Magic Eye: Great Equalizer Of The Corporate World

Ruthless office pranks aside, I worry sometimes that my job doesn’t allow me a constructive outlet for my malevolent impulses. Maybe that’s the reason why I’m so destructive in my personal and romantic lives. Oh well, that’s the price I pay for passing on that position as an interrogator at Guantanamo Bay.

Everyone in my company is given these bland little name tag things to hang up on their cubes, or outside their office. I’ve recently decided that I’m angry with this. I’m tired of being defined by my “Slave Name.” No, I’m not African-American, but my ancestors were slaves…if you go all the way back to Egypt.

Funny slavery story: ok, not really funny. Or a story. Or about slavery. But it's amusing! I have a friend who’s announced that he’s taking the word “Cracker” back for the White Man. He’s just waiting for the opportunity to get offended when someone says the “C” word in public so he can stand up and say, “Hey! That is OUR word. You have NO RIGHT to say it.” It’s a pretty amusing idea. The only problem is that no African American has used the utterance as a racial slur since the 1972 film “Superfly.”

Anyway, where was I? Oh right, my slave name.

So at first, I was planning on announcing a new name that I demanded on being addressed by. Something incredibly complicated with about 17 consonants in a row. But then I remembered that they charge a fee to legally change your name. It was then I decided that the real way I could honor my enslaved forefathers was through doing what they did best: shamelessly Jewing every penny out of The Man humanly possibly.

So instead of a name change, I opted to be extremely cheap. I could already feel my ancestors smiling down upon on me. Then I remembered we Jews don’t believe in Heaven and realized that it had just been a webcam hidden in the men’s room.

Finally, I hit on a way to stick it to The Man in a fiscally-responsible manner. Once in a while, someone will walk down the rows of cubes, looking for someone’s desk. As they go, they walk slowly and squint at the name tags. Because stopping to ask directions would require interaction with someone on a personal level. And ovaries. So I decided to go passive-aggressive in my revenge on the corporate world.

I visited a really cool site and made a new version of my name tag: in Magic Eye writing. That ought to cause some consternation. I can just see someone wandering down the isle:

“Robert Terwilliger, Momar Szislak, Quarky Jones, and wha, um, huh?”

Me: Can I help you?
Confused Corporate Asshole: Uh…yeah. Who are you?
Me [in a weary voice]: Read the sign, pal.
CCA: Huh? How do I...
Me: You have to look THROUGH it. Like a window.
[Long pause.]
CCA: I don't see anything
Me: Are you looking BEYOND the picture?
CCA: Yeah...
Me: No you aren't or you'd see it.
[Another pause]
CCA: Wait, is it an airplane?
Me: Of course not! What kind of idiot would hang a picture of an airplane up in place of his name?

It's such a great "fuck you" to the corporate world. I wonder if I can find a place that will do my business cards in the same format.