In Which Dr. Woofers Works for a Pyramid Scheme

I would like to apologize for the immense gap between my last post and this one. I would like to say I'm sorry and promise to post more regularly in the future. But honestly? I've been busy. And am often lacking in the motivation department. So, I'm not really that sorry. But I hope you enjoy this post, and maybe (if you don't do bad things at night) I'll write some more posts at some point.

I'll know...

Nearly a year ago, I moved my primary residence to Louisiana (a move completely unrelated to a malpractice suit involving a certain chew toy allegedly being "misplaced" in the operating room), which was a bit of journey from my native land of North Carolina.

An "incredible" journey? Maybe? Okay.

Anyway, so since most of the things that we need in this life require some form of money or a sketchy goods/services barter system, I set about finding employment. Many of you might recall from an earlier post that I had briefly herded large groups of human adolescents (while attempting to indoctrinate them with historical knowledge and the "hidden curriculum") in exchange for payment. 

Not the hidden curriculum you were thinking about... Pervert.

Sadly, the great state of Louisiana was fresh out of education jobs. Because clearly they had done all the educating they needed to get done that year. So what's a dog to do? Turn to the interwebs for help, of course! 

After checking a few scary sounding websites (and Craigslist) I stumbled across a job opportunity that promised me everything I never knew that I always wanted. It had performance rewards, leadership training, entrepreneurial opportunities and they were looking for college graduates. I was a college graduate! It seemed like a match made in heaven.

And 100% fact based, just like "Space Jam"!

Well, of course, being the lovable scamp that I am, I got the job. The job being in something called "direct sales" representing the small business branch of Staples, known as Quill. And that's how I began to work for a pyramid scheme version of Dundler Mifflin. For the sake of the story, I'm not just saying Dunder Mifflin because I want to make some references to "The Office". I'm saying Dundler Mifflin because I literally sold Dunder Mifflin paper. If you don't believe me, check this link to the company's website.

Dunder Mifflin Paper

Also, I'm not in any way trying to bad mouth Staples, Quill (or even Dundler Mifflin) in this post. I'm just letting you know that my actual employer was a supplier of cheap door to door salespeople for hire, and our particular branch was currently being paid by Quill. Where it gets to be a pyramid scheme (maybe even cult?) is where the rituals and hierarchy were concerned. 

Yes, I said rituals. Creepy, huh?

Essentially I was getting paid next to nothing (working on commission) to traipse around southern Louisiana during August while wearing a shirt and tie and being told "No", often in a rather rude tone, for ten hours a day. No, we were not compensated for gas spent. No we were not given a base salary like waitresses. There were days where I made no money while spending ten dollars in gas to have people tell me that they didn't want any office supplies. Sometimes the sales I made didn't even get me a commission, because the business didn't "Quill-ify" for the promotions. 

And yes, I was supposed to say "Quill-ify"....

My co-workers were an interesting group of ne'er do wells. They ranged from the fresh out of college with a communications degree types to the sixty year old used car salesman that was trying to strike it rich. I even worked with a member of the LSU SEC championship team from the previous year. He was actually probably the most thoughtful and articulate person I worked with. Go figure. Almost all of them were drinking the Koolaid and were sure that they would be millionaires in a few years. And who knows? Maybe one of them will. But I very much doubt it.

Our boss was a bro in every sense of the word, but he meant well, and was only perpetuating a system in which his hard work had paid off, netting him some of the pyramid's benefits. Those benefits being that once you've made some sales, you start recruiting a team, and once your team has made some sales, you get to be an assistant to the regional manager.

Okay, fine. I had to work in one reference.

Then once you had been doing that for a bit, you got to become the manager of your very own new branch, making a cut off the top of whatever capital your branch produced. But the person who promoted you also gets a cut of what your branch produces, all the way up the ladder (or pyramid rather) until the CEO of the company is just diving into a swimming pool filled with money like Scrooge McDuck. 

And no, I'm not going to include a picture of that, because you all know damn well exactly what that looks like. And if you say that you don't, that's what our benevolent overlords at Google are for.

I would have to say that the only redeeming aspect of this job was that it helped me land my current job. One sweltering, sweaty, sunny, summer day I was going through my shtick and the manager I was speaking to basically interrupted me and said that she didn't want to buy any of these office supplies, but she was willing to offer me something else...

Again, not THAT hidden curriculum. Weirdo...

She offered me a job. A real job. As in, I would come in to work every morning and sit in my air conditioned office and make lots of work related motions and sounds in exchange for a paycheck every month. 

Fun fact: I don't actually need glasses. I wear them to look smart.

I didn't even really wait to see how much the pay was before being like, "Yes. Yes I'll take that job. I'll take that job so hard. No. No, I didn't mean that to sound desperate and/or sexual." 

And I worked there for the rest of my days. Or at least until I stuff all my belongings in a sack and start thumbing my way back to North Carolina.

The Origin of Dr. Woofers

Well, since this blog is named after Dr. Woofers, it only seems right that the first story posted should be the origin of the doggy doctor whom we've all come to know and love. So below is how the running joke of Dr. Woofers came about.

My room mate recently had a class called 'Health Care Systems and Problems'. He quickly realized that one of the problems with the health care system was the class itself. The professor was an older hippie type guy, who was looking to expose young collegiate minds to "alternative treatments" and "thinking outside the box". Just like indie kids only love bands nobody's heard of, so too do hippies only like medicine that no hospital uses. They're all about some herbal remedies for cancer and heated stones to relive arthritis pain. Now, there's nothing wrong with that sort of thing, except when the course is supposed to be about problems with things like HMO's and swine flu vaccines. You know, real problems.

A health care reform he could get behind.

Now, luckily (or unluckily depending on how you look at it) this was a once a week class. That meant that for three hours in a row, every Monday, this professor would spout nonsense and ramble on about keeping a balanced approach to health care. I had a similarly mush-minded professor for a Civil War history course that same night, so we would each come home and repeat the latest ridiculous rants that our respective professors had spouted in the throes of their advanced Alzheimer's-based dementia.

One night, my room mate came home with a particularly ridiculous story to tell. That night, the professor asked the class to give examples of health care providers. My room mate and an actual health care professional who is also in the class began listing off things like "Physicians, surgeons, nurses, paramedics, dentists, pharmacists, etc." and the professor was like "Nope. Nope. No. Keep thinking."

Now you're probably thinking, "What on earth could this crack pot professor be looking for if doctors and nurses aren't in the answer category?" Finally, some random student pipes up hesitantly with "Midwives?". And the professor is like "Yes! Excellent example!". My room mate is naturally perplexed by this answer, as should anybody even remotely aware of what being a "health care provider" details. But it doesn't stop there.

Throwing away centuries of accumulated medical
knowledge pertaining to the dangers of childbirth.

The professor says, "What about chiropractors and physical therapists?" I know what you're thinking. You're probably thinking that those actually kind of make sense. Don't worry, the professor quickly veers back into the oncoming traffic lane after his brief venture into normalcy.

He continues with "What about special education teachers? What about camp counselors for at summer camps for terminally ill children? What about those dogs they bring into hospitals to cheer people up? What about comedians? We can't forget the healing power of laughter."

Don't worry darling, Dr. Chappelle is on his way.

My room mate replies with, "So are you billing me for this right now? Because this class is a joke." The professor doesn't think it's very funny. This professor seriously rates dogs higher than doctors in the hierarchy of health care providers. From this night onward, this professor was known as Puppy Doctor, and the legend of Dr. Woofers was born.

You might walk around in your fancy 'people clothes',
driving your 'people cars', but you'll never be half
the health care provider that Dr. Woofers is!

Can you imagine the situation at the hospital? Nurses are running everywhere with squeaky toys looking for Dr. Woofers as the intercom blares "Paging Dr. Woofers. Paging Doctor Woofers. You're needed in the O.R." It'd be like that car commercial where the owners drive all the way around town looking for their dog, only to have it bolt off again once they finally locate it digging up some poor innocent person's flower patch.

The chief of medicine glares at some resident and asks, "How could you let this happen? I told you not to leave the door to his office open after you took him for his afternoon walk!" The young doctor stammers back, "But I've looked everywhere. The park, the waiting room, his office, but mostly just the park. Dr. Woofers is nowhere to be found." Exasperated, the chief of medicine walks away muttering, "God help us if he's off chasing a squirrel; there's no telling when he'd be back."

Dr. Kelso! Look! I found him!

And from those humble origins, Dr. Woofers had gone on to be one of the best running jokes we have. We live right across from the hospital so we often see people in scrubs walking their dogs, and make jokes about what that particular terrier is doing his residency in. We'll see a dog sitting in the front seat of a car in a parking lot and joke about how hard it is for him to keep his driver's license, what with always veering off the road to chase squirrels. When it came time to get a new calendar, naturally we chose one with puppies, and the proceeded to create medical profession related costumes for all the puppies. We even see Dr. Woofers in the video games we play.

Dr. Woofers stretching his neck out before operating.

Alpha Post

So for the past several months my room mate and I have been contemplating starting some sort of online medium of recording all sorts of hilarious or just interesting things that we say, hear or see happen. Some of the things posted on here will be stories that involve us directly, and some will just be things that we find entertaining, and feel the need to record for posterity.

Us on a regular basis

For clarification purposes, the title of this blog comes from one of our longest running jokes about a golden retriever who also happens to be a successful doctor. The Dr. Woofer's origin story will probably be among the first several stories contained on this blog.

Chief of Internal Medicine

Although I will probably be the main poster, I hope that friends will take to giving me stories and jokes to post as well. I will probably also include links to websites that make us laugh, because there is some seriously funny stuff out there that really deserves to be shared. Hopefully we will have the time to put a ton of funny stories on here for your reading pleasure. Not entirely sure what the format of this blog will be, only that it needs to document and share the things that keep us entertained. If you have suggestions, get in touch and share your opinion.


* Spoiler Alert * Some of the material contained in these stories, or the way in which they are told might not be suitable for some of the younger or more sheltered denizens of the interweb. If you are such a person, either don't read this potentially uncouth material or just don't repeat the things you read to someone who would be offended.

We told you not to read it!