The Hand-Off

I am a forty-seven-year-old man, and I have a desire to work for a company that values their employees. I hold the role of Production ‘Manager’ for a millwork company located in the western suburbs of this bullet riddled shit show called Chicago. As a rule, a management team should possess, at the very least, a modicum of managerial skills. Like, being able to discern when employees are wiping their asses with the ‘company-provided’ toilet paper and throwing that shit stained wad on the… Continue reading “The Hand-Off”