While this is usually a total douchebag line, it has its place, albeit in very select circumstances.

As a case in point, I once served as an aide for a very prominent and powerful member of Congress, who was among the more egalitarian men I have ever met. His staff were under clear instructions not to casually use his name for favors.

On one occasion, however, he asked me to make him reservations for a quiet dinner with an fellow member of congress at a prominent DC restaurant that catered heavily to politicians. The dinner was supposed to be the two of them, and two aides, me and my opposite number.

Reservations were made, assurances were made of a table in the dimmer corners of the place and we showed up to be told by some snotty prick that there were no tables for at least an hour, and only then in the brightly lit front of the restaurant. After trying to explain to the twerpoid that reservations had been made, only to be told that "we deal with important people here," I leaned across the maitre d' lecturn, tapped him gently on the chest and pointed to my boss standing about ten feet away. I said, quietly, "I work for that man over there. If you don't recognize him in this town, you'll be out of work in five minutes. And if we don't have the table I want in five minutes, you will have the entire weight of his office bearing down on your miserable life."

We were seated in about two minutes.

And yeah, I was a douchebag. But it was my job to be one then.

Let me take a guess. Your boss is Mr. Clean. In essence, what I'm saying is, does it matter?