material, bust right through. This will attract enough attention to make sure that any important decision is not made without your knowing as no decisions will be made other than God, what are we going to do about this female wrecking ball?!
Taylor-Man: You’re clearly not liked. Go ahead and punch people in the groin as early and often as possible. You’re going nowhere but out the door anyway. Swing away. But make sure you land some punches, because with a name like Taylor, people are expecting quite a limp wrist.
“Terry!
Is Wal-Mart the financial juggernaut everyone thinks it is? All of my friends are making money hands-over-fist by investing in the company, even in the recession! Is this a go or no-go?
YEAH!,
Enthusiastic Eric”
Go or no-go on Wal-Mart? I would go…screw yourself. Both of those answers yield the same screwing result. On the one hand, Wal-Mart is a company hellbent on the destruction of every mom-and-pop store and fledgling flea market from coast to coast, underpaying their staffs and slicing prices on products that in all honesty should be banned from the market or at least given away for nothing. That’s a company I can get behind.
But on the otherhand, it is a store that breeds the worst sort of people in the world: Everyone. Business executives short on socks on a business trip rush in, and without slipping or breaking their precious white-collar necks, are surprised to find its quality somewhat bearable. You also have people who live in houses sold by Wal-Mart living near or, hey, sometimes in Wal-Mart. Those are my kind of people, too, for certain, but only if they’re willing to do certain favors for me in exchange for money. I’m not talking about sex, you idiots. I’m talking about murder.
So go or no-go? Find some alochol to invest in, and reap immediate benefits.
“Dear Terry,
I work so much, I haven’t found much time for hobbies. But lately, I’m so restless that I’m willing to try some new things. Got any advice on some new favorite pasttimes?
Best,
Calvin Carryall”
Oh, yeah. Me? Recreational advice? Sure, I’ve got a lot of advice in that area, you know, what with my extensive experience of getting to be outdoors without a court-ordered tranquilizing sniper within 20 feet of me. You could play frisbee with yourself in a tree, launching yourself off the highest branch and letting your neck catch your fall. Maybe you can practice being a tattoo artist on yourself! All you need is a colorful plastic toothbrush and open flame! Those should be readily accessible to you, right? If physical activity is too much for you, hows about some drugs. Drugs too costly? Hows about drinking some industrial-strength detergent. Detergent too clean? Slam your fingers in a car door repeatedly, and stop asking me questions.
Those were all my favorite past times, anyway.
ZACK STOVALL 