I’ve had several bosses who would say “no” to requests for projects from other departments: “We just don’t have the people (time, resources, etc.) to do that.” Here, saying no is a convenient way to get out of any additional work, and in some cases any work at all!

I’ve also had bosses who would reject everything I brought them as not being good enough. No matter what I did, it would never cut muster. After a bit, you give up inside and start looking for other work while wishing only the cruellest of fates on your boss.

Managerial naysayers were the subject of a great column by Jared Sandberg in yesterday’s Wall Street Journal. Sandberg’s “cubicle culture” article hit the nail on the head in observing that naysaying is a tactic of the “intellectually insecure.”

With the large number of bosses out there who exhibit these negatory traits, one could rightfully ask what standards companies use to promote people and also how these same companies can even survive their own naytrending.

Living well may be the best revenge, but seeing some mucky-muck naysayers lose their jobs and suffer the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” (thanks, Bard) would be even better. Unfortunately, those types survive. It’s simply workers like me who get laid off and screwed over. That’s why they call me Mr. Unlucky.

As I read more of Poor Richard’s Almanack, I was struck by this saying: It is Ill-Manners to silence a Fool, and Cruelty to let him go on.

This must be why I can’t stand listening to any politicians, at least since Ronald Reagan left office. It would be ill-mannered of me to say anything more about the current crop, so I let their words fall on my deaf ears.

Here we go–I promised to reveal my stupidity, so I must do so in my best Poor Richard fashion.

Just recently, we had a problem with underwear emerging from the washing machine with holes in them. We examined every working piece of the Maytag machine and couldn’t find the source of the tears. One morning when my wife became unbearably histrionic, I vowed to take action. First, I called Maytag to schedule a repair visit.

Now, the last time I did this–to replace the main control knob on the washer–it cost me $400, or more than the machine is worth or originally cost. As the Maytag people this day explained the service call charge and possible parts charges, I began calculating in my head that it would, again, cost me more than buying a new machine. So, I hung up, went online and ordered a new washing machine, due in two days.

Two days later the delivery men arrived, installed the new machine and took away my “old” washer (two years old!) for recycling or whatever. As the old machine was hauled away, I kept thinking, “I bet there’s nothing wrong with that unit.”

How right I was! That same night my wife discovered the cause of the holes in the underwear, and it had nothing to do with mechanical processes. It was a family of rats burrowing into our laundry bin in the garage. We moved the laundy recepticle inside the house, et voila!–the holes in the underwear disappeared, as did the rats.

I still have rat traps loaded with people butter in the garage to punish any remaining or returning rodents, but they just grab their bellies every day as they crawl by my machinations and doomday machines.

And laugh they should–I spent $600 buying a new washing machine with a five-year warranty, and someone somewhere out there is using my old machine and thinking what a fool I was to give it up. Fortunately, they have no clue about the cause–my $600 rat.

Poor Richard, save me!

I don’t think I even need to confer with the ghost of Ben Franklin or his alter-self, Poor Richard, for a read on this commercial. Now, last time I checked PlayStation is a children-teens’ video game, right? So, check out this commercial and let’s hear it for the First Amendment:

In Poor Richard’s Almanack, Franklin suggests that a tax rate of 10 percent would bankrupt the nation. However, I recall the past few years paying just that amount alone in my home state of California, where taxes are again being debated as the race for governor heats up. Of course, you can’t believe any politican who says s/he will never raise taxes. This is about as good as Woodrow Wilson’s promise not to send troops to Europe, or LBJ’s vow not to get involved in Vietnam. Once elected, politicians have a way of reverting to form.

That being said, with the NFL season fully upon us, Mr. Unlucky here remembers betting on Chicago to win the Super Bowl last year as a Las Vegas long shot. As usual, I was a year off, as it now appears Chicago is poised to take it all this season. But you never know. Teams have a way of reverting to form as well as politicians. Just look at the recent postseason collapse of the Los Angeles Bums.

It’s Saturday morning, and though I don’t work during the week, this day still seems like a take-care-of-odds-and-ends opportunity, so off I went for an oil change at 8 a.m.

To confess, I’m not sure that cars really need oil changes every 3,000 miles. Back when I actually made money, I bought a new Jaguar (not that long ago, in 2003), and I was informed to bring the car in to have the oil changed–every 10,000 miles! Okay, maybe that just applies to Jags.

Anyway, as I drove down the street with all the car shops on it, I skipped right past Jiffy Lube. Everytime I go in there, they read the riot act to me. “You need servicing on your dome lamp.” “What’s that, and what does it cost?” “We have a special for $499.99, and we recommend the service every 100 miles you drive.” “No, I think I’ll pass on that.” “You also need headliner reflushing?” “Huh?” “That’s just $199.99 at today’s special price, and we recommend it every one mile you drive.”

So, I passed on Jiffy Lube and went a shop owned by a Korean gentleman where I’ve been before for the $19.95 hassle-free oil change. Unfortunately, the guy must’ve sent his staff down the street to Jiffy Lube for some training. Not only did I need a new air filter for $19.95 but also a transmission flush for $79.95. I passed and told them, “Next time.” At least they didn’t keep pushing like they do down the street.

Why can’t someone build a car that needs no service for 100,000 miles, and then you just trade it in for a new one? Better yet, maybe I should just open a Jiffy Lube and cash in.

I finally made my way back to “Poor Richard’s Almanack,” which I venture I should do ever so often if I’m going to call this blog my vehicle to update Ben Franklin’s seminal work.

Now, in this second section, Franklin does admit that he had more–or less-than doing “publick good” in mind in penning his almanack. Indeed, he notes that his wife may well have left him had he not quit gazing at the stars and done something to make money (no doubt he had plenty already, but the point is made). Hence, “Poor Richard’s Almanack” in its many revisions and printings. What a cottage industry! (I should be so lucky; however, I’m not called Mr. Unlucky for nothing.)

Now, for those of you who still maintain a mythical perspective on Ben Franklin, consider this aphorism that I found sprinkled amongst many others in part two:

Love well, whip well.

Now, does that tell you something about the man and his times, or what?

(As will my $600 rat story if I ever muster the courage to tell it!)