“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim:

“I’m a manager, and I try to be a good one. I struggle, however, when people ask for days off when they’re trying to get over the death of a dog or a cat.

“Should this really be considered in the same way as the death of a close family member?

“What’s making the issue more difficult for me is that I have never had a pet myself, which means that I probably have little idea of the attachment people can have to one of these creatures.  I am probably coming over as a bit unsympathetic.

“I would speak to HR to see if the rules on compassionate leave should be tweaked, but frankly, they’re too nervous to give a firm line on almost anything.

“Dr. Kim, what should I do?”

Lost Boss

Dear Sorta-Boss:

You could start by acting like an actual boss.

Fire the whole HR department, for starters.  Or if you want to go all wussy, ask the entire department, individually, to give some cogent, business-oriented reasons why you should give time off for the death of a pet.  If they can’t, then fire the HR manager anyway, because she’s clearly incompetent and shouldn’t be a manager.  (I say “she” because that’s the world we live in nowadays.)

Who cares if you’ve never had a pet yourself?  That has nothing to do with the actual managing of a business which is nominally responsible for creating profit for its shareholders or owner.  It’s purely an economic decision:  can your company deal with the loss of productivity, or not?  (If it can, you may want to consider retrenching staff anyway, because you’re carrying too much employee fat.)

Finally, your snowflake employees.  I can understand needing time off to grieve the death of a family member, especially immediate family:  mother, father, grandparents, siblings.  I find it more difficult to be sympathetic about grief as the family circle starts to expand to aunts, uncles and cousins, and almost impossible to sympathize when it’s second cousins, distant cousins, nodding kin, and the like.

You may therefore take it as read that when it comes to the death of pet animals, I think that asking for time off is a colossal piece of chutzpah.  (If it’s unpaid time off, of course, then by all means give them all the time they think they need, within limits of course.  Let’s see how much they really loved Fluffy when it’s an affair of the wallet.)

Lest I be thought a martinet — it can happen — let it be known that I have never been one of those clockwatcher types of boss, myself.  If a woman wants to have her hair done and can’t get a weekend appointment, then fine — ditto a man who needs the same — especially if their job involves customer interaction, where grooming is important.  And of course time off for real medical appointments should be a given.

Frankly, while I appreciate the fact that society is changing and employees demand more indulgences from employers,  I do think that this pet-worship thing is getting out of hand (see:  “comfort animals” FFS), and it needs to be curtailed.  By the way, where does one draw the line with this:  cats, dogs, horses… also snakes, hamsters, and fucking goldfish?

And for the record, I’ve owned pets for almost all my life, I’ve indulged them more than I did my own kids, and my heart has broken at the death of every single one of them.

But as much as there’s been sorrow, I could not think of asking for time off to mourn their death, because while this may have been a factor in my life, I can’t imagine why a business should be forced into this pantomime of shared grief.

And also by the way:  you will see from the response to this question in the linked article that “Nicola” (of course) thinks that giving time off for this foolishness makes the workplace more attractive to current and prospective employees.  While I’m not advocating a return to Victorian sweatshops and textile factories, I think that today’s work environment — before this time off for pet grief nonsense — is the most congenial and employee-friendly of any generation, ever.  But it never seems to be enough now, does it?

Shape up and get your employees (especially those HR weasels) under control before it’s too late.

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim:

“I have been happily married to my husband for two years now. We met when I was in my late 20s and we tied the knot when I was 31. I’d never had a serious relationship before, and I used to travel around for work – so I’ll admit that I’d slept with a fair few people before we met.

“Not that it’s something we ever discussed.

“Last week, however, my husband told me his best friend had discovered his girlfriend’s ‘body count’ and was horrified by the total. His girlfriend had admitted to sleeping with 20 people, a number judged by my husband and his friend to be ‘extremely high’.

“Then, out of curiosity, he asked what my ‘body count’ was. And, having heard his outrage at 20, I decided to lie. A little panicked, I claimed I’d slept with no more than 15 guys.

“It turned out that my husband was disturbed even by that lower estimate – and admitted that he found ‘so many’ sexual partners to be a little off-putting.

“Yet the truth is that I’ve slept with well over 50 men, so many that I’ve lost count. Now I don’t know what to do. Should I stick to my lie and just hope the subject never comes up again?”  — Heels-Up Harriet

Dear Harlot  errrr Harriet:

It’s always so healthy to base your relationship on a total lie, isn’t it?  Okay, here’s the deal.

The topic is going to pop up again, because your hubby is clearly one of those “vulnerable” men who feels that your previous shags will form the basis of a comparison to his performance — and it might, might it not?

However, having lied and given the number as fifteen, you may as well stick with it;  but here’s how to rationalize it.  Assuming that you started at age 19 or 20 (I’m going with averages here, as most women “claim” hem hem to have lost their mimsy-wall during their first- or second year at university), that number of fifteen translates into fewer than two men a year in the decade before you met him — which, to be honest, is not that horrendous in this day and age — and if he does bring it up again, show him the math, so to speak.  (Maybe even that number will be too high for Hubby, in which case you are in deep shit — okay, deeper than you are already.)

Just pray that one of your female BFFs doesn’t let your actual number slip during a Drunken Party Episode, or as a way of getting a revenge shag out of Hubby, just for spite.

Welcome to the Sexual Minefield, honey.

Helpful Guide

Here ya go:

The best sex positions

The most searched sex positions…

Just in case you were wondering… and no, I’ve never heard of any of those positions either.

“Dear Dr. Kim:

“Dear Dr. Kim:

“I am uncomfortable about my girlfriend’s recent suggestions to spice up our sex life. Something has made her racier all of a sudden. She keeps asking to try S&M.

“She has always been adventurous when it comes to intimacy. She loves role play and dressing up. She says ordinary sex is too vanilla and boring.  Recently her tastes have become more extreme. She says she can’t get sexually excited if there isn’t an element of risk.

“Previously, I was happy to indulge her. I’ve never said no to sex in public places and I find blindfolding her a turn on. But now I’m concerned because she’s even started to mention choking.

“This for me is another thing entirely. It scares me. I don’t want to give it or receive it. Why would I want to hurt the woman I love? And I know it could go wrong. I am not prepared to take a risk. I would be devastated if she came to harm.

“I really don’t want to do any of this, but I don’t know how to refuse without making her think I am a bit of a bore in bed.

“I am 31 and she is 42. She’s a fair bit older than me and much more experienced too. We have been together for a year and I’ve really fallen for her. She’s gorgeous, clever and keeps me on my toes.  But I am scared that if I refuse her new tastes she may get bored of me. Or that she will go out looking for someone who will be more edgy – someone who doesn’t care about her like I do – and potentially put herself in danger.

“Should I say yes and hope that if we try it once she won’t want to do it again?

Apprehensive

Dear Appy,

You have only one choice.

Ditch the bitch. 

I’m afraid that this “gorgeous and clever” woman has some serious psychological issues — issues so profound that you need to put distance — lots of distance — between her insane ass and your dick.

And by the way?  This escalation of her kink is going to get worse, if you can imagine that.  (If you can’t, then that’s all the more reason to GTFO.)

I guarantee you that if you don’t leave, this infatuation that you feel for her will disappear very shortly and you’ll be left with… probably a dead body and whole lot of ‘splaining to the rozzers.

Get out now while you can.

Here Comes Another One

It will help if while reading this piece, you hum the tune to the above title (as recorded by Monty Python on their final album).

It was only last week when I slotted this little item into a News Roundup:

…and here’s an update, with a younger member of the Nostradamus Tribe being a little more cagey, timewise:

A man who has been dubbed the ‘living Nostradamus’ claims ‘the worst is yet to come’, suggesting the world is teetering on the edge of WWIII.  

Athos Salomé, 36, who is a trained parapsychologist from Brazil, is often referred to as a psychic due to the accuracy of his insights and predictions, after previously foreseeing the coronavirus pandemic, Elon Musk buying Twitter, now called X, and even Queen Elizabeth II’s death.

Now, as people worry about the escalation of conflicts and humanitarian crises, he warns that ‘a small incident’ could set off a series of terrifying events. 

Key phrase:  “trained parapsychologist” (one could be snarky and add “Brazil”, but if we’ve learned anything, it’s that these loons can pop up anywhere).

If these Nostradami actually worked as advertised, they wouldn’t be hammering on about global catastrophes — at least, I wouldn’t, if endowed with these magical powers.

I certainly wouldn’t be blathering on vaguely about nonsense like “And there shall be a great pestilence come upon the land” [at some unmentioned date, in some unmentioned country].

No, I would be ensconced in the Presidential Suite at the Hôtel de Paris in Monte Carlo, paying for my accommodation (not to mention more than a few unsavory indulgences) by plonking a grand or so on 27 at the Casino’s roulette wheel each night.  That’s at least a useful application of the magic power, and not providing fodder for some crappy newspaper’s This Week’s Things To Panic About! section.

But perhaps I’m being too dismissive.

Sarajevo, anyone?  As Bismarck once said, it will be just some damn thing in the Balkans… now that was an accurate prediction.

RFI: Ireland

From Adopted Daughter:

“Hi Papa.  Could you ask your Readers for advice on visiting Ireland?  I’ll be staying at Lough Rynn Castle near Carrick-on-Shannon in August, but other than the castle itself, I don’t know anything about the area (County Leitrim).”

Here’s Lough Rynn, which appears to be a shabby little place:

I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ babies  traveling in Ireland, never having been there myself, so all advice, experiences and warnings will be welcome.