[It's relatively important to know that I started writing this on April 15. It's also unimportant.]
They call it "reality TV." Well, reality must have moved to a parallel universe. I know no one who eats bugs on a dare, though some might for a million bucks. I don't know anyone who would be willing to be dropped off on an Amazonian beachhead with or without a dozen other people who, on top of being obnoxious, wouldn't mind seeing you dead or at least sufficiently moribund to be airlifted to the nearest medical facility, a tent in Uruguay with the name "Der Kaiser" painted on it.
This is not real, but what is disturbing is that some of my acquaintances and all the talk show hosts think it is. And my acquaintances who think it is reality are the same people who don't think we ever landed on the moon. What's scary is that one "teaches" "management" at a local "institute of lower education." (Well, it must be lower.)
Tonight, thanks to President Bush II, "The Apprentice," "American Idol," and one of the last chapters of "Friends" will air at the same time. I listened to talk radio for three hours today, knowing full-well that that's not reality either. After all, you've got three recovering addicts of one sort or another on at the same time. All are egomaniacal, but one is right, one is left, and one leans toward the extreme middle. All believe themselves to be funny, but they're confusing ha-ha with peculiar. Anyway, their topic was not unemployment, or the economy, the war, or the surprise that "intelligence" has become oxymoronic, but rather who would watch what and who The Donald (Trump, not Duck) would finally hire, and which of the relatively talentless would remain on Idol. The Donald (Duck, not Trump) carries a tune better than most of the contestants, but he's not as cute as my Hawaiian favorite.
Okay, but to trash trash is not why I've brought you here today. I enticed you here because there are those who think that "The Apprentice" is real. It's no more real than Rueben or Clay becoming "idols." I want y'all to get out a dictionary and look up "idol" and "apprentice." This time I'm serious! I'll wait...
Come on, I haven't got all night....
Oh, man! "I" comes before "j."
Okay. Got it? "Idol: an image used as the object of worship." Okay, Rueben was cuddly, and Clay was early-Sinatra 'cute,' but idols? Maybe the second definition was what they had in mind: "A false god." JP or PJ or whoever the kid is with no voice, uh uh, and while Rueben may look a little like a Tiki, this is not exactly the model of my American idol. Ah! Third definition: Archaic - "Something visible but without substance." Kinda like Cowell. (Money doesn't equal substance, but it can be worshipped.)
Apprentice: "One bound by legal agreement to work for another for a specific amount of time in return for instruction in a trade, art, or business." Well the nine or twelve apprenti that started certainly didn't learn anything from The Donald (the one who looks like he puts alum in his coffee) certainly didn't teach them anything. Look at the assignments fer cryin'-out-loud. Make a pedi-cab company go. Sell weird art by someone who should be in therapy. Rent a room at the Taj. Make at least a dent in the $2 billion debt at one of The Donald's Atlantic City casinos. (If I had the last assignment, first thing I would have done is to go to his attorneys and have them look for anything suggesting Native American ancestry.)
The contestants have learned little that couldn't have been experiences from working for Woolworth's and being screwed by your competition as counter manager. Kwame's going to win, by the way, because he is the only one who exhibits any kind of management skills. I wouldn't even mind working for him, and I don't particularly like working for anyone. But management skill isn't what "The Apprentice" is all about. For those of you in HR, management, or just trying to avoid law suits, "The Apprentice" is about how not to do everything managerial ... or even humanoid. Let's start with Omorosa, which in some languages means, "woman who is a carrier of migraines." For those who didn't watch the show, here's a woman who was touched atop her head by a piece of lint (no kidding) and claimed that she had to go to the hospital for a concussion, a consussion which she retained for the next three weeks. I'd bet dollars to donuts that she's been paid handsomely for not bringing suit for discrimination, sexual harassment, dust inhalation, lint that was contaminated by asbestos and anthrax. Oh, you think the attorneys could foresee that when they drew up her contract? Not this one. She was as slippery as... Well, let's just say she was about as annoying as an itch on the bottom of your foot. Why she even likened herself to the princess and the pee. Yeah, you heard me.
Three of the other women used sex as a ploy for selling tickets to a rental car or something like that. And at least two other than Omorosa were witches with a capital "B." Try that in a real corporation, and watch how fast you hear the words "discrimination" and " " " " " " " ". You fill in the four blanks.
And then there was the hick from Idaho who used his cowboy charm as a ploy. But, while he thought he could charm a car off a fish truck, he wasn't as slick as he thought.
I suppose they all deserved credit for being chosen from the thousands who applied. On the other hand, there must be an obnoxious meter which weeded in the finalists.
The Donald (not the president of the Hair Club for People Who Should Know Better) knew full well what was going on, and since it's good for ratings, did nothing and didn't refer to it either. But you can bet that those shenanigans do not go on in management in The Donald's corporations. All you have to do is look at his left and right hand and, for all we know, the real management behind the throne. George (with an unknown last name) is a man of experience, and showed it in most of his 10-second critiques (that's all that was allowed since The needed 30 seconds of his own to articulate "You're fired"). But if you want to be impressed, his Vice President, Carolyn Kepcher, probably runs 80% of his operations. I can't think of enough adjectives, but the one that just comes to mind over and over is Sharp! She is sharp. She should be president of HP if not The D Inc. Why is she only a VP? .She should get a raise and a percentage of the program. After all, she had to traipse all over Manhattan with these novices. Ah, maybe it should have been called "The Novice."
What "The Apprentice" is is entertainment, and I have been entertained. I haven't learned any more than the participants, but then again, I don't have to. I'm just settin' an' a-rockin' an' a bidin' my time. But those of you who are on some sort of management career path, take note of what not to do. And then, mark my words, Kwame is going to win. It's not the Harvard MBA. It's not even his acumen. It's because his last competitor, Bill, made his money selling cigars and, if you should know anything about The Donald, it's this: he doesn't like smokers.
It's 6:30 PM. Doesn't come on for another couple of hours. Let's see...