Greetings, staff member! Three years ago, we launched a gratuitous hiring frenzy to tackle an untenable stream of project-based work that has recently dried up. Instead of devising a flexible business model attuned to the natural flow of our industry, we’re politely demanding that you submit to our new corporate Patreon.
To be clear, we don’t mean “submit” as in “forced into submission”; we mean it in the sense that you’re inspired to willfully surrender a majority portion of the finite amount of time you have left on Earth in exchange for the managerial elite making bank off your blood, sweat, and fears.
Help us help you help us by submitting to one of the following legally binding options!
TIERS
The Bare Minimum
40 hours or more per week
At this level, you’ll receive one whole hour per day devoted to hyperventilating through lunch while grumbling about your stifling workload, health benefits whose monthly premiums are equal to 90% of your paycheck, and a company-branded polo shirt that puts a literal target on your back.
The Actual Bare Minimum
50 hours or more per week
In addition to having none of the previously mentioned rewards, you’ll have twice-daily access to the sub-basement restroom as long as Jasper remembers to unlock it every morning when we let him out of the sub-basement.
The Overzealous Twenty-Something
60 hours or more per week
Scoff at the old folks who leave at 6 p.m. to go home to their families and recliners. How gauche! You know the true meaning of work – staying late for the sake of staying late. At this tier you’ll receive the self-satisfaction of reaching an arbitrary bar you set for your own self-satisfaction.
The Recently Divorced
70 hours or more per week
You’ll be given a pillow and threadbare blanket. You can tell coworkers you brought them in because the building gets too cold in the afternoon and your hemorrhoids flare up, but upper management knows where you go when everyone else heads to the parking lot. As long as Jasper doesn’t spot you down there on his nightly rounds, we won’t tell.
The Flagellated Monk
80 hours or more per week
You will continually strike yourself with an authentic medieval whip on loan from the British Museum. This is not for management’s pleasure but rather a symbolic gesture of begging for God’s pity on your coworkers who are out on unapproved sick leave with what may be the Black Plague.
The White Tornado (a.k.a The Peruvian Snowflake)
90 hours or more per week
You want to grab life by the face and bite its lips off. We know this because you’re always shouting it while prancing around the conference room to psyche out the pantywaist team members who can’t handle your energy. They cower as you espouse “a daily infusion of vitamin C” and tap your nose suggestively. You’ll be given a box of tissues and a wooden crate to scream into so the all-hands meetings can progress uninterrupted.
The Human Butt Plug
100 hours or more per week
You don’t sweat. You don’t eat. You never get up from your chair. You are the model of the modern work ethic. If we could cram you up our own asses to feel the sweet relief of constant pressure, we would do so in an arrhythmic heartbeat. At this tier, you’ll receive an exclusive company-branded toe tag after Jasper wheels you to the sub-basement for a backdoor autopsy.
Thanks for supporting us by freeing up a desk!
