Lady Arabella Snark, Honorary Chair of IYBD 2009

"Wouldn't it be easier to kill my boss?"

Lady Snark addresses a burning question from Bob in Haverhill, Massachusetts.

Dear Lady Snark,

I work in sales at a large office supply company. I hate my job and I’m thinking of killing my boss, who is the biggest asshole that ever lived. I have fantasies about it almost every day. This morning, I spent an hour daydreaming about stapling him to death. Then it occurred to me that he probably wouldn’t die. Staples are really small, and he probably wouldn’t even bleed to death if I did it on Friday night and left him in the conference room over the weekend, which is what I was thinking of. Then I’d get fired instead and I think it would probably be really hard for me to get another job. Do you know any surefire ways to kill someone without being discovered? Or should I quit?

Bob

Haverhill, MA

My Dear,

Actually, it’s entirely possible to staple someone to death. (For best results, use industrial grade 7/8" staples and start at the base of the neck.) But trust me, that is not the optimal method for evading detection from law enforcement. Since accidental stapler injuries generally involve far fewer than 500 staples, exsanguinations by this method may be considered “suspicious.”

However, I think you have missed the point of working, which can be a truly delightful experience if you do it right. (As can stapling someone to death.)

Killing your boss is only fun for an instant. However, work gives you a daily opportunity to debase and humiliate people who cannot escape you, including your boss. Demoralizing him with insults until he can’t take it anymore and cuts off his own head with the paper trimmer has the twin advantages of being more fun and much less likely to put you in prison.

“Insult my boss! What if I get fired?” you might ask. Unlike staples, insults leave no mark—at least none visible to the Division of Unemployment, who will be paying your rent for the next six months while you drink Mai Tais in your underwear and catch up on One Life to Live. Enjoy!

Cordially,

Lady Arabella Snark

P.S. Your boss is not the biggest asshole that ever lived. That would have been my supervisor at the Kit Kat Burlesque Klub in Fargo, who died mysteriously after bleeding to death from industrial grade staple wounds. Forensic medicine was less advanced in those days.