Every office or workplace — even NASA — needs a resident comedian to help boost morale and keep the team laughing. Especially on days when you or your coworkers feel like crying in a bathroom stall, vomiting, and contemplating where life went so horribly wrong.
Some of us choose to be the office clown. Others accept the mantle as a matter of necessity to inject some levity into a gloomy working environment. Years ago, I found myself cartwheeling down the path of the office jester as a response to both scenarios. And sometimes, you’re fortunate enough to find a mentor in this capacity who shows you the ropes — and unicycles — of this most solemn and silly role.
The Road to Office Clown Sidekick
Once upon a time, I was earning my stripes in an entry-level marketing position with a large corporate media entity. In the words of Tina Turner, for nearly eight years, I was “workin’ for The Man every night and day.”
I hoped that, someday, I would have a chance to prove that I had good ideas that could benefit people. I was young, hard-working, and idealistic.
Four years into the gig, I began to realize I was less of a team member and more of a cog in the wheel. A fuzzy hamster on a treadmill going nowhere that had no clue how to make her exit or what would await if she hopped off. In my early 20s, I was still unaware of how vicious the corporate world could be.
I came to that harsh realization after I looked at my pay stub and noticed I hadn’t gotten a single cost-of-living raise in four years. Reality hit even harder after I’d been passed over for several promotions. That said, I still managed to pick up a few more “regular duties” after a round of corporate-mandated shitcannings downsizing left holes in the assembly line. But still no raise.
I managed to keep my job, not because I cultivated an aura of diligent work ethic. Mind you, I got the job done, but stopped volunteering myself for extra projects or doing anything above and beyond my regular duties.
Rather, I kept my job by letting everyone know I was highly-efficient, competent…. and bat shit crazy.
The Ballad of Old Jim: Office Comedian Extraordinaire
I observed this philosophy under the guidance of a colleague who had survived 30 years at this place. Old Jim, as we’ll call him, was kind, fair, funny, and had stories about nearly everyone who worked at the company dating back decades. He was in charge of inventory and made sure there was no preferential treatment of sales staff. You got what you needed on a first-come, first serve basis.
I appreciated his sense of ethics, especially in a relatively cutthroat sales environment. Due to my project management aptitude and ability to help with the more tech-based aspects of a changing inventory system, I became Old Jim’s assistant, helping him manage the onslaught of requests sent his way by the office’s growing sales force.
He got help with our new computer systems and, in return, I got to hear cool stories about his time in Hawaii, surfing, knowledge of guitars, classic rock, classic movies — and all the crazy shit that happened in the advertising industry before the office was acquired and went fully corporate.
From Old Jim, I learned that work didn’t have to always be work. It could still be fun. You could get the job done efficiently and then fart around and joke with your friends. This was before the days of micromanaging time tracking software designed to account for every second of your day to ensure maximum productivity and minimal joy.
The job itself wasn’t the most exciting gig, but it was a valuable learning experience and I considered myself fortunate to have had a really cool mentor. Old Jim was one of several people I’d worked with who made an otherwise shitty job a lot more bearable just by being himself.
Something Bad Happened to a Clown
As is the case with many bean-counting corporate entities, the day came when the company decided to downsize. Old Jim was one of the first to be let go in a round of unceremonious shitcannings. He was one of 12 people my branch let go — and one of thousands the company laid off nationwide as part of cost-cutting measures.
Instead of being given the dignity of a retirement party celebrating 30 years with the company, Old Jim was given a severance package and a cardboard box full of his belongings as he was shown the door along with a bunch of other people deemed “expendable” by some bullshit corporate rubric. Jim brought a lot more to the office than just manning the inventory. He brought a sense of humor and humanity to an otherwise soulless gig.
This sucked. And it made office morale take an even faster spiral down the shitter.
The Columbo Approach to Office Life
None of this sat well with me. A corporate office is a lot like a war zone in that even when you see something awful happen to your friends and good people, you have to soldier on. Jim’s absence made me realize that every office needs a “character” to keep the troops/prisoners entertained and morale at a reasonable level.
I decided to attempt to fill the void of the office comedian vacated by my friend. I was underpaid, overworked, and completely out of fucks to give. And I could see my remaining office friends weren’t feeling much better, either.
Taking a cue from Peter Falk’s disheveled detective Columbo, I employed the workplace survivalist strategy of using my off-kilter personality to my advantage. I discovered that, if people think you’re a little “off,” they’re more likely to say things they assume will go over your head. All the while, you’re retaining that knowledge and using it to brace for any oncoming calamity. “Crazy like a fox,” so to speak.
Inspirational Hints to Up Your Office Comedian Game
In the months and years ahead, I engaged in a variety of office shenanigans. Need some inspiration to kick things up a notch in your own workplace? Here’s some helpful tips based on stunts I pulled at my old job:
- Dress symbolically for the job you have: I was personally responsible for the “no camo” policy in the company dress code memo. Apparently, wearing dressy cargo pants with a sweater didn’t fly in the office. Shortly after I wore a pair of camo pants, a new memo circulated, adding camouflage-patterned attire to the list of verboten office-wear (including crop tops, hot pants, and sweatpants).
- Become the office DJ: The day Rick James died, I made an announcement over the company’s P.A. system, paying homage to the Super Freak himself by cranking my computer speakers and serenading the office with James’ signature song.
- Use the intercom for karaoke: The week after Christmas, there were maybe three people in the entire office since most of the staff — including our receptionist — were on vacation. The remaining skeleton crew had to cover the phones in shifts in addition to our own daily tasks — even though most of the staff would not be there to return calls until the following week. Bored and wanting to entertain myself, I commandeered the intercom yet again to proclaim my love for the company, belting out a Gong Show-worthy rendition of “I Will Always Love You” (the Whitney version) and dedicated it to our corporate overlords.
- Pranks: From coordinating a full-scale “Stack Attack” and wallpapering my friend’s office with photos of Unsolved Mysteries‘ Robert Stack to seizing on another office pal’s fear of Pee Wee Herman by taping tiny pictures of the beloved comedy icon to various hidden spots for her to discover, I was occasionally responsible for various pranks to liven things up around the office.
Tears of a Clown: Getting Shitcanned
All good and bad things must come to an end. After eight years with the company, I eventually found myself on the chopping block. It was a good run, if not a particularly lucrative one. While losing that job gave me the kick in the ass I needed to pursue better opportunities, it hurt. Even though I didn’t particular enjoy the work itself, I honestly considered many of my coworkers to be close friends. Although the work itself was drudgery, there was a joy in getting up every day to work alongside friends and people I cared about.
Getting shitcanned came on the heels of having lost my father six months prior, just four short years after my mother‘s passing. It was a lot of upheaval to process. From an emotional perspective, a support system of friends and, yes, even a piece of my identity went away when I got canned. Conversely, from a more pragmatic perspective, it sent me into panic mode because I had bills to pay.
But as the saying goes, “The horrors persist, yet I remain silly.” I landed another job one month later. Now, nearly 15 years outside of that experience, I’ve taken many of those lessons learned with me and have still remained friends with many of my former coworkers. If people are meant to stick around and those bonds of friendship are strong enough, you’ll remain a fixture in each other’s lives.
Lasting Friendships and a Legacy of Laughs
Until his passing last year, Jim and I stayed friends. For over a decade, one of my favorite Christmas Day traditions was an annual two-hour telephone catch-up with Old Jim. Much like my own father, Jim had an encyclopedic knowledge of music and was always quick to crack a joke.
All these years later, I still proudly wear the Red Nose of Courage as an office clown. Hey, someone’s gotta lighten the mood when workloads are heavy and people are dealing with life stuff on top of a full plate of professional tasks. I might not be the zany prankster I was in my youth, but I like being relied upon to add some humor to a meeting.
So much of the attitude I’ve carried with me to every job I’ve held since then is due to my friend Jim. I still miss him. He was my office role model who taught me the value of being real. That it was possible to get the job done, but that you didn’t have to sacrifice your soul or humor in the process. There are mentors who teach you hard skills, but there are also good souls who teach you about life, how to conduct yourself, and how to turn drudgery into mirth. Thanks for being my friend, Jim.
Photo by Sachin Bharti