It seems one of our shared foibles is a chronic inability to allow others to be wrong in confidence. Paragraphs after paragraphs reminding others that servitude is inevitable, whether or not they realize it, but he wants really, really bad for them to realize it. It speaks to some sort of inferiority-superiority complex. I hesitate to label it as a Napoleon Complex solely due to his diminutive stature; any rage he may or may not feel tends to be tamped down anyway. Tends to. We've all seen the .gif haven't we? A scheming vizier without a king to stand behind (he is already here, obviously, but as he is, he is not) finds himself in a strange circumstance. He becomes the face of the organization when the vizier is meant to stand at the sidelines, twirling his well-groomed mustache and watching his plans come together. He is visible while his results are too subtle to be appreciated. That said, his "results" may be overblown at any rate. It sounds impressive to claim one conjured a hurricane, but I find it difficult to bequeath ownership of that to the one who scared the butterfly into flapping its wings. The one who ordered the one who scared the butterfly into flapping its wings. If you take causal links far back enough, you come across the Original Cause. G-d. Whether natural or supernatural, the title seems fitting. So does it follow that the one moonlighting as the Original Cause is G-d? Or even a god? Of course not. The flaw here is assuming causality is linear. As he full well knows, it is a loosey-goosey tangle of threads and stitches and frayed knots. The sisters three never quite got the hang of knitting. However, there are many who fall into this assumption, and are thus very, very impressed by the parlor trick of pointing to one's own conception and calling it the start of the line. So why bother? Why ensure that those under his employ all hear, over and over, what is supposedly an immutable truth? Perhaps the poor thing wants attention. He's putting in all this work for an end he won't live to witness, and which will soon forget him. If he pretends hard enough that he is the king as well as vizier then perhaps others will believe him, will fear him, laud him, praise him. Or perhaps the truth is not so immutable as he implies. Perhaps his hammers and saws are the sort that lose efficacy if they aren't reminded they are saws and hammers. I've never had a toolset that required verbal maintenance, but stranger things have happened. If pressed, he might say the performance is for the sake of all viewing third parties. Something to teach them a lesson or to spur them into some action that secretly was a part of his plans all along. I would respond by pointing out how convenient it is that this comes with the benefits of my former two hypotheses but for a wider audience. All in all, it is a piece of theatre that I find engaging, if veering a bit too far into Sandleresque "cringe comedy" for my personal liking. At the very least it keeps me returning to the same garage for every oil change. The way Mr. Henry Podunk treats his employees is horrid, but the show his skinny bald ass puts on is well worth the price. Podunk's Car and Oil Services: 4/5 stars Wait, this isn't Yelp.
