avatarKyle Wells

Summary

The article is a humorous tribute to "Schott," a retiring Business Manager known for his deadpan humor and iconic sweater vests, as he transitions into retirement.

Abstract

The author recounts the experience of giving a farewell speech for Schott, a Business Manager whose retirement marks the end of an era characterized by his unique sense of humor and distinctive style. Schott's monotone voice and stoic demeanor, likened to Star Trek's Mr. Spock, made him an unforgettable figure in the office. Despite initial impressions of him as a humorless robot, Schott's self-deprecating jokes and one-liners endeared him to his colleagues. The speech pokes fun at Schott's signature sweater vests and his robotic mannerisms, while also acknowledging the warmth and camaraderie he brought to the workplace. As Schott exits the scene, he is replaced by the "Tyler" model, but the author expresses a fondness for the quirks and charm of the outgoing Business Manager.

Opinions

  • The author finds Schott's deadpan dry sense of humor amusing and considers it a "thing of beauty."
  • Schott's fashion choice of sweater vests is a running joke throughout the article, with the author playfully questioning if he wears them to sleep.
  • The author initially perceived Schott as an unfeeling robot, especially during a meeting where budget cuts were announced, but later grew to appreciate his subtle humor and big heart.
  • Schott's transformation over the years, including the addition of a first name and a humor modulation chip, is seen as a positive change that made him a "hoot" at office parties.
  • The author expresses a mix of excitement for the new "Tyler" model and a sense of loss for Schott, indicating a deep respect and affection for the retiring manager.
  • The author is proud of their speech, feeling it successfully balanced humor with a genuine tribute to Schott's contributions to the office culture.

Retirement Send-Off

Farewell to a Sentimental Robot.

Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash

About a year ago I was asked to give a short and “humorous” speech celebrating the retirement of our Business Manager. We’ll call him “Schott” — because that's his name.

To truly appreciate my speech, it is important to know a bit about Schott. There is no other position description at a public agency that will put you to sleep faster than that of the Business Manager. Even the most animated and fun personality will cause crippling drowsiness when they share what they do

Schott was neither animated or what some might consider fun. Personally, I found him hysterical. His deadpan dry sense of humor was a thing of beauty. He was fond of wearing sweater vests, and frequently made self-depreciating jokes about it.

His facial expression was that of Star Trek’s Mr. Spock. Schott could rip off some great one-liners during his speeches at other’s end of employment parties. So when I was asked to honor him in the same fashion, it was, well, an honor.

My Speech

Goodbye sweater vest, hello depends!

Questions for you Schott:

Is it true that you sleep in nothing but a sweater vest?

When you leave will you still create spreadsheets and pretend anyone cares?

When you try and straighten out the wrinkles in your socks, do you realize you aren’t wearing any? — Old joke.

I’ll never forget my introduction to Schott.

It was 2009, I was a mere 3 years into my employment as a case manager (SSA). It was during the great recession and SSAs were housed at the Monroe Plaza. We knew we were having a “special” meeting with some announcements from the new Business Manager. They called him “Schott.”

In the meeting room he walked, deadpan expression with wisps of darkness emanating from his being. He placed himself at the head of the conference table, pulled out his spreadsheets and began to speak. His voice was shockingly monotone and occasionally he would gaze up with those dead eyes.

To my memory the only thing I remember him saying is,

Schott (Robot voice): “You people are unimportant and shall no longer receive annual step increases. Any questions?”

My neck began to feel like fire. My impulse was to wrap his face in that awful sweater vest he was adorned with, but alas I quickly found equilibrium and raised my hand. His eyes looked in my direction but seemed to look through me.

Schott (Robot Voice): “What is your question insignificant being?”

I managed to eek out the words “when the economy stabilizes, will the increases be restored?” To which he replied,

Schott (Robot laugh): “HA-HA-HA-HA, I detect that is an attempt at humor” as his head began to spin 360 degrees as nuts and bolts went flying from his neck. I could see a neon light shining through his sweater vest that appeared to say “system overload.” He was promptly shut off by an IT person and taken away.

As the years went by, I noticed subtle changes in Schott. They gave him a first name in an attempt to personalize him as well as a more sophisticated humor modulation chip, which enabled him to be a hoot at office parties.

But now the day has come that the Schott model is being retired and replaced with the more modern “Tyler” model. Tyler seems pretty great and I look forward to working with him, but damn it, I’m going to miss the Schott, cuz it turns out underneath that sweater vest is a huge heart that will leave a void.

Don’t forget us, Buddy.

My gentle roasting of Schott was concluded with laughs and applause. I felt like a roast master general. — Move over Jeff Ross, or for you more ripe types, Don Rickles.

The most confirming part of it all was Schott’s reaction. In robot voice, “Damn, that was good.”

That’s all I really gave a “Schott” about.

Humor
Work
Nonfiction
This Happened To Me
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