Please Don’t Misinterpret My Inflammatory Remarks

What Ralph Gamelli said may have sounded offensive, but you simply did not understand his message.


It’s become disturbingly clear that many of you seem incapable of grasping office politics, or the subtleties of the aggressive rhetoric that goes along with it.

For instance, last week I said that Gary seemed to be helping himself to other people’s soda in the break room, and that we must “take back our refrigerator.” Yet I certainly didn’t want someone to booby trap the handle, so that when Gary went to get his bag lunch, he received a mild electric shock. I was simply implying that he be banned from the break room for a period of no less than two months, and that one of you ladies might want to think about filing a sexual harassment complaint.

When I declared there was no doubt that upper management had led us into an unwinnable rivalry with the accounting firm across town by showing us misleading pie charts and bar graphs, I didn’t mean they should be fired — only that we shouldn’t feel guilty about helping ourselves to office supplies, or kidnapping the CEO’s poodle and demanding a hefty ransom.

During Wednesday morning’s carpool, I was blatantly cut off and immediately remarked that the “tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of jackasses who drive gray Honda Civics,” I was by no means suggesting that one of my passengers should wait until I pulled up beside the aforementioned jackass at the next red light, then leap out of the car and slash his tire. A simple flip of the bird would have been enough, and maybe one of you could have hocked a loogie onto his window for emphasis.

When I sneered at Paul and mentioned “second floor remedies,” it wasn’t a call to drag him down to the second-floor restroom and dunk his head in the toilet. I merely meant he was acting like a jerk who might benefit from visiting that therapist on Two. Besides, there are perfectly functional toilets right here on Five, aren’t there?

Last Thursday, I noted that the office seemed to be getting increasingly warm throughout the day, and that anyone who disagreed was a willfully ignorant caveman who preferred superstition over the science of thermostats. Don’t misinterpret that as me calling you a Neanderthal. Technically, it would be more accurate to say Cro-Magnon.

And finally, when I got up on my desk earlier today and gave a rousing speech about how we should rise up against our oppressors in management, overthrow them, take over the rest of the fifth floor, and then the entire building itself, I wasn’t calling for some kind of revolution. Not at all. Anyone who thinks that is evidently reading way too much into this, and should just forget everything I said. The rest of you please meet me in the stairwell in five minutes. Bring scissors, paper weights, fountain pens, and anything else that could conceivably be used as a weapon. I want to talk to you about sports or something.

Photo by @mjb

Ralph Gamelli is of average height, weight, and intelligence, and requires the average amount of time to grow a respectable mustache. His ability to write an interesting bio, however, is far below average.