Fist Pounds + “New Direction” = Update Your Resume

So, a coworker offered me a fist pound the other day. Just walking past each other in the hall. Here I am, minding my business and filing another TPS report, and this guy rolls past with a nod and an extended fist. With a sigh, I knuckled up and reciprocated the pound, muttering “Damn Ohioans.”

You can forgive my detestation of this annoying social nuance. Based on past experience as a rower on a sinking ship, fist pounds, fake golf swings and disco balls bring up bad connotations. Hell, the last time I saw someone riding a scooter, I was suddenly struck by the taste of stale chicken fingers in my mouth. It was crazy.

Back to fist pounds. I can’t prove it yet, but I believe that when your employees start going around randomly hitting each other’s fists, your company is 74.6% more likely to go out of business within nine months. I have to crunch the numbers a little more, but I swear to christ it’s a fact.

Do we really need Bud Light to tell us that fist pounds have jumped the shark? I mean, I wanted to return the extended knuckles with a resounding bitch slap myself. In fact, there’s a subculture analyzing the fist pound phenomenon, including Uncyclopedia. Check out the section under “Acceptable Pounds Situations” in particular. EDITOR’S NOTE: There aren’t any. Especially at freaking work. “Damn, you really collated the shit out of that report. Knuckle up, dog!” Really? I mean … really?

These clowns, calling themselves the “Pound Club,” have dedicated an entire site to the fist pound. They even take a look at some variations of the fist pounds. Personal favorite? The “Ezra Pound”:

“Execute an exploding pound while reciting Pound’s poem ‘Salutation.’” You can’t make this shit up.

As if that weren’t enough, they came up with an accompanying video, placed below for your viewing pleasure. And friends, let me tell you that there are few things funnier than having Asians and barristos gyrating wildly and making homoerotic motions toward each other in the basement of a Kinko’s. Good times.

So I’ll be spending my workdays trying to avoid having to hit my hand against someone else’s hand for any reason, and feeling uneasy about the company's future prospects. And if I see someone lining up a pretend 70-yard shot with a pretend wedge to a pretend green near the goddam breakroom, I’ll be cranking out resumes toot-sweet … because layoffs are sure to be coming around the corner.