Office politics
“He who controls the calendar controls the kingdom.”
In a stunning escalation of corporate ego, mid-level manager Brent Hollister has declared himself “Meeting Emperor of the Fourth Floor,” effectively seizing control of all interdepartmental scheduling and demanding tribute in the form of Keurig pods and flavored creamers.
“Let it be known,” Brent announced via company-wide Slack message, “that henceforth, no one shall gather in fluorescent-lit conference rooms without my express royal consent.” The message was accompanied by a GIF of a medieval king sipping hazelnut latte, which was later discovered to be AI-generated and weirdly hot.
According to sources within HR (and several traumatized interns), Brent first rose to power after mastering Outlook calendar invites, strategically placing recurring 9:17 a.m. meetings across departments to establish dominance and confuse the competition. “He sent me an invite for a ‘spontaneous thought alignment huddle,'” whispered junior analyst Mia Tran. “It turned out to be a coronation.”
Brent’s “Meetingscape Empire” includes the break room, two out-of-service printers, and a mysterious Excel document titled “Loyalty Index,” ranking employees based on their eye contact and donut offerings.
Office etiquette expert Clive Dryden says this isn’t an isolated case. “We’ve entered the era of calendar-based authoritarianism. They no longer want promotions–they want serfs.”
In response, rebels have begun scheduling covert meetings under code names like “Lunch” and “Bathroom Break.” One rogue faction even launched a counter-coup with a Google Doc titled “Resistance Agenda: BYO Muffins.”
Brent now wears a paper crown made from old Q3 reports and insists that all attendees kneel before giving status updates. During one budget review, he forced the marketing team to play medieval lute music from Spotify.
Despite complaints, corporate leadership has remained silent, citing Brent’s “high synergy quotient” and “unmatched meeting attendance rates.” CEO Karen Drexler praised Brent in a memo, noting, “At least someone’s using the conference rooms.”
The situation reached a boiling point last Friday when Brent attempted to knight the CFO with a whiteboard marker. The ceremony was interrupted by IT staff demanding he stop reserving the projector for “Royal Proclamations.”
Meanwhile, the coffee tribute system has sparked a black-market Keurig trade, with decaf going for as low as two passive-aggressive compliments and a stolen stapler.
As of press time, Brent has announced “Mandatory Brainstorm Festivities” for Thursday at dawn, featuring charades, finger-pointing, and medieval jargon like “synergy joust” and “workflow heresy.”
Resistance grows, but morale remains low. “We tried to form a democracy,” said Mia, “but the voting poll was in Outlook, and Brent already RSVP’d for everyone.”
Auf Wiedersehen, amigos.
