Memos from Bear Cave: Daddy's Home

This article is part of the Memos from Bear Cave series.

To: All Employees of Bear Cave
Date: July 13, 1981
Subject: Finally, Some Recognition

We have a guy working here named Tab Fillmore. Tab Fillmore is in charge of media. It's his damn job to get us positive coverage. It's his damn job to get the word out about us. Tab Fillmore is failing at his job.

It's my job to run this company exceptionally, and I do that well. It's not my job to do Tab Fillmore's damn job, but I did it anyway. If you read the paper today, you'll see an interesting article about me and the work I do here at Bear Cave Soup Company. Tab Fillmore better make more articles like this happen, or he's fired.

I don't know what Tab Fillmore's wife sees in him, but it's clearly not enough given how much she needs from me.

To: All Employees of Bear Cave
Date: July 13, 1981
Subject: Read Carefully, Idiots

Some of you geniuses are saying the newspaper article isn't about us. First off, learn to read between the lines. Just because the focus of the article is my arrest doesn't mean it isn't about us. As the article made clear, I was driving drunk from Bear Cave Soup to a popular gentleman's establishment I frequent. So, right off the bat, you have a mention of both me and this company. No press is bad press, and that old lady that died in the crash was on her way out anyway. She had another ten years, tops.

Anyway, seeing as how I keep the cops well stocked on cheap soup in this town, we're in the clear. None of you will have to take the fall for this one, so stop worrying.

To: All Employees of Bear Cave
Date: July 14, 1981
Subject: Welcome this Jackass

We've got another shining star joining our ranks, and hopefully this one knows what he's doing. His name is Charlie Grossman and he's here to throw some muscle around in our books. It's his job to make those numbers look big, so make sure you stay out of his damn way.

Some of you may have noticed that Charlie Grossman is a full two inches taller than Tall Charlie. Tall Charlie, you have 48 hours to get your act together or you'll be losing your identity. Grossman, you've got 48 hours to not to let Tall Charlie cut you down to size. May the best man win.

To: All Employees of Bear Cave
Date: July 14, 1981
Subject: Good News

That newspaper article is paying off big time. I just got off the horn with a man I've never met: my father. He recognized my photo in the paper and wants to come here and meet me.

I want every last one of you working twice as hard cleaning this place up. My dad is coming tomorrow, and I want Bear Cave Soup to look like a million bucks.

Tab Fillmore has also informed me he is not entirely useless. Although he is a tiny, weak man barely able to make it through the day without sobbing into his safety blanket, he managed to get us some press. A man from the newspaper is going to come by and write about my reunion.

THIS HAS TO GO PERFECT. If my old man sees even a whiff of incompetence, every one of you is going home with two black eyes. And for god's sake, keep my idiot rockabilly sons as far away as possible. Put out more rockabilly traps if you have to.

To: All Employees of Bear Cave
Date: July 14, 1981
Subject: Not Acceptable

Apparently Charlie Grossman is a quitter, because he's telling people around here to call him "Chuck" and also offered to go by "Eric," his middle name. Let me tell you something, Grossman: Your stupid name is Charlie. I'm not calling you anything else, especially not "Eric." That's the name of a manly woman or some kind of teenage gutter trash. We fight to win around here, so you better win the right to keep your name.

To: All Employees of Bear Cave
Date: July 15, 1981
Subject: Today Never Happened

I don't want to hear any more mentions of my old man, Duke Boruff. If I had known he was a no-good rockabilly, he would never have set foot on my property. He's not welcome here ever again, and if anybody mentions him, they're as good as fired.

Speaking of fired, Tab Fillmore is done here. He's picking all his stuff out of the ditch I threw it in. You have my permission to go spit on him.

I don't want any of you reading tomorrow's newspaper. That means no reading that article about that awful old rockabilly, and no looking at the picture of that awful old rockabilly hugging me. I will not stomach our company name being dragged through the mud with this kind of press. Bad press does us no favors, and endangers all our jobs. Tab Fillmore should have anticipated this and not involved the newspapers. That was a fatal mistake on his part.

For practical business purposes, none of you will be paid for today as it is being formally expunged from all company records. You are still required to work late tonight to make up for the time you wasted greeting that rotten pompadoured son of a bitch.

To: All Employees of Bear Cave
Date: July 15, 1981
Subject: I AM NOT CRYING

I am punching my punching bag so hard my fists are bleeding and my body is overwhelmed with pain. It is not crying. Crying is for babies. What I am doing is extremely masculine and healthy, and your useless ears are mis-hearing my screams of rage.