For years I’ve paid my employees what I deem to be a fair wage so that my customers can pay me large sums of money for the opportunity to kick my workers square in the nuts. But not anymore—thanks to these government-mandated unemployment benefits, my employees just don’t show up. Where’s the work ethic?
These unemployment checks make workers lazy and earn them more money than they would make working for me! How is that fair? With that extra dough, suddenly, it seems, the thought of a person you’ve never seen before absolutely teeing off on your delicate man berries isn’t as appealing as it once was.
Less than two years ago, when the job market was crap, my office had dozens of hopeless men lining up to fill out applications for the prestigious opportunity to work here and have their beanbag punted by a random stranger and their petulant child (on Kidz Kick for Free Fridays!).
After all, we offer employees (or Smash Testes Dummies as they’re known around here) a competitive salary of $2.50 an hour plus any tips* (an old “restaurant server” loophole) they earn from our patrons after they’ve had their balls booted to bits.
*We strongly discourage customers from giving tips because it takes away from the power dynamic of the ball smashing and detracts from our customers’ experience.
Like family, I valued my workers below their worth. And now my work family has gone and abandoned me.
Speaking of families, my customers used to be over-the-moon to end one of my employee's family lines by kicking a field goal and splitting the uprights—the field goal is my worker's testicles and splitting the uprights is their sack's seam. You should see the look on my customers' faces when I have to tell them, “Sorry, no one wants to work anymore. Blame Biden.”
I’ve tried to appease my workers by offering them more, but they didn’t want a coupon for one free kick of a coworker’s nuts at work, customers showing up at their house so my employees could work virtually, or tickets to George Ballanchine’s The Nutcracker as a holiday bonus.
Nothing I do is working. It seems that I just can't pay people my version of a reasonable wage to take it eight hours a day hard in the gonads from steel-toed boots during Construction Workers’ Wednesdays.
I’m at a complete loss for the state of this country and its workforce. If I didn’t have passive income from owning four non-rent controlled buildings, I’d potentially be in ruins in 5-7 years! Don’t these workers care about their company’s owners anymore?
Don’t come at me with, “If you treated your workers better or gave them better benefits then this wouldn’t happen.” Bull! I offer unlimited sick days to my employees provided they get a note from their doctor saying one or both of their goo-goos has been brutalized so hard that they struggle to maintain a three-dimensional shape under the stress of normal, everyday gravity. What other company offers that?!
It’s not just my store that’s hurting either, all of the other businesses that my friends own are going through the same thing: Tony's Shit Eaters, Samantha’s Make Our Employees Live Through Their Greatest Fears for Your Own Mild Amusement Land, and McDonald’s.
I dream of the day that my business is booming once again with bent-over and anguished employees who are grasping the remains of their nuts that continue to clack and dissipate the inertia put into them by happy, paying customers’ technically perfect roundhouse kicks (on Martial Arts Mondays: where all black belts receive a 50% discount to practice their martial art on my employee’s dangling scrotes). That’s when I’ll know that the America I know and love, the one where anyone has the opportunity to provide for their families equally, owner and employee alike, is back.