Incompetents Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from incompetence. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop being incompetent.
The world needs less incompetence. According to US Senator Rand Paul, “the United States wasted $900 billion in 2023 on a range of projects that highlight the government’s ineptitude and wasteful expenditure.” Levels of incompetence wasn’t much better within the European Union, which is well documented in Scandals, silliness and sloth: The best of EU incompetence 2023. Here in Canada, we are not immune to Federal Government ineptitudes that also point to a whole-of-government incompetence.
Not to worry, because a solution to incompetence can be found in the world’s first 12+1 step self-help group, Incompetence Anonymous (IA). That is right, and what better time to join IA than as part of a New Year’s resolution? Traditional New Year resolutions include stopping smoking or drinking alcohol, losing weight, exercising, or helping others. Why not add becoming a member of IA to the list?
The IA movement borrows heavily from the traditional 12-step recovery process while taking into account the unique issues surrounding the recovery needs of incompetents. These unique characteristics of incompetents, as compared to addicts, inspired the IA movement:
Addicts must hit a personal “rock bottom” before authentic recovery can begin. For addicts, this bottom is often very traumatic and obvious. Incompetents, on the other hand, tend to hold senior positions in a bureaucracy and are often oblivious to the ills of their incompetence. An oblivious incompetent is a more difficult nut to crack.
Traditional recovery programs emphasize the anonymous aspect of the process. Incompetents are not anonymous to anyone other than themselves.
A functional addict can still be a competent worker, but the concept of a “functional incompetent” is an oxymoron.
Challenges inherent in dealing with incompetents have necessitated the inclusion of an additional step in the IA recovery process. The added step makes IA the world’s first 12 +1 step self-help recovery program.
The Audacity Prayer is to Incompetents Anonymous what the Serenity Prayer is to Alcoholics Anonymous.
The Audacity Prayer: Grant me the authority to eliminate those who will not follow, the ability to terrorize those who remain, and the audacity not to care about the difference.
The IA triangle also borrows from the traditional Alcoholics Anonymous triangle, but rather than emphasize AA’s three-part solution to addiction (unity, recovery, and service), the IA triangle reflects the three key personality traits most often associated with an incompetent’s mindset (denial, immunity, and self-service). The 12+1 IA Steps, also based on the traditional AA Steps, have been enhanced with the addition of a 13th step and the creation of various related IA support groups for those dealing directly or indirectly with an incompetent.
Now, for the first time, you can show the world you are a proud member of the IA movement by wearing your very own IA T-shirt.
The shirt is unisex sized (S, M, L, XL, 2XL), 90% cotton and 10% polyester. They can be purchased directly from Sticker Mule for $23 (including tax and free shipping in Canada) here or by contacting the good doctor, the creator of IA at drstrangejob@gmail.com.
If you purchase a T-shirt, then send the good Doctor an email. Verified purchases dated prior to March 1, 2025 will be entered into a draw for a free IA key chain.
Help save the world by joining IA and win a chance for a free key chain by purchasing a T-shirt.
Yours in competence – Dr. StrangeJob
Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob.
The death of Madi was tough on Dr. StrangeJob, and he is considering shutting down InComps. Madi, his close friend, served as the group’s Chief of Intellectual Guerrilla Activities. She was also the brains behind many of the group’s missions.
Conflicted about what to do, StrangeJob asked Doc Spinolee to meet at Doktor Luke’s to discuss the group’s future. Spinolee is a retired professor and the intellectual leader of the group. Spinolee also serves as the moral compass for InComps.
“Thanks for coming,” StrangeJob says to Spinolee. “I want your advice on whether to disband the group. I am not sure if we should keep it going after Madi’s death.”
Spinolee, looking distracted, nods in agreement that Madi’s loss is tough on the group. “Perhaps we should consider what Madi would want to do before you decide,” says Spinolee.
StrangeJob, noticing that Spinolee seems a bit off today, asks him if he is doing OK.
“I think I am losing my marbles,” replies Spinolee.
“Hey, I have known you for many years and have never questioned your intellect, so I don’t think you are having any issues,” replies StrangeJob.
“I don’t think you understand,” says Spinolee. “I have lost my marbles, and I’ve looked everywhere!”
StrangeJob was puzzled by his friend’s concern when they were distracted by a boisterous discussion at the adjacent table, a group complaining about the province’s plan for a Pallet Shelter in Whitney Pier. Some Pier residents were upset that 30 homeless people would be housed at the site, including druggies and thieves. Some have complained about Ally Centre clients and the homeless shelter downtown, so these Pier residents were concerned that the pallet site would result in similar issues.
“You and Madi were from the Pier, and she lived there when she passed,” says Spinolee. “What do you think about the plans for the pallet site?”
“That’s a tough call,” says StrangeJob. “I have been in recovery for over 30 years and can appreciate the needs of those with addictions, but, like others, I would worry about the potential problems that the site could bring.”
“Perhaps,” replies Spinolee. “However, as I understand, the pallet site will have stringent rules, 24/7 security, and a formal selection process for prospective residents. Perhaps the concern is more about property values than for the betterment of those in need.”
“Yes, I heard concerns about property values,” replies StrangeJob. “That might bother me too, so the not-in-my-neighborhood issue is legit. Someone already lost out on a home sale after the announcement for the pallet site.”
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude,” says Spinolee, “but shouldn’t we look at this from a moral perspective? Homeless people are suffering in this weather. Didn’t a local unhoused person die recently?”
“Yeah, that’s true, a person sleeping between two dumpsters behind Sobeys died,” replies StrangeJob. “There wasn’t much news about what happened to them, so I am guessing the person either froze or overdosed. The powers that be didn’t want any negative publicity, especially after all the hassle with the New Dawn affordable housing initiative in the North End and the recent complaints about the goings on at the Ally Centre and the homeless shelter downtown.”
“I know about the concerns over New Dawn’s affordable housing project,” says Spinolee. “But what about the Ally Centre and the homeless shelter?
“Some clients have addiction and mental health issues,” replies StrangeJob. “And some have been disruptive, causing grief for downtown business owners and area residents. I haven’t witnessed any of the shenanigans, but I have heard stories about drug use, violence, and other nefarious activities as witnessed by the public.”
“If that’s true, then blocking the pallet shelters might prevent those ready and willing to seek help from receiving needed services. That could make the problems worse,” says Spinolee.
“Fair point,” says StrangeJob. “But a concern is that once the pallets are in the Pier, they will also move the Centre and the shelter down there.”
“It sounds like the mosaic melting pot is boiling over,” says Spinolee.
Their conversation was interrupted again by the ruckus at the adjacent table. Another customer overheard the group complaining about the pallet site and added their two cents’ worth.
Alex, Madi’s good friend and new InComps member, was upset with the table’s discussion and wanted to set the record straight.
“Don’t you realize people are dying out there?” says Alex. “We need to do something to help.”
The table conversation started getting heated when Spinolee noticed Alex and waved him over.
“Hey Alex, it sounds like you are barking up the wrong tree with that group,” says Spinolee. “Let’s not start any loud arguments with them, especially in public. We don’t want to disturb the other customers.”
“Well, maybe they need to be disturbed,” retorts Alex. “Don’t you two know there are members of InComps living in tents as we speak?”
“I didn’t know that,” replies StrangeJob. “If you know who they are, can you ask them to talk to us about their experiences?”
“Yes, I will,” replies Alex. “The more personal stories people hear about homeless struggles the better. I’ll let you know. What do you think Madi would say about the pallet homes?”
“She would be the first to volunteer her support,” replies StrangeJob.
“What would she say to the site’s detractors?” asks Spinolee.
“She would likely tell them to pitch a tent at the proposed site and spend a few nights in the cold to see if that changes their opinion,” states StrangeJob. “I doubt the detractors could hack a few nights out in the cold. They would rather be at home pontificating at their keyboards.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Spinolee retorts. “Again, perhaps we must look at this from a moral perspective. Shouldn’t all other concerns be secondary if the pallets could prevent a single death?”
“You’re right, so what should we do about it?” says StrangeJob.
“We need to support the pallets, but we should insist that the community be more involved with the process, including the client selection process and site monitoring.”
StrangeJob was about to reply when he noticed Mary walking into the coffee shop. Mary is Spinolee’s significant other and an amateur sleuth with a fondness for Agatha Christie’s adventures.
“Hey, there’s Mary,” says StrangeJob. “Let’s see what she thinks about the pallets.”
Spinolee’s mood was lifted as soon as Mary joined them for tea.
“Where have you been all day?” asks Spinolee to Mary. “I looked for you everywhere!”
StrangeJob suddenly realized the reason for Spinolee’s earlier distraction and his concern over losing his marbles. Mary’s full name is Miss Mary Marbles.
“Hi Mary, how’s the amateur sleuthing going?” asks StrangeJob.
“I was down the Pier checking out the proposed pallet site and researching some of the concerns people have with it,” replies Miss Marble.
“We just discussed that issue,” says Spinolee. What are your thoughts on the site?”
“I think InComps should make it their next adventure,” says Miss Marbles.
To be continued …
Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob.
I finally started my book Dr. StrangeJob Or: How I Learned to Stop Raging and Embrace the Bull. I will post updates as things develop, but here is the introduction ‘to pique your interest.
Introduction
The Peter Principle was first published in 1969 by Dr. Lawrence J. Peter and Raymond Hull. The principle states: “In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence.” Although the Peter Principle refers to the incompetent as male, it is likely a reflection of the time the principle was developed rather than an assumption that only males are incompetent. On the other hand, I have met more incompetent males than females in my day, so maybe the authors were more insightful than I have given them credit for.
The classic example of the Peter Principle can be found in the field of education; take, for example, the competent teacher whose lack of administrative skills becomes painfully evident after being promoted to principal. If the promotion causes significant disruption in the workplace, then the principal is either promoted to district manager or remains in a state of incompetent stagnation until retirement. Simply put, given any hierarchy, all employees tend to rise to their level of incompetence.
The Peter Principle does not discriminate against race, age, sex, or political party (OK, maybe by political affiliation). Look to any hierarchical organization in which you belong to witness the Peter Principle in practice. Gaze down the organizational ladder, and you will see competent employees in search of a promotion or incompetent employees likely to receive a promotion. Gaze upwards on the organizational ladder, and you will find incompetent employees in search of a golden handshake or competent ones about to be downsized. Gaze in the mirror to determine your competence level, but do not be fooled by what you think you see.
If you cannot evaluate your competence level, then you may have already reached your level of incompetence within that particular hierarchical structure. However, if you can determine your competence level, there may still be hope for you – unless, of course, you are incompetent at judging competence.
It’s a Catch-22. If you can see incompetence within your hierarchy, you may not have reached your level of incompetence. If, on the other hand, you cannot see incompetence, then you are likely already there. In other words, you are either in on the joke of Dr. StrangeJob, or you are a part of the joke of Dr. StrangeJob. If you are in on the joke, then tag along for the ride. If you are a part of the joke, then you probably stopped reading by now and are likely beyond redemption.
Does Dr. StrangeJob have the competence to write a book on incompetence? I believe so because thirteen years of industry experience in information systems, thirteen years of full-time post-secondary teaching experience, and five years in post-secondary program management have provided daily opportunities to see the Peter Principle in practice.
Although some may disagree, I believe I have managed to maintain a semblance of sanity after surviving over 30 years in a workforce fraught with incompetence, insanity, cronyism, and nepotism or controlled by psychopaths, sociopaths, and arseholes. Somehow, I was always able to find humour in the chaos. This project is my attempt at maintaining that sanity.
The idea for this book came to me during my last day of work at a local university. At the time, I was in a managerial position, being reclassified into a position I did not want to pursue. Although not ready to retire, I decided it was my time to leave. As I cleared out my overhead file cabinet, I stumbled upon an old file folder brimmed with work-related musings, notes, clippings, anecdotes, emails, and organizational reflections I had collected during my work career. The file folder was labelled “Work Shit,” and each item had not only passed my initial smell test but also managed to remain fragrant with each successive viewing.
I had the idea to use the folder’s contents as fodder for a satirical look at life in the workplace, but I needed a framework to tie the material together. Circumstances and three disparate events collided to form a skeleton for the manuscript.
I recently purchased the fortieth-anniversary edition of The Peter Principle by Lawrence J. Peter and Raymond Hull. The principle is as applicable today as it was in 1969.
I watched the forty-fifth anniversary edition of Stanley Kubrick’s film Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. Unfortunately, the film’s subtext is as relevant today as it was in 1964. Oh, my precious bodily fluids.
I reorganized my home library and stumbled upon my collection of Kurt Vonnegut Jr. novels.
Presto!!!
The framework became a satirical text of propositions ruminating on the continued relevance of the Peter Principle within the context of my work experience.
And so it goes…
Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob.
Christmas Past: It was one of those family Christmas holidays, the kind that makes you no longer care about family Christmas holidays. Traditionally, my role was to set up the artificial tree and string the lights. My mother would then organize a tree-decorating party complete with family, friends, bells, tinsel, angel hair and Christmas cheer. At the end of the holidays, my mother would remove the decorations, and I would store the tree for the next year.
It was a particularly frantic Christmas holiday: my parents were not getting along, the alcohol consumption meter was on overload, and bickering, pestering, and petty rivalries ensued. Each family crisis was supplanted by the next in a nightmare of unseasonable behavior. What is it about Christmas that brings out the worst in some people?
There was no tree-decorating party that year: my mother decorated the tree by herself. I could have helped, but I was too busy living in my own little world. It hadn’t occurred to me that I was the only family available that year to help with the decorations. I was glad when the holidays were finally over, and I could fulfill my responsibilities by packing the tree away for the next year.
It was a fitting end to the Christmas of little cheer when I lost my prized Tiger’s Eye ring. As a crystal, a Tiger’s Eye is supposed to promote harmony and balance while releasing anxiety and fear. So much for that theory, I thought, as I searched the house from top to bottom for my missing ring. I was glad the holidays were over.
Family life settled down by the next Christmas. There was a spirit of reconciliation in the air, and I was looking forward to that year’s celebrations. The previous year’s despair gave way to a glimmer of hope. With guarded optimism, I set about unpacking the family Christmas tree when I heard a “clunk” as something dropped to the floor – it was the Tiger’s Eye ring that I had lost the year before. The ring must have been caught on a branch when I was packing the tree. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come. That Christmas was a good one, and as Christmas holidays go, it was certainly better than the few that preceded it.
Fortunately, Christmas is but once a year. My parents eventually separated, siblings divorced, friendships waned, and I managed to lose the Tiger’s Eye ring yet again.
Christmas Present: I detest the commercialization of Christmas. Walmart starts playing Christmas music after Remembrance Day, and the Dollar Store sells Christmas decorations after Halloween. I know I’m cynical, but I wish people would discuss world peace, love and kindness as enthusiastically as they put up dead trees for a holiday that benefits world corporations more than world compassion. That said, I still celebrate Orthodox Christmas. By that time, the marketing madness is over, and we get to buy gifts at Boxing Day sale prices.
I stopped decorating for the holidays many years ago. Other than a wedding band, I also stopped wearing rings, but for some reason, this year, I decided to go on a hunt for my missing Tiger’s Eye. I didn’t find it, but I did find four other misplaced rings: a birthstone, a graduation ring, a pinky-ring with a black stone of unknown origin, and a cubic zirconia diamond that belonged to my father. But no Tiger’s Eye. Perhaps my Tiger’s Eye is lost forever, or perhaps it is still waiting to be found.
Christmas Future: Am I 86 years old or 87? I can’t remember. Perhaps I’m older; maybe I’m younger. I’m not really sure. Ever since I moved into the seniors complex, things have been a bit fuzzy. It’s Christmas, at least that’s what they tell me. Not that it matters, but perhaps we will have a good meal tonight. My family is all gone, but I smile at the passersby as I think back to days of Christmas past. Sure, there were bad times, but there are also pleasant memories. I remember my dad taking us to the Salvation Army one Christmas. I was only three or four at the time. I don’t remember what present they gave me, but I do remember the spirit of kindness in the room. Isn’t it funny how the poor times seemed like the best times? It wasn’t about money or commercialism or who got the best gifts; it was about family. That was the best Christmas.
I did buy myself a nice gift this year. I ordered it online about a month ago, and it arrived yesterday. I don’t know why I bought it. It was just one of those items they were selling on the shopper’s channel that caught my attention – a Tiger’s Eye ring. I have a vague memory about another Tiger’s Eye ring that I can’t quite piece together, but there is something about my new ring that provides me with a sense of belonging.
I wear it proudly and show it off to all of my friends at the Christmas party. I even show it to Santa. We all know that Santa is the home’s chef, but he is a jolly man and has a kind word to say to us all. He admires my ring and seems to know that it has some underlying meaning or significance to me.
I find myself reflecting on Christmases past, but my thoughts are clouded by fleeting memories of family and friends no longer here. Not all the memories are positive, but then again, there were some happy family times along the way. Yes, there was something about a missing ring, but, for now, I am grateful for what I have today. I will hang onto these memories for as long as I can.
My only regret was not helping my mother with the Christmas tree so many years ago. For some reason, that memory remains intact. Perhaps I can help someone at the home decorate their room this year. Just in case, I will store my new Tiger’s Eye ring away for safe keeping. I have a habit of misplacing things these days. Perhaps next year I will dig out the box of Christmas decorations that I stored away. You never know what memories I might find.
Dr. StrangeJob wanted the InComps’ fundraising event to be a blast. He acquired a truckload of discounted fireworks to sell and rented a local warehouse. He asked members of InComps to brainstorm ideas for the event. In their contrarian fashion, the group eventually settled on “Dr. StrangeJob’s House of Horrors, Seniors’ Health Workshop, and Fireworks Emporium”.
Unfortunately, just before the event, the booked venue shut down due to Covid. Luckily, Dr. StrangeJob quickly came up with a new plan. Grabbing his phone, he called his colleague Andre Le Pouce Vert.
“Hey, Andre, it’s Dr. StrangeJob. I need your help again.”
“Sure, what’s up,” replies Andre.
“We had planned a Halloween event to sell fireworks and stuff,” says StrangeJob, “but we just lost the location, so I decided to move the event to the waterfront by the Big Fiddle. We don’t have any permits, but I’m hoping you can help us set things up and keep security off our backs.”
“Sounds like déjà vu,” says Andre, “You can count me in. I still don’t get why they built a 60-foot fiddle next to the Cruise Pavilion”.
“I guess some marketing guru must have decided that the “World’s Largest Fiddle” would bring more cruise ships to the Port,” replies StrangeJob. “Speaking of which, there’s a cruise ship in tomorrow, so the plan is to set up by noon. If anyone in the group is asked about permits or such, they will direct the questions to you. All you need to do is keep security baffled like you did the last time by speaking in your best Quebec French regional dialect.”
“J’va le faire,” exclaims Andre.
“One more thing,” notes StrangeJob, “If you still have the van and portable generator, can you pick up Miss Mackie and her industrial strength fan? This damn heatwave will never end, and she wants to use it for her seniors’ yoga class.”
The next day…
The events are about to begin. Dr. StrangeJob had safely stored the fireworks in the shade behind the Big Fiddle. He was strolling around the Big Fiddle, asking bystanders if they were interested in purchasing fireworks on the cheap. Madi was busy selling her homemade high-fibre black bean brownies to the crowd of seniors waiting for the yoga class to start. She had already set up her table, complete with a decorative crystal ball, for her astrological readings. Jesse, a new group member, was setting up her Tarot readings table and a selection of patchouli-scented windproof candles for sale. Psycho Sam, wearing his favorite kilt, was organizing equipment for his fire-eating demonstration. Zippy was recording the event with his drone and keeping Andre informed of the Port Security’s whereabouts.
It was a perfect day, with a perfect plan. What could go wrong?
What transpired next is still under investigation, but the police have classified Dr. StrangeJob’s disappearance as a misadventure with extenuating circumstances. His final destination is currently unknown.
The exact chronology of events has not yet been confirmed, but it went something like this: Miss Mackie and about 20 seniors were practicing the downward-dog and wind-relieving poses when Madie’s high-fibre black bean brownies kicked in. Miss Mackie determined this as the opportune time to turn on her industrial strength fan. The resulting image of Psycho Sam with kilt blown from under sent a wave of shock and awe through the crowd. This was also the exact moment that Psycho Sam was completing his first fire breathing exercise. “Not again!” screamed Psycho Sam, just as the methane ignited by his fire-eating demonstration burned off his eyebrows and made any further manscaping redundant.
Who knew that 20 seniors could pass so much gas?
Sam’s up-kilting and the blast of methane flame startled Madi. Jumping from her booth, she inadvertently knocked the crystal ball from her table. The crystal ball then rolled into the corner of Jesse’s booth, knocking one of the pre-lit pachouli windproof candles to the ground.
Things get a bit sketchy from this point. Unfortunately, the Port’s security cameras had stopped recording while Port Security personnel were busy reviewing Sam’s kilt malfunction. However, according to Zippy’s drone footage, the pre-lit patchouli windproof candle was last seen rolling towards the back of the Big Fiddle.
That’s when things blew-up! Calling it an explosion would be an understatement. The combination of the black bean brownie-fueled methane blast, Psycho Sam’s fiery breath, and candle-ignited fireworks resulted in a huge, thunderous, and dazzling fireball that shook the foundations of the Sydney wharf. The resulting tsunami swept the docked cruise ship up the harbour, knocking a partially constructed new building off its pillared foundation.
Meanwhile, between photo-ops, the Mayor had just popped into their office, for a quick review of weekly social media reports. Their communication team had raised concerns about online chatter critical to current municipal policies and procedures. The Mayor was particularly concerned with reports of recent activities of Dr. StrangeJob. StrangeJob had given the previous administration plenty of trouble, and there was talk that he was considering another run for civic politics. Just as the Mayor was blocking Dr. StrangeJob from their social media accounts, they were distracted by the noise and cascade of fireworks. The view from her harbour window was startling. Shocked, they watched as what appeared to be Dr. StrangeJob riding the World’s Largest Fiddle mid-flight, spiraling towards Sydney River.
Meanwhile, Andre had safely dispersed the crowd hanging around the Big Fiddle and managed to get the Incomps members safely into the back of his truck. He was barreling down the Esplanade in his best “storm-chaser” mode just as the World’s Largest Fiddle took a sharp downward dive towards the middle of Sydney Harbour.
Dr. StrangeJob, on the other hand, had just remembered the punchline to an old question/answer joke. The question was, “What goes through a fly’s mind when it hits the windshield of a car?” He also wondered what happened to the 48 million litres of untreated wastewater that had recently escaped into the harbour. As usual, he always seemed to find himself right in the middle of it.
Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob. Previous InComps episodes can be found @ www.drstrangejob.ca.
To maintain secrecy and avoid suspicion, InComps hold their clandestine meetings at various coffee shops throughout the area. Tim Hortons in the Pier, for example, is so noisy that the group is relatively safe from any form of eavesdropping. The InComps huddle inconspicuously in a corner booth, meticulously camouflaged as a group of 12 steppers holding an after-meeting group discussion. Just another bunch of anonymous caffeine addicts gobbling sugar treats.
Several group members have joined Dr. StrangeJob: Madi, the group’s Chief of Intellectual Guerrilla Activities; Doc Spinolee, a retired professor and intellect of the group; Psycho Sam, the group’s kilt-wearing Communications Officer with a penchant for forest fires; Zippy, the group’s techie; and Miss Mackie, an 80-year-old recently retired schoolteacher.
“Thanks for coming to this emergency meeting,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “As most of you know, I was born and raised in the Pier. I’m concerned that the townies planned a Santa Claus parade with a new route that excludes the Pier. We all know the original Santa parade was started by merchants in the Pier and it’s a tradition that the parade starts or stops in the Pier.”
“It’s all about equality,” clarifies Madi, as her rainbow dyed hair catches the attention of Miss Mackie.
“Interesting dye job,” Miss Mackie whispers to Zippy. “What’s the story there?”
“Oh, Madi came out recently and they came out loud and proud,” replies Zippy.
“You’re sounding a little cliché there aren’t you Zip?” says Miss Mackie.
“No,” retorts Zippy. “In fact, check out Madi’s new glasses! No more progressive or transitional lenses for them. Even their new glasses are clearly bi-focal.”
Dr. StrangeJob continues sharing his concern about the parade and asks for suggestions about what they should do about it.
“I got an idea,’ shouts Psycho Sam. “Let’s blow up the overpass and create our own city. Show those townies that we won’t stand for being treated unfairly.”
“Sorry Sam.” interjects Doc Spinolee, “We only support non-violent civil disobedience. Besides the overpass is no longer the only way to the Pier, there is still SPAR Road.
“Please stop referring to SPAR as SPAR Road,” pleads Miss Mackie. “SPAR stands for Sydney Port Access ROAD, so calling it SPAR Road is redundant!”
“Let’s get back to the topic at hand,” interjects Dr. StrangeJob. “I don’t like the way this whole thing played out. CBRM claims the parade was started from an independent group of townie business owners. However, the Mayor had reached out to the townie business community and CBRM is covering the insurance costs, so this sure sounds like it’s a CBRM event to me! The new Mayor is starting to sound a lot like the old Mayor.”
“You got that right,” says Madi, “and don’t get me started about in-camera meetings, communication blunders or how a call of interests for waterfront development ends up with only one alternative. That’s like posting a job and selecting only one candidate for a public interview.”
“It’s like we all need someone to look down on,” says Zippy. “The Townies treat the Pier unfairly, CBRM treats the rest of Cape Breton unfairly, and the mainland craps all over the island.”
“You know, the mayor received threats over the parade issue,” interjects Miss Mackie. “That is just so wrong on so many levels”.
“Yeah, that is not who we are,” exclaims Maddi.
“Another cliché! I detest hearing someone say – this is not who we are – whenever something like this happens,” interjects Miss Mackie. “The first step in solving any problem is admitting you have a problem. If this is not who we are, then it’s pretty close to who we are becoming”.
“Hooray,” shouts Zippy, “I just saw a Twitter post saying the parade will now go to the Pier”.
“Well, I guess our Facebook and Twitter posts worked this time,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “But the parade issue is just a symptom of the lack of fairness that is given to the Pier. We still need to fight for the Pier. Besides, if we hadn’t raised a stink bigger than the Steel Plant, then nothing would have changed.”
“Like I said,” shouts Psycho Sam. “Let’s blow up the overpass where it crosses over the SPA Road and shut down both SPAR and the overpass at the same time”.
“No Sam!” insists Doc Spinolee. “I believe we need to be better informed of our options and like the Doctor just said, we need to look at the big picture. Perhaps we need to talk to someone with experience in equalization and fairness issues.”
“How about someone from the Nova Scotians for Equalization Fairness group?” suggests Zippy. “They have been dealing with Cape Breton equalization underfunding by the Provincial government for over 25 years. They should have some pointers to help us deal with the Pier’s equalization issues.”
“Excellent idea Zippy,” replies Dr. StrangeJob. “I remember Father Maroun from the College of Cape Breton days back in the 70’s. That guy is smart, and he has been fighting the good fight for years.”
“I agree,” say Doc Spinolee. “We need to look at the big picture. This is not just about the Santa Claus parade. It’s about making informed decisions and ensuring trustworthy resources.”
“What do you mean?” asks Zippy.
“Well, if you want to be informed about the issue of equalization, then we have two key sources to choose from,” explains Dr. StrangeJob. “You can trust a 90-year-old educator and Priest who holds four Bachelor’s degrees, two Master’s degrees, plus a PhD or a conglomerate of politicians and business types.”
“We should try to connect with the NSEF,” says Madi, “but that will take some time. We need to think of something that we can do now.”
“I have an idea,” interjects Miss Mackie. “Let’s remove some of those Christmas lights and wreaths from Charlotte Street and put them up in the Pier”.
“You’re not talking about stealing Christmas decorations, are you?” asks Doc Spinolee. “Stealing is not in our mandate!”
“No, don’t think of it as stealing,” answers Miss Mackie. “Think of it as a reallocation of existing resources that, as taxpayers, we have all paid for. I was downtown yesterday and there were Christmas wreaths and lights hanging all over Charlotte Street. Walk around the Pier and you don’t see near the same amount.”
“Hey, this is like we were going to do with the hanging flower baskets a few years ago,” explains Madi. “Remember we planned to take, or should I say liberate, the flower baskets from downtown and drop them off at the seniors’ complex.”
“I remember that” says Zippy. “But it seems unfair to just take the wreaths and not replace them with something.”
“Good point Zippy,” notes Dr StrangeJob. “With the flower baskets, we decided to replace them with kale baskets for free food. Perhaps we have an opportunity to make the point that there is life on the other side of the overpass. Any ideas?”
“Well, in the Christmas spirit of Santa knowing who is naughty or nice,” muses Miss Mackie. “Let’s replace the existing wreaths in town with wreaths made of chunks of coal. That will send the message that they are not being nice to the rest of us”.
“Brilliant!” exclaims Dr. StrangeJob, “But let’s make sure we don’t use any coal from the Donkin mine, that would be an accident waiting to happen”.
“Won’t the new route make for a long walk for the elderly or kids in the parade,” interjects Maddi.
“You can’t please everyone,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “That’s what happens when you are born on the wrong side of the tracks.”
“Enough with the cliches already!” exclaims Miss Mackie.
“Yes, I guess we can do better,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “It might be an uphill battle, but we do need to think outside of the box and perhaps make some tough decisions”.
Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob. Previous InComps episodes can be found @ www.drstrangejob.ca.
To maintain secrecy and avoid suspicion, InComps generally hold their clandestine meetings at various coffee shops throughout the area. The InComps huddle inconspicuously in a corner booth, meticulously camouflaged as a group of 12 steppers holding an after-meeting group discussion. Today’s meeting, however, has been advertised on social media as a celebration of life for Madi, one of the group’s recently lost members, at Doktor Luke’s on Prince Street.
Madi served as the group’s Chief of Intellectual Guerrilla Activities (IGA) since its conception and was the brains behind many of the group’s missions. Madi was also a firm believer in non-violent resistance and a proud member of the local 2SLGTBQIA+ community.
“I will start by thanking you all for attending Madi’s celebration of life,” says Dr. StrangeJob, “As most of you are aware, Madi was diagnosed with cancer and chose to end her life using medically assisted dying. I would like to use this gathering to share personal stories about Madi,” continues Dr. StrangeJob. “In my case, as many of you are aware, Madi and I were close. We both came from the same womb. This made us relatives, but we became friends on our own. Would anyone like to share a story about Madi?”
“Sure, I will start,” says Patti O’Lantern, an elderly martial artist, “This story goes back a few years when I was involved in global politics and heading to Nicaragua. Madi and I had many discussions on how to get people to care about what’s going on in other countries, not to mention our own. We concluded that the surest way was to get involved with someone sexually and bring them into the fold. We called this fucking for the revolution.”
Zippy, the group’s techie, interrupts Patti while enthusiastically volunteering to develop an InComps recruitment committee.
“I’ll sign up for that committee as well,” interjects Psycho Sam, the group’s kilt-wearing Communications Officer with a penchant for forest fires.
“I don’t like where this is heading,” interjects Doc Spinolee, a retired professor and moral compass of the group.
“What a bunch of losers.” chuckles Miss Mackie, the 80-year-old recently retired schoolteacher, “The only way you guys will ever get laid is when you are laid to rest!”
It was at this point that all hell broke loose at the meeting. Two old dudes brandishing crucifixes rush into the middle of the room, apparently set on performing some sort of group exorcism.
“Begone! You heathens, you homo-sex-uals, you bunch of left-wing commies,” shouts Dude 1.
“The body of Christ compels you! The body of Christ compels you!” exclaims Dude 2, vigorously waiving his crucifix around the room.
Pandemonium ensues.
Artwork by Joel Inglis
Patti asks Psycho Sam who these two guys are.
“I believe they belong to that anti-vaxxer, convoy-supporting, and anti-gay group from up the road,” answers Psycho Sam.
Zippy adds, “Yes, they are part of that group that protests at city hall.”
“What do they protest?” asks Patti.
“Oh, just about anything that is not extreme right-wing politics,” answers Psycho Sam, “Be careful around that group. They can be as nasty as a clan of hyenas.”
Meanwhile, Dr. StrangeJob, who had anticipated these characters might try to interfere with the meeting, had prearranged for a close friend of Madi’s to be on standby in case he was needed. Madi’s Mad Apprentice is a giant of a man at 6’8″ and 275 pounds. He has had previous encounters with members of this group and recently won a court case against them.
Dr. StrangeJob sternly speaks to the old dudes, “This is not the place nor time for these shenanigans. Please leave now, or I will have Madi’s Mad Apprentice come here to escort you out.”
The old dudes do not comply, so Dr. StrangeJob sends a quick text message to Madi’s Mad Apprentice, who is stationed just around the corner from the coffee shop.
The Apprentice, dressed in full protest regalia complete with a body cam, waving an Anti-Fascist flag, and wearing a menacing airsoft helmet, struts into the coffee shop with a booming voice commanding the old dudes to leave.
The room becomes silent. The old dudes stare at the Apprentice in fear. Dr. StrangeJob looks at the Apprentice sternly and quietly reminds him that Madi was all about non-violence and reminds him to stick with the plan. The Apprentice saunters closer to the old dudes and quietly sits down next to them, removes his mask, and begins reading a book on the life and teachings of Gandhi.
Breaking the silence, Patti O’Lantern, who is also a practicing trauma specialist, decides to take action in an attempt to defuse the situation, suggesting it is time for the old dudes to be gone. She moves behind Madi’s Apprentice and states calmly and firmly, “Begone! The spirit of Madi compels you. Begone! The spirit of Madi compels you.”
One by one, the remaining InComps members stand facing the old dudes, joining Patti and repeating in unison, “Begone! The spirit of Madi compels you. Begone! The spirit of Madi compels you.”
The old dudes, realizing they are in a no-win situation, quickly skulk out of the coffee shop.
“Now that is what I call passive resistance. Madi would be proud,” declares Dr. StrangeJob, who resists telling the two old dudes where they should stick their crosses as they slither from the coffee shop.
“Foiled again by that damn Apprentice,” says Dude 1, “What are we going to do now?”
“Well, I hear there are drag races this weekend somewhere out by the university,” replies Dude 2, “We didn’t stop them warping our children’s minds during the drag story sessions at the library, but perhaps we can save some of those sinners at their drag races.”
“Well, that was interesting,” says Dr. StrangeJob, looking at his watch. “Damn, it looks like we are running out of time for today’s meeting, but perhaps we can have one more story,” says Dr. StrangeJob, “Do you have anything to share Snoopy?”
“Yes, I do,” says Snoopy, the intrepid investigative reporter from the Spectacle. “Madi was one of the earliest and staunchest supporters of the Spectacle. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that without Madi, the Spectacle might have existed but would not have survived. The last thing Madi said to me was a piece of advice: they told me that memory is a form of time travel and when I miss them, I should just think really hard about a time we’d had together and it would be like seeing them again.”
“That made sense to me,” continues Snoopy, “So the last thing I said to Madi was that I’d be seeing them soon.”
“That’s so touching Snoopy,” says Dr StrangeJob, “Thanks for sharing. I think that’s a perfect way to end this meeting.”
Holding back tears, Dr StrangeJob adjourns the meeting, saying, “Madi, I will see you soon, kiddo.”
Dr. StrangeJob
Dedication: This episode is dedicated to madeline yakimchuk. This episode was previously published in the Autumn 2023 edition of ‘Magine: Unama’ki / Cape Breton’s Literary Magazine. Sketches are courtesy of Joel Inglis.
Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob. Previous InComps episodes can be found @ www.drstrangejob.ca.
To maintain secrecy and avoid suspicion, InComps hold their clandestine meetings at various coffee shops throughout the area. The Whitney Pier Tim Hortons, for example, is so noisy that the group is relatively safe from any form of eavesdropping. The InComps huddle inconspicuously in a corner booth, camouflaged as a group of 12 steppers holding an after-meeting group discussion – just another bunch of anonymous caffeine addicts gobbling sugar treats.
Attending today’s session are Dr. StrangeJob, Doc Spinolee, Madi, Miss Mackie, Psycho Sam, and Andre (Le Pouce Vert).
“I’d like to open the meeting with an apology,” states Dr. StrangeJob.
Staring at Madi, he continues, “It appears someone leaked a few of my early Tweets and some could be considered damaging.”
“Do you mean those nasty tweets about career politicians?” inquires Spinolee.
“Yes,” says StrangeJob, “but those statements were from a different time and a different mindset.”
“Wait a minute!” interjects Andre, “Didn’t you make those tweets yesterday?”
“Yes, but it was during a low point in my day,” retorts StrangeJob.
Spinolee, staring at StrangeJob with his eerily ethical eyes, “Are you seriously suggesting that you have changed your negative views about career politicians since yesterday?”
“Of course not,” snaps StrangeJob, “but isn’t it all a matter of degree? People have been forgiven for their reckless actions made in their youth. Others from when they were adults. It’s a straight line between decades, years, and days.”
“In other words, you just got caught,” retorts Madi.
“That’s enough of this negative talk,” interjects StrangeJob, desperately trying to stick to his vetted talking points, “It’s time we moved on to the important issues. I want to talk about our next assignment: closing the causeway.”
“Right on!” shouts Psycho Sam, “Are we going to blow up the causeway?”
“No, Sam,” says StrangeJob. “We’re just going to close it down.”
“You’re changing the subject. We still need to decide if you are the best person to represent us,” insists Maddi.
“No, it’s time to get back on message,” says StrangeJob. “People change, well, except maybe career politicians who change only when they need our vote.”
“There you go picking on career politicians again, I knew you would never change,” says Madi. “That’s why we need to reconsider who represents us.”
“Why shouldn’t we continue to support him?” asks Andre. “I mean, we’ve always voted for him in the past.”
“Just because you always voted for a person doesn’t mean they are in the best position to support us during these trying times,” suggests Spinolee.
“True, but he is a nice guy,” says Andre.
“Just because he went to your friend’s funeral doesn’t mean he knows what he is doing,” says Miss Mackie.
“Besides, nice guys don’t always make good leaders,” says Madi.
“People don’t change because they see the light; they change because they feel the heat, and it looks like things are starting to warm up in here,” jokes Spinolee.
“Listen up folks,” says StrangeJob, showing signs of irritation. “Consider the alternatives before you think about not supporting me. Do you want Psycho Sam running around blowing things up? Think strategically. I am the better of two evils”.
“Has it come to this!” says Miss Mackie. “This is as bad as the friggin’ election.”
“So, let’s get this straight,” says Madi. “You think we should support you because we always supported you, or because you’re supposed to be a nice guy, or just because you’re a better choice than the alternative?”
“Enough of this nonsense,” interjects StrangeJob. “You should continue to support me because you support the ideals that I stand for.”
Andre, shuffling in his seat, asks, “Then we should look at the organization and belief structure that you represent and see if those ideals align with ours?”
“Correct!” states StrangeJob.
“But you’re affiliated with Incompetence Anonymous?” Madi states. “That means you represent incompetents.”
“Not only that, he seems to support IA corporate over our local chapter,” claims Miss MacKay.
“So much for partisan politics,” says StrangeJob. “Let’s get back to the causeway.”
“So, can we blow it up?” shouts Psycho Sam.
“No, but I think we should do a small test run before we go to the causeway,” replies StrangeJob. “Our next mission, should you decide to accept it, is to shut down the Pier overpass.”
“The Whitney Pier overpass?” asks Andre. “Hell, the Santa Claus parade may not even be going there this year.”
“It will be a good test run for us,” interjects StrangeJob. “I will ask that climate change group who have been closing bridges all over the place to help us with the plans.”
“But don’t they get arrested?” asks Psycho Sam. “Would being in jail affect my pogey?”
The meeting is interrupted by dings and tweets as group members turn to their cell phones.
“Dear God! That’s not you, is it?” interjects Madi, as she shows a picture of a young Dr StrangeJob wearing an offensive costume taken during a party from his undergrad years.
The remaining members stare disbelievingly at the photo trending on Tweeter with the hashtag #strangejobculturalmisappropriation”.
“I don’t believe this,” says Spinolee.
“That poor girl,” says Miss Mackie. “Imagine what she has been living with all of these years.”
….to be continued
Note: The referenced photograph may be considered offensive to some and is not be suitable for all audiences. Capitalists from all over the world may be offended. Scroll to the end of the credits to view the offensive photograph.
Competence is our final frontier. Join the farce and support the journey of the CBLA-InComps. Their mission: to expel incompetence, to seek out the competent, and to boldly go where Caper heroes have gone before. We are legion. We know who you are. We are going to the Legion.
Dr. StrangeJob went to high school in the mid-seventies. Coincidently, that was the same time that marijuana became the recreational drug of choice for many in his age group. To suggest that the Doctor was a pothead would be a tenuous overstatement, but he does concede there were a number of purple haze high-school daze not totally accounted for. Yes, he inhaled.
Arriving home from school one day, he was confronted by his mother in an extreme state of agitation, waving a baggie of pot that she found in the laundry basket. To be fair, she may have been quite calm at the time. To be honest, since the Doctor was slightly buzzed, what he saw was more like the Tasmanian devil on crack gesticulating a baggie full of weed and pointing accusatorily.
He told her that it was not his pot, but to no avail. They decided to wait until his father arrived home from work to continue the conversation, but she assured the Doctor that there would be hell to pay.
The Doctor’s father was a welder at the local steel plant. He put in a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay, so he was both tired and startled when met at the door by his wife still waving the baggie of marijuana. His father was always quick on his feet, but the side-glance he gave to his son was most telling. Two things became abundantly clear: First, it was the father’s weed that was found in the laundry. Second, the father was about to be in bigger shit with his wife than his son could ever possibly be with his mother. The look on his face said it all, but what happened next surprised father, mother, and son.
The young Doctor, in an Oscar worthy performance, admitted the pot was his and took full responsibility for his actions. The father, in another Oscar worthy performance, provided a sternly worded sermon on the ills of drug use whilst handing out punishment that appeased his wife, but not overly chastised the son.
The father took the son aside a few days later and provided him with a learning script that he follows to this day: If you are being thrown out of town, then get in front and make it look like a parade in your honor. The Doctor was grounded for two weeks. The father, on the other hand, had to flush his weed down the toilet.
Happy Father’s Day. I am not sure where you are, but here’s hoping that you are happy and high.
Watch my standup version of this routine from 2016.
Dr. StrangeJob, under the alias Dan Yakimchuk, published his first Amazon Kindle e-book, The Rose: Time Enough for Love. Amazon publishes 3000 new books each day, so it will be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Here is my sales pitch. Hopefully, it will be $2.99 well spent. As of this writing, the book is sitting at # 21 in the hot new release category for time travel books.
Forty years ago, he tried to kill himself. Today, he’s going back to change his mind.
The Rose tells the story of a man travelling back 40 years in time to deliver a message to his younger self during a pivotal moment in his life. What begins as a janitor’s attempt at salvation, becomes a time travel researcher’s hope for lost love and family. At its heart, the story is about family – a fortune teller, a metalhead, a time continuum officer, and a reluctant time traveller – a family lost in time.
The initial short story was written in recognition of my 25th anniversary in recovery. Last year I produced and acted in a short 12-minute film version of the original short script, The Rose, directed by Kenn Crawford of Broken Road Pictures. The Rose was an official selection and award of commendation winner at the 2018 Canada Shorts film festival. Watch The Rosehere.
Yes, I do have a rose tattoo on my left hand that was designed by the very talented Cyanide Ink.
Follow The Rose Facebook Page for future updates on the saga of Harry, the reluctant time traveller.
Dr. StrangeJob or: How I Learned to Stop Raging and Embrace the Bull 