Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Theo Epstein makes me sick. He was the general manager of the Red Sox until two days ago, when he decided to walk away from a $4.5 million three-year contract because his heart wasn't 100% in it anymore. What a baby. And what a shortsighted, stupid thing to do. He's never had a real job in his life. He's worked for baseball teams. He has a job most people would kill for. And he walks away from it because he can't see eye-to-eye with his boss. What does he expect? This is what a job is. You do your work, you cash your checks, you find fulfillment elsewhere if you have to. This is why we can't keep our associates. People want more from their jobs than they have a right to expect. It's work. We have an economy here. We're in business to make money. If you have a problem with that, move to a kibbutz in Israel and grow your own food. Babies like this one think they're standing up for principles when he's just proving he shouldn't have been given the job to begin with. I hope he lands here in L.A., where the dysfunctional Dodgers front office can beat his spirit into submission. At least his actions, if anyone here besides me even has time to pay attention to the news, might help the associates better resign themselves to their fate. After all, if the general manager of the Red Sox can't be happy, what hope do they ever have of finding joy at work? The deeper that message sinks in, the less eager they'll be to leave and look for greener pastures. The world is hopeless. You won't find anything better than what we have to offer. So sit down, give yourself a good cry, and then get back to work. That's what we're here for. An honest day's work. Sixteen hours. That's all we're asking. And your Blackberry, on vibrate, under your pillow, just in case.