3rd Shift #4: Halloween Song

[Sing it to a Brit melody somewhere in the 1800s, vaguely martial, but jaunty...]

You see us leaving in the morning,
Leave as you arrive
We never greet as colleagues, friends,
You pass us and drive by.

We work 3rd shift, it's not our choice,
Who in his right mind would?
The daylight hours are when we sleep -
Or try if we damn could.

I had a life once in the sun,
When life was there to see.
Now in the dark I grind my teeth,
Trying not to weep.

But werewolf blood now fills my dreams,
The full moon rises foul:
When 3rd shift drives life to a halt,
Torn by the machine's howl.

A zombie's curse, this midnight hell,
This vampire's time of day.
But you are safe tucked in your bed,
Our bad lives dreamt away.

Good morning to the midnight shift!
The moon is rising high!
There is no one to watch us work,
Care if we live or die!

Rose's Toes

So Rose's toes are yellow today. Yesterday they were red. Tomorrow - who knows? We spend each day wondering about the color of Rose's toes.

Budget Time

Just some brief Notes From The Cube . . .

November is rolling around, time for harvests in the heartland, Halloween candy for the next two weeks (candy corn never eaten), a couple of off-year elections that no one will show up to vote for, Turkey Day - and annual Budget time.

Come November we'll be looking at next year and trying to find ways to financially justify our wish lists. This will involve catching up on all that record-keeping that wasn't done for the past 10 months, figuring out what will be carryover to next year that can avoid too much scrutiny, and what we need to do to reach company goals.

[This is a "royal" We - since we will be doing the grunt work spreadsheeting to find $$$ justifications, and help management catch-up on its neglected admin paperwork, and put it all together into a coherent mass - we will not be doing the wishing, however.]

'Slight flaw in the system: we work in coordination with several other departments - but each department makes up its wish lists independently.

And the Budget is based on the wish lists.

We shall see where this will lead.

Dan 4: Dan & The New Bosses: Expectation

There's a new regime coming to town: Dan, the Hyper-Active Boss Man, is excited!

This is the perfect opportunity for Dan. He is ready. The old crowd, the Legacies, stood in the way of everything Dan was told to accomplish when they brought him in two years ago, have stonewalled almost every idea Dan has proposed.

And Dan has lots of ideas.

But back to the new regime: A family owned jobbie, the Company, there is no line of succession - kiddies went to other fields - and the two old brothers running the place are on their third wives each: whatever new spawns arise from their loins will be too young to head the helm for 25 years at least. In a way, this is for the best. Back when a couple of the owner-brothers' grown-up kids were being groomed for heir-apparent, there was a lot of passive-aggressive competition among all, seeing who would emerge top dog. Now that the kids are all founding their own fledgling careers elsewhere, only the Old Dogs are still here - and they reached their impasse of understanding long ago.

But now they need a succession and have hired in a Development Consultant and a small Board of Directors to work out the new steps for succession. After all: all complaints aside about minor problems, turf wars and egos, this is a successful Co. with several dozen millions of gross profit annually. Not such a hotcha profit margin, but certainly nothing to close the doors on when the Old Dogs retire.

So, now, Dan is excited: The Board and Dev Consultant are bypassing the baker's dozen of Legacy Veeps and looking for a new President - and they are soliciting input on the company from all of the Directors. Ideas are Director Dan the Hyper-Active Man's meat-and-potatoes.

He may be going a bit overboard, though. The Dev Consultant has given each Director a questionnaire asking 25 or so rather pointed questions on strengths of the company, problem areas, areas of opportunity, of weakness, of suggested solutions. Dan, of course, has answers and ideas for all of them. He's already up to 174 problems - and solutions.

174 problems - all of them real, definitely - all of them relating to other departments, legacy management & structures, turf war opponents.

Solutions - all of them solid - all of them revolving around Dan's department and/or way of doing things.

Focus, diplomacy and common sense are not, apparently, Dan's stronger points.

Dan has GREAT expectations for how the new regime will receive his input. He's creating a 5-year Business Plan right now that will cut through the stagnation that has dogged the company's growth for the past decade - it's a strong company, but not getting stronger, only "maintaining" - and Dan's biz plan addresses that problem. He will be presenting it to the Board, unrequested, shortly.

There's a new regime coming to town: Dan, the Hyper-Active Boss Man, is excited!

3rd Shift #3: Patronized

Big Phil continues to write his own Notes From The Cube . . .

'Least enjoyable thing about 3rd shift is the patronizing attitude we get from non-3rd shift management.

Gotta emphasize: 3rd shift management is cool - they're like us, stuck out here in the dark, pretty much savoring our own, inspired-by-neglect independence. We're all Can-Do on 3rd shift because:
a. the daytime bosses and maintenance and other support groups truly hate having to get up to help us, and
b. we learn quickly to make do with what we have and get by as best we can. (Hey!, that's our everyday lives anyway. Not a big stretch.)

But, every now and then, the Day Boys decide we need Attention in order to Feel Like We're Part Of The Company. Ho-hum, what "Employee Relations" book did they get that from?

Someone usually shows up early - say 6 a.m. - to gather us all together and give us a pep talk, or tell us what's happening during the regular hours, or invite us to a company function that people sleeping during the daytime can't make without difficulty. We had a company Christmas party last year, for example, set on a Friday night - soooo, to accommodate us, we had to work on our Sunday off day so that we could have the Friday night free. Were the ribs and turkey and hotel mashed potatoes worth it? They tasted good. They were free. Sort of like showing up at HomeTown Buffet, though: didn't know the other people there, sat at tables with our own 3rd shift friends (just like the 2nd shifters sat with... blah blah), had a good time as long as Day Boy management didn't stop at our tables with their false bonhommie and pretend to talk to us for 5 minutes of awkward good cheer.

Aye, laddies, that's the rub: it's an awkward "friendliness" - very patronizing. Would be better if they dropped by, said "Wow, you guys have the rough shift, but we appreciate it, need it, and here's a bonus envelope that the daytimers don't deserve." Short, sweet, honest, appreciative.

Certainly better than those really awkward times when a "team" of Day Boys (and, to be politically correct, "Boys" means men and women) shows up in our midst at 2 a.m. to spread their "message" - whatever the "message" is that day. I've got no quarrels with "message" - I was happy to learn the reasoning behind why half the cubicles had been moved from the left side of the room to the right side - but they made such a Big Deal about being up so early for us. C'mon, it's not like we don't do this every day! Suck it up and just be here.

Or move me to day shift, too, so that I can show up at 2 a.m. sometimes and pass down wisdom to my old colleagues. Tell you what, though: I won't be patronizing. I'll say, "Glad I'm not here every night, kids, but since I am tonight, here's what's what."

Like I said a few times: we 3rd shifters have our own rough independence and don't need the coddling like daytimers.

The Level of Theft Makes It ALL Right

'Story in the newspaper about a couple of GIs formerly in Iraq about to do some hard time for keeping $25K or so each of found Saddam loot. It is importantly to remember that We do not loot: that money was intended for rebuilding the country - and, of course, the "reform" Iraqi officials who needed their cut before it got to the country. Stupid sergeants, corporals and privates: what did they think they were doing. More important: What were they thinking, period?!? It's all about rank, the last vestige of the systems of royalty, caste and class level.

'Much like in the workplace. Alejandro has been fired recently for theft: thieving cholo had a box of surgical gloves in his trunk, taken from the restroom. OK, so he was going to use them to work on his car over the weekend and didn't want the dirty oil ground into his skin for when he returned to work on Monday and had to handle some pristine medical products. OK, OK, so maybe he intended to bring back what was left (if he remembered). OK, OK, OK - BUT: he can't take $10.00 worth of supplies from the company. That's petty theft, employee theft, pilfering, and so forth and it costs industry billions a year. Zero Tolerance. He's just lucky no charges were proffered.

And it's on a completely different level from field reps Larry, Moe and Curly's $500 use of the company credit card for meals at the Mystery Dinner Theater in Orlando, a necessary expense while they explained our company's products to Minnie, Mina and Mona, our buxom trade show babes, albeit four days into the trade show and roughly 12 to 6 hours (it was a loooong night session for some) before the show was closing down at 9 a.m. next morn. Those are overhead costs.

Speaking of which, overhead, no one should even consider questioning the top five head honchos on the $1.5 million in quarterly bonus fees paid out to themselves for... for... for simply working here. These are high upkeep executives who could go anywhere - but we have attracted them - and it should not be a part of the equation that the company lost money last year.

Besides, there are role models to emulate. The U.S. Senator from Alaska this week who proudly, defiantly, screamed "No!" to suggestions that a recent Transportation Bill be amended to re-direct a $ billion or so from an Alaskan bridge that would service fifty people and "misuse the money, MISUSE, that's what it is!" by spending it on hurricane-devastated New Orleans.

Stupid, stupid soldiers and line employees: there are levels of theft and, if you are on the lower levels, you are a thief. Please take these Notes from The Cube to heart: you are a thief.

In The Midnight Hour

The Cube has some thoughts on Big Phil's Notes From The Cube of the past couple of days . . .

In the midnight hour, to paraphrase Billy Idol:

You are bored - Bored - BORED!

3rd Shift, Overnight Shift, Midnight Shift, Give It Your Own Name. For cube dwellers this is a time for wishing you were elsewhere and wondering what you did wrong in an earlier lifetime. Nothing challenging of a job-related nature will happen at midnight, this is data-entry time: kid ourselves not - no Company wants creativity inside the cubicles when they can keep a close eye on you.

(Moment to ponder whether that "outside Graphics Consultant" job is worth it. Probably not. When they can give it a specific name like that, they usually mean "outside, per-job worker without benefits." Not quite in the same category as the Unspecified Consultant "retained" to advise Directors, Veeps and Prezes for
high high high fees.)

Having been exiled once to the overnight shift for a three month "special project" so that "input can be constant without system downtime during the day" (lots were drawn, some of us lost, much like a bad sci-fi movie about feral villagers appeasing their corn gods), it is the reflection from this Cube that the act of keeping one's eyes open while performing mind-numbing tasks is infinitely more difficult in the midnight hour than at noon.

This is not a major observation, but one that Must Be Said.

(Note to Cube: Pronouncements seem more profound at the midnight hour than in the light of day. Get some sleep.)

3rd Shift #2

Big Phil's Notes From The Cube continue . . .

Working the 3rd shift has it's own rhythm and world.

Basically, you are on your own most of the time. Even it there are five, a dozen or a hundred others working around you, 3rd shift is "abandoned" by the bosses -

- except for that last hour when the daytime, main shift is prepping up and the honchos come in full of fire and energy to tell your shift what it will do the next night. That's always an awkward moment, because 3rd shifters are tired, they know no one cared what was happening to them at 2 a.m. (as long as there were no emergencies requiring a daytime boss to wake up), and they are having their independence impinged upon.

Independence - that's probably the key word to 3rd shifters. 3rd shift may be few people's first choice for working hours, but if one can take it the bonus is that the midnight is yours. Not quite vampires we are during those hours, but knowing how Dracula and his "children of the night" feel.

As a Cube dweller working overnight, you know that your productivity is probably twice as much as the socializing 1st shifters. But your desk is always borrowed and your supplies are always someone else's leftovers and the daytime bosses are rarely going to leave any decision-making in your hands. The temptation is to goof off - who will see? - but the quiet and isolation make you more focused so that, even without trying, you work well.

Except for that last hour, when the daytimers come in, hanging around, getting in your way, talking about what "needs to be done" as if you weren't doing it already.

3rd Shift #1

Big Phil fiddles some Notes From The Cube . . .

There are four reasons for working 3rd shift:
* Can't find anything better
* 2nd job
* Family to take care of during the day
* The belief that the daylight hours are now "free".

Generally, the line workers are on 3rd shift for reasons 1 and 3. Foolish writers, artists, actors and idealists are there for reason 4. The rest of us, crossing all lines of profession, are stuck there for reason 2.

3rd shift is where there's no daylight - ever - in the winter, while summer leaves the body aching for adventure just as the shift ends and it's time to head home for sleep. Summertime on the 3rd shift is like being perpetually 18, when it was possible to go to school all day, go to sports practice in the afternoon, work the 4-hour swing shift on Friday night - then party with friends till 2 a.m. and still get up in time to make the 7 a.m. start time for the weekend job. And do it again Saturday night/Sunday morning.

And when the body is no longer 18 - God, even when it's only 29! - 3rd shift is the pits in summertime, because no one is going to go home and sleep at 6 a.m. No never, whatever.

'Learned to drink cognac and espresso while watching the sun rise, from a New York bartender while working the night auditor shift. Bars don't close till 4 a.m. in New York (or didn't back in the day). Sit on the front step of the hotel while the rest of the world sleeps it's last few hours and see the sun and wish you could just walk away from it all. Not angry, not resentful, not depressed: sort of at peace with the world and, while the caffeine and alcohol work their tonic through your bones, ready to enjoy the world. 3rd shift has its attractions.

An elegant portrait of the insect as a young drone

An elegant portrait of the insect as a young drone
An ant, of course
Carrying on a hedonistic existence of self‑centered
Laziness and indulgence while the workers
The proletariat
Ants
Carry the burden of transporting food and building materials
Necessary to shore the structure of the community.
Self‑centered and restless:
What to do?
Having limited mental capacities
The drone finds himself at a loss to find proper activities
Suitable to his position.
To fly or not to fly ‑‑‑
Why?
Why not?
No reason, just doesn't seem an attractive proposition.
Better, perhaps, to wait.
To wait and eat and grow
Grow fat
Grow heavy
Grow attractive
Send out the special secretions that attract the Queen
She would be attracted of course
Then make love
And die.
What?! ‑‑‑
Let's try that again:
... make love
And die.
Hmmmm.....
Anybody here know how to clip some wings?
Here, let me help you carry that crumb ‑‑‑
"Ol Man Drip‑o, that ol Man Drip‑o . . . "
Nothing like sweat to cover up the old secretions . . .
"He don't say nothin', he just keep ‑‑‑"
Say, anybody notice how oppressed we are by the royalty?
Brothers! Workers! Unite!

excerpt from Lyrics & Lies

copyright 1988, 1994, 2000, 2004 R. C. Fleet

All Rights Reserved

Tap Dancing on Quicksand

The thing that's most impressive about Rick is his ability to tap dance on quicksand.

Rick's in an enviable position in most ways: some seniority, more than a little power - he's a VP, after all - and a fairly decent success record, since the company sales have been growing in the 15 years of his tenure.

But what distinguishes Rick above all the other Veeps is his ability to stay in his position without ever taking a position. And, by never taking a position, Rick never offends anyone.

You might think that, by never taking sides, Rick would antagonize those who want him to take their side. This, however, is where Rick has them over a barrel. Isn't it better to have Rick neutral than to risk having him on the other side?

But, when push comes to shove, sometimes Rick has to make a decision. Hence, Rick is also a Master of the Study.

A Study is important. A Study is necessary. A Study prevents us from making impulsive decisions without Input and Evaluation. A Study buys Time.

And, what Rick has obviously realized, Time solves the decision-making problem in one of two ways;
* Either the problem is forgotten and a decision never has to be made - or
* The problem becomes so pressing that everyone else comes to a decision. Then, safely, Rick can join the Consensus.

Consensus is an excellent technique for avoiding individual responsibility.

The wonder is that so few others have mastered Rick's ability to tap dance on quicksand. But that's why he's a longtime Vice President: Talent will out.

No Nostalgia

There is a consoling myth that the last era, or the time just before that, was the greatest time ever.

It happens in pop music - or haven't you been listening to the radio stations? Hear how the word "classic" has moved moves up a few decades - to the '70s & '80s now, soon to be creeping into the '90s?

'Happens in life. My parents fixated on the Turn-of-the-Century era before The Great War (no, no one was particularly missing Prohibition and the Great Depression); our children are hearing about The Greatest Generation that went through WWII; we're all stuck with some fantasy about the 1950s being the last Age of Innocence. And so on. I'm sure there were Renaissance nobles missing the glory days of the Dark Ages. Zog the Caveman probably longed for Cro-Magnon mythic greatness.

'Happens with jobs.

Anyone reading this far into these Notes From The Cube would notice that CHANGE is occurring and The Cube talks frequently about The Way It Was Before. And Before, it is implied, Was Better. Bullshit, of course.

'Key to this consoling myth is that the time was always just a little bit before anything we actually know about. No child has great illusions about his or her parents - except that they're making it hell for us right now while growing up and they'll leave us in even worse shape once it's our turn to be responsible for it. But, once upon a time, when grandma and grandpa were pioneers, things were different . . .

Well, it is a consoling myth. Not true, but consoling.

And besides: The Cube does not want a world before television, internet, really really cheap Chinese-made underwear and a protected 401(k) plan.

Dan, Hyper-Active Man: Turf Fighting Man, Part 2

[This goes back to yesterday...]

But Dan began to enjoy the Turf Wars.

Defense wasn't enough: after the first year with a real budget, it's success proving Dan's point that his department had Worth to the company. Dan began to grow ambitious.

His department should be bigger.

And the way to bigger was Acquisition.

As with any organization, especially one of a certain size bigger than a job shop and smaller than a conglomerate, there are "stray" departments. These departments grew up out of a need --- for Facilities; for Maintenance; for the odd-'n-end Administrative job; and the occasional mini-department that was created for the Co-Partner's son 15 years ago, before that son went off to join a competitor company in Topeka. Most of these stray departments were leaderless - "leaderless" in the grand scheme of things that sees the need for something more than a competent staff with a strong Lead who knows what needs to be done and does it. No Supervisors, Managers or Directors.

Well, Dan argued persuasively, the flip side to that arrangement is that "things fall through the cracks" a lot of times. Oh, and they did. No denying that. There was also no denying that - without a better-organized central management - things fell through the cracks all over the place. But, still, Dan had made his point on the micro-management level and in one weak moment of budget review convinced the bean-counters to assign three of the strays to his department's budget responsibility.

Dan's department doubled in size.

And doubled in power. The IT Veep won't give network access to an outside field rep? NOW see how the IT Dept operates in half the space it once had - after the Facilities group under Dan's command re-designs the cubicles.

But Acquisition is only one part of Turf Wars. The best Defense is good Offense. Dan's Offense took place in the realm of ideas: an idea for everything. For everybody. In every department.

The problem, since Dan was brought in to "straighten things out" and "shake things up," is that he is actually doing what the company told him to do --- originally. And, because Dan is also the Hyperactive Man, his energy is truly impressive. And and, because Dan the Hyperactive Boss Man is also smart and talented, his ideas are usually on the mark and first-rate.

And abrasive.

And intrusive.

And resented.

Dan is very much like Napoleon right now, winning battles right and left, reforming everything he touches, pushing the company forward. There are fewer and fewer allies every day, though. Every day.

Dan, Hyper-Active Man: Turf Fighting Man, Part 1

[This goes back a week or so, to Dan, the Hyper-Active Man...]

So Dan, the Hyperactive Boss Man, is fast moving, super intelligent and abrasive to those who can't keep up with him - or who roll over at the sound of any bark, whether or not there is a bite to go with it. He can have a heart o' gold (which he does), but there's a tarnished pewter shell around it that is what most people see.

Which is tough, because without anyone trying to pierce through the shell, I think Dan's gold heart is becoming more and more leaden. He's hearing only his own voice most of the time, seeing only passivity from below. He becomes monomaniacal.

And that is nowhere more apparent than in Dan's defense of his department's Turf.

Or, at least, that's what it started out to be: his department's Turf.

When Dan was brought in, the department was weakened: months without leadership had left it buffeted by the whims and annual budget allocations dictated by other departments' managements - bosses who, for whatever reason, found no benefit for their own areas in having another division of the company in good health. (This should be a Note someday: Why Veeps, Directors and Managers don't see their departments as part of a whole that needs to be healthy. Why?)

Dropped into this situation, Dan started his first year leading the department with an inherited crippled budget, no seniority, and zilch morale within the ranks. He spent those first nine months building up #s 2 & 3, then took the vastly improved productivity he inspired to argue successfully for #1 at the next annual review: a reasonable budget to work with. He was successful.

Which earned him enemies in the other departments.

The Turf Wars, always going on one way or another in low-key guerilla fashion, flared into open conflict.

At first, as Noted, Dan fought for his department, pushing for logic in resource allocations and fairness credit due. But the push-back was fierce: from passive resistance to outright obstruction.

What do you do when the IT Veep simply refuses to allow your field reps access to the company network, claiming "security" at the faintest wisp of rumoured breach? At one point, a Cube Colleague's request from an IT staffer for a link to a certain network drive had the IT Veep pull in the Cube Colleague and, behind a closed door that kept her trapped inside his office, berated the poor girl for 10 minutes for "breaching security by bypassing established lines of communications" (i.e., through him).

Into that belch of fire strode Dan the Hyperactive Boss Man - and his voice was loud and bold. He physically stood in the doorway, keeping it open (and barring cowardly exit by the IT Veep), and announced for the floor to hear: "You don't talk to my people that way. You don't decide whether they are acting out of order without checking with me first to see if they are following my directives. You should look into fixing up your stupid-ass lines of communications."

And you'd think that would have made Dan a hero for standing up to the dragon, but it didn't: most were just scared at hearing a loud voice - and looked at the voice as the source of the trouble.

But, because most bullies are cowards as well, the IT Veep backed down a bit - or at least let up on targeting people from Dan's department to pick on.

It sure would have been nice if Dan had let it stop there: win some, lose some, in the cause of defending the borders.

But Dan began to enjoy the Turf Wars.

What Not To Wear: Better Clothes Than Your Boss

Kyra writes to The Cube . . .

This may be only a Woman-to-Woman thing, but it's probably not a better idea to outdress your boss if she's not a he. ('Sorry: couldn't figure out how to say this intelligently.)

If your boss is a woman - and you are a woman - she will probably not appreciate it if you are appearing more radiant than her glory and power. It is a fairly safe bet that you will not be hired in the first place by this Femme-Boss if you are more naturally attractive than she.

Fortunately, there are many women in power who hold an exalted impression of themselves, so there is a little more leeway here for the "naturally attractive" than may seem on first impression. This is largely due, with gratitude, to the Marketing Gods of Dior, Prada, Chanel and even Jacquelyn Smith for K-Mart, who have convinced our fragile egos that Purchase Power = Glamour & Appearance.

Still, once you are in the door, don't close it on your own ass by outshining the reigning diva.

This is even being sympathetic, because your boss may not necessarily be a Power Diva, but she is a human being. And, since the world at large, and the business world in specific, puts us femmes on a meat rack daily for comparison, then your boss cannot help but feel when the attention slides: from her considered opinions over to... consideration of your wardrobe-enhanced assets.

Don't Wear The Interview Suit

What not to wear when you want a low profile or a calm employer: the suit you wore for your job interview.

This is the true conflict-of interests inherent in job interviews: we wear suits and nifty clothes to impress the potential new bosses - then we can never wear that particular ensemble again.

Why? Because they think you are going on a job interview somewhere else.

Try it if you feel like garnering sideways glances and nervous comments such as "Who you interviewing with during your lunch break, ha, ha!"

So, if you are on a tight budget and looking for a job, make sure you don't wear the only thing you have that's decent to the job interview - beg, borrow or steal something else - because that particular suit or dress is only going to be acceptable for sit-down dinners, office parties and interviews for jobs elsewhere from that moment on.

The Cube has observed. The Cube knows. The Cube has a tailored suit that sits in the closet gathering unused.

Where We Work: Village

In the middle of the afternoon
A quiet melody played on the guitar,
vaguely Mexican,
vaguely Muzak.
And the empty office is timeless,
forever the village,
dust rising from the horses' footsteps,
a small steady tapping by an artisan across the way,
a quiet conversation between two others -
nothing to hide -
nothing to gain,
to run away from - to -

A very warm sun upon the back.
Close your eyes.
Swallow.
Remove the lump in your throat. Do not cry.
You will be rudely pulled out of this in a moment.
Close your eyes.

excerpt from Lyrics & Lies

copyright 1988, 1994, 2004 R. C. Fleet

All Rights Reserved

Nap Time (Sigh)

Lunchtime is nap time here. There's an indoor and an outdoor eating area and, since autumn still hasn't hit the chill factor too harshly yet, most people nosh in the fresh air.

What you will see if you arrive at our doorstep around mid-lunchtime is at least one person at every other table resting his or her head on the table, sleeping. Sleeping with that uncomfortable, nervous tension of the exhausted: shoulders curved, head balanced on crossed arms, knees bending into one another on legs that really can't relax in an upright position. We're not horses, after all.

On the side of the building is a small green area: several trees umbrella over thick, sodded grass. A perfect picnic area - or "natural" bed.

So, coming here a few years ago, Rod went out and ate his lunch on the grass one afternoon. It looked so pleasant, several people remarked. No one joined him out there, though.

A week or so later, Rod brought a picnic blanket, laid it out on the grass, stretched out on it, and took a nap during lunchtime. It looked so comfortable, more people observed. No one joined him out there, however.

Now, three years later, whenever the weather is decent Rod eats his lunch on the grass and takes a nap on his picnic blanket. He has a pillow now, too. No one has ever joined him. No one has ever brought their own blanket or pillow and taken a nap under the cool shade trees. A few people raise their heads from their folded arms, eyes sleepy with exhaustion, and look across the way at Rod's dozing figure - then they go back to their own naps, dreaming of the cups of coffee that will see them through the afternoon.

In three years, no one else has taken a nap on the grass.

How Many Years?

JD writes a Note to The Cube . . .

I'm 53. Not too old, not too young in my mind (and, when I look at the body of Jack, sitting in the cubicle next to me, not too shabby, either: Jack apparently went straight from high school into middle age, since he's only 20-something, with the butt and gut to match my Dad's).

But this is about work - and retirement. Today I got a letter from Social Security telling me how much I will receive if I retire at 63, 65 or 70. In other words: impossible, crappy and OK if my 401(k) doesn't nosedive.

Retire at age 70: that's only 17 years away. Wow, I must be getting old!

But wait a minute: 17 years ago I was only 36 and still young!

And 17 years ago was only yesterday, it doesn't even count as "Classic" Anything on the radio and I'd already had a computer for years.

And I only joined this place I'm working at ... 11 years ago?

Damn, something's wrong, and I sure don't want to die working here.

Dan, Hyper-Active Man, has trouble with others

[Notes From The Cube: This goes back a couple of days, to "Dan, the Hyper-Active Man"]

Well, it doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out that our boss Dan, the Hyper-Active Man, is not everyone's best friend.

One might go so far as to suggest that Dan's friends are few and far between.

Which is a pity, really, because he's essentially a nice guy under the hyped-up energy level. He actually listens and will change his position if you offer a reasonable or better alternative, although you've got to shout a bit and hold your ground to keep from being steamrolled over. And he is definitely a pushover when it comes to discipline. There are at least 2 goofoffs in the department who should be gone - but Dan won't be the one to fire them: he's got such a soft heart that he keeps remembering that they have families who shouldn't suffer for their loved one's incompetence.

But, y'know, intellectual honest and integrity and a deeper-than-business sense of morality don't cut it with the masses. Most of the fellow Cubes hate Dan because they instinctively fear any one in authority, so they hear his bark and feel his bite - even when there isn't any. As for the goofoffs: oh, Dan barks at them a lot, but instead of upping their performance levels or at least feeling grateful that he's not canning them like tomatoes for the winter, they just feel resentful and mutter among the minions about how they are "picked on," drawing sympathy from the colleagues who do not suffer from their crappy work performance.

One of Dan's biggest problems is that the Company brought him in to "straighten up" the department - but gave him guidelines that he would not necessarily have drawn. Dan has straightened up the department: our accountability is high, our productivity growing - but the guidelines haven't changed, and now, a couple of years later, people are chaffing at the restrictions and perceived "lack of trust." It's not so perceived: because Dan's "mission" from above forced him to review everyone's work with a skeptical eye, he developed a cynicism (bordering on paranoia) about what people say versus what they do. Not a pretty situation. But one that would exist with or without Dan: everyone forgets that his predecessor had all the subtlety of a hammer and lasted only about a year with his "my way or else" attitude that dragged things to a standstill. For all his barking, cajoling, pushing, Dan is still trying to persuade, not beat down.

But it doesn't feel like that - because of Dan's second problem: he's waaay too smart for most of us.

We go into a group meeting, an idea is suggested, and Dan is already thinking two or three steps ahead of the herd, accepting or dismissing the implications of the original suggestions before most of us have been able to wrap our tiny brains around the original concept. He does this to himself, too, sometimes in in harsh tones that include the phrase "Dan, you idiot, no!" - but people are pretty much self-absorbed, and instead of getting into his groove and understanding the process, they withdraw and whimper, licking their misread ego-hurt wounds.

The Cube has a simple rule: Work at Dan's performance level, play straight with him, do the job right. Consequently, The Cube doesn't have any problems with Dan. Arguments, yes - that goes with the territory when working with Dan: he sometimes even brings people into his office to argue out an idea he has beating inside his eardrums. But those are creative arguments. And with the creativity goes a sense of humor that make staying late a lot of fun sometimes.

But The Cube does not see a happy outcome here in Never-Never Land. Too too many colleague Cubes would rather drone on than be creative. Maybe they're even right: most of any business is routine, someone has to walk around and around the millwheel.

Dunno. We'll see . . .

Write It Down: How To Get Away With Anything

Pierre Dolet writes to Notes From The Cube . . .
[And The Cube notes: 'Old saw to grind, but a new perspective.]

It was discovered today that the simplest way to get away with anything is to write down whatever you want, want to do, or say you did - then circulate it. No one will read it, most will act as if they "did," and those who are arrogant or foolish enough to pretend "I never got it" can be cowed into submission by showing the top page with their name on the CC list.

This must be so: We sat in a monthly cross-departmental policy meeting this morning and four times the comment came up from several voices: "I wasn't informed of this."

Frankly, this was a patented lie. But, these being top execs making the comment, no one could say that out loud.

So, the first time, the issue was deferred yet another month while the protesting exec was given time to review the report that he "had not received yet." This happened two more times in the next half hour. The herd instinct, probably.

Then we hit upon an interesting moment. All present had attended a certain strategic meeting in which tentative decisions were made, but our department had gone ahead and finalized the decision - and taken action. Now that item came up on the agenda. I could see the second-guessers marshalling their objections, so I added while introducing it: "...and we circulated the final version for your approvals, in the memo of X/29, with the notice that any input would have to be received by Wednesday, since you had all agreed that it would go out by Friday."

Now, this statement was not an outright lie - but it was a calculated risk. It assumed that:
1) No one remembered what they said at the certain meeting referred to.
2) No one read the Minutes from that certain meeting - and had probably deleted it from their emails or filed it in a slush pile of at least a gigabyte size.
3) No one read the memo that we circulated soliciting input - that included the final version that went out on Friday.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL:

As the first "ahem" coughed its way into an introductory "I never received...," I also said "- and it was hand delivered to the distribution list: the final version covers the several inputs received."

Now this put them on the defensive: apparently Everyone Got This and Everyone But Me read the materials and responded - or so I lied.

Yes, everyone got it - put onto their IN boxes on top of a slush pile that I knew no one read - and the "several inputs" were all from the same person.
But it worked. None of the execs regularly keeps track of memos, reports and written communications in general that do not affect their immediate (immediate) interests; they literally don't know what is on their desks. Now, this rarely stops them before from commenting on matters they haven't the slightest idea about - but this instance was a fait accompli, a done deal, and (supposedly) they had already given the "Go" at an earlier meeting.

Or so I told them. . .

I don't plan on using this strategy often. Twice more in this morning's meeting decisions were deferred because "I never got anything on this" was the lied excuse - and I'm not in a position high enough on the food chain to call them on it. Still, my epiphany was as bright as the morning sunshine this A.M.: whenever I have a dicey item to be moved past, I will put it in written form and can fairly well guarantee that it will not be read. Much, much better than an oral report that requires of the executive only seat-of-the-pants consideration and decision-making.

Dan, Hyper-Active Man

Dan is a boss. A Director in a world that goes downhill like this: Owners (2, same family), Vice Presidents (6), Directors (5), Managers (a lot), Supervisors (a lot more), Leads (a few dozen), and the rest of us. This world is small enough (500 or so employees) that you can see up and down most every day - except that most people are afraid to look up too far. 'Don't know why, that's just the way it is.

Dan is hyperactive. Yep, when he was born and going to school, if A.D.D. had been a diagnosis available, Dan would have been an A.D.D.-Plus. Which probably drove his teachers and parents crazy -

- just like it drives crazy anyone who works for Dan.

- just like it makes him a valuable man.

Dan is not untalented, by the way. One of the smartest men in the company - in terms of brain smarts. DUMBEST man in the world when it comes to people skills, though. Dan is thinking so fast, and reacting so swiftly to changes that he can see before anyone else that he comes across as the most abrupt jackass in the world. And his face shows it, that he knows he's ahead of the pack, even if he doesn't outright boast about it.

He is - for the right management - the perfect employee. Dan will work faster than anyone else for longer than anyone else and better than anyone else.

But, WHEW!, he's tough to keep up with!

Dan has about 25 patents or shared patents under his belt - in about five different subjects - and he's not even an engineer or chemist or scientist for years now. At one point, he jump-started three different small business on his own, handling all the marketing, planning and logistics. But these were all service-oriented, and Dan likes to make Products and take them global. He's here because this Company is about his size: small enough to be personal, big enough to go places.

And, from the Company's side, Dan is perfect for their needs: they need someone to whip in shape a lackadaisical Development department, work closely with Marketing, and make sure that Production is on top of things and, just as important, fully supported. ('Seems the Company suffers from a VP level of legacies from "the early days" - and now they're tired.)

So Dan comes in running and jumping through hoops for them, to show them what he can do, what he can do for them, and producing, Producing, PRODUCING!

WHEW!, it's tough keeping up with Dan the Hyper-Active Man.

'Sort of fun, though.

A Song for Corwin, Bright Star of the Management Team

It's not the way
That you fill out your expense report.
It's not the way
That you never return calls
That you don't want .
It's not the way
That you insult every underling,
When you know
That you're the star that's shining most

You know I hate you
I hate you
Hate the awful clothes you wear
Hate the blow-dry plastic hair
You know I hate you

You never bother me
In public since we argued.
You never cross me
When you see me down the hall.
We had it out, we had to shout,
No one but us knows what about:
And I've kept my side
Just like you've kept yours, no doubt.

But still I hate you
I hate you
Hate the lies you always tell
Hate the way you cheat like hell
Goddamn I hate you

Someday they'll find out
You don't know a word you're saying.
Someday they'll realize
There's no action only words .
Someday they will understand
You're just a hack sales man
Who's been selling them
A bunch of cheapjack goods.

Till then I hate you
You know I hate you
Hate the way you bark and strut
Hate the way you flaunt your guff
Oh, yeah, I hate you

No, I'm not telling anyone
I know about you.
The one thing you know
About me you understand:
That I won't get another fired
And I don't care why you were hired,
I just hate it
When the liars lead the band.

But I know it doesn't matter,
One way or the other
'Cause they know you
Like a brother:
You're their man.

Buck the Bullshitter

You gotta give Buck his fully-due credit:
He’s an all-American bullshit man.

Watched him proudly display his talent today
Just as glowing as his deep tan.

He spoke about the report with eloquence, wit
Defining the goals, questioning each bit

And when, alone, he was asked about it
He answered, “Y’know, I never read that shit.”

The Silent Voice may be right

['Still noting from Monday]

Just because business and life are so screw up tight, you've gotta give The Silent Voice Veep his due: he may be right.

The Cube has noted that The Silent Voice is not unintelligent, untalented or unindustrious. Just like you and me. (Because we are all those things and more, aren't we?, we backbones of business.)

When there is an issue to be considered, the Silent Voice Veep, bully that he may be, has ideas. When there is a problem to be addressed, he has solutions.

And he smiles. He encourages. He drinks with The Team once a quarter on a tab he pays for. He never says "My way or the highway."

He doesn't need to. That is the genius of "silence": it's his way or you ain't...here.

It's his idea or you don't...talk.

It's The Silent Voice Veep's solution - right or wrong - or you're...gone.

See all the empty management seats, unfilled, inviting.

Some things is.

But...

The Silent Voice may be right...

He's a bully, he is, The Silent Voice

['Still following up on the Notes from The Cube since Monday]

Yeah, that's about what it comes down to: The Silent Voice Veep is a bully.

He's a bully in the classic way: fawning to the top, silent to his equals, and stone mean to his underlings - or anyone he thinks he can push around. That may even be his equals, "official" equals, since we already noticed that The Silent Voice Veep really is the First Among Equals by fact, if not title. And it's not so clear he's not de facto equal with the Prez, since he usually acts on behalf of the Prez. Oh, it's not said aloud - it just is.

But doesn't this make this Veep the Not-So-Silent Voice?

"Silence" is a funny thing: The Cube started noting The Silent Voice Veep at one particular meeting when he dominated by his intentional silence and removal from the discussion - and everyone else, them VPs, stuttered along awkwardly saying almost nothing until they could establish what The Silent Voice wanted. 'Turns out that the silence was a coda to earlier, private, articulations.

Observing further than last Monday's Meeting With No Voices, The Cube has observed The Silent Voice Veep collaring colleagues and pummelling them with an intense aggressiveness that borders on abusive. Rarely is his voice raised - though it is, sometimes, when he wishes to humiliate the other Veep in front of, say, the other Veep's admin secretary. To underlings who don't cower behind false bonhommie, the Bully Boy Silent Voice Veep has been heard to bark. To slam his hands on a desk. To steam . . .

Not a pretty sight.

Not a pretty boy.

No, he's not, the Bully Boy Silent Voice Veep.

Don't Outshine The Silent Voice

['Sorry, again, but these Notes from The Cube make more sense if you go back to Monday and see what's been going on.]

It's probably no surprise to anyone that you shouldn't outshine the boss.

Oh, there are bosses who are smart enough to appreciate any shining star under their banner, content and proprietary enough to simply appropriate some of the credit for themselves because, after all (and it is an honest "after all"), "It's my team: when they do good - I do good."

Still, in general, most bosses are human like you and I, subject to the same insecurities and jealousies and need for applause that - even if we shun the spotlight - we need. We need.

But what about The Silent Voice we've been Noting the past few days - the Veep With The Power who sits in meetings dominating them without saying a word? Sitting among "equals," it should be noted. He's not a "boss" to these other bosses. They are all at the top o' the heap. Honchos. Jefes. Executive Management.

But, in his silence, the Silent Voice Veep is A Star That Needs The Spotlight more than any ham actor in soap opera syndication.

In fact, the comparison is more apt than The Cube realized when writing it: The Silent Voice Veep and the other Veeps are like an the cast in a community theater musical, each one trying to steal the spotlight and show off. Or, to extend the metaphor: they're the kid's baseball team, with everyone wanting to be pitcher.

But, just like the kid whose Dad is the coach - or the diva with a husband funding the show - the Silent Voice Veep has the Prez in his pocket and gets to play the lead or pitch the ball whether deserving or not. He can't sing some songs worth a damn and his curve ball sucks against lefties - but he's not going to let anyone else substitute in. Nope, he Needs The Spotlight - even when it's someone else's turn to shine.

Especially when it's some else's turn to shine. Even if he has nothing to say, do, add or enhance. He can only subtract. Use his Silence to stall, stifle and negate.

Silence, sometimes, is very eloquent.

Meetings With The Silent Voice

['Gotta read the last two days Notes From The Cube to figure out what's going on here today.]

Learned something at the meeting a couple of days ago. The Silent Voice doesn't like to be contradicted.

Now, since The Silent Voice doesn't say anything at the meeting, it is almost always impossible to know What to Say without inadvertently contradicting him. -

(Side trip: Yep, it's a him, not a her. Someone wrote after yesterday's Note that "Of course, The Silent Voice has influence over the prez, she's sleeping with him!" Sadly, nothing quite so tawdry or romantic. The rumour here is that he saved the prez's life once, or his ass, or has really really good blackmail stuff on the prez. Or, for the catty, that he is sleeping with the prez. But when you see the two of them together, that's a disgusting proposition: gays have much better standards than The Silent Voice. Besides, The Silent Voice is on Wife No. 3 and is a notorious office lech - albeit, he is also the Moral Voice of Standards, too - so go figure.)

- What To Say without accidentally crossing The Silent Voice. Consequently, smart managers and veeps say sweet nothings at their meetings with The Silent Voice and pray to the God of Continued Employment that they are still on his good side when the meeting's dust has settled.

(Side trip: A metaphor - "dust has settled." Our meeting rooms are sterile and often colder than ice, dully lit to match the dullness of most meetings' content. The only "dust," perhaps, is the smutz that gathers on our brows as we sit quietly fighting off sleep.)

The Meeting With One Silent Voice

'Have to re-think yesterday's Meeting With No Voices, based on the reaction that's come about since.

There was A Voice. One Voice. Silent.

This meeting of 5 veeps had one vp sitting at a slight angle, working at his laptop all the while. Pointedly working - and not talking.

- and not talking: he had not called this meeting, he did not agree with the entire point of this meeting, he has the ear of the (absent) prez -

- and he wasn't talking.

And the other veeps listened to his silence, even the vp who had called the meeting thinking that it was something "for all of us to decide." He understood his mistake almost from the beginning, but he had to play it out.

Or, rather, stay silent like the others let the subordinate moi walk through the agenda, saying the words that no one would respond to and recording the decisions that no one would give voice to so that today the prez could talk to the Silent Working Veep and make his decision as if yesterday had never happened.

The Meeting With No Voices

Interesting how you can put five vice-presidents in a room for a meeting to "make decisions" and not hear a single voice.

'Heard my own voice, awkwardly, saying out loud what I expected the veeps to say. 'Got tired of saying "Well, to play devil's advocate" on this issue . . ."

Then silence. "Thoughtful" stares. A finger to the lips here, a chair rocks back-and-forth there, one hand scribbling a few strokes on a piece of paper . . .

"Then, does everyone agree . . . ?"

Sort of a nod, a blinked eye.

Change the question: "OK, then, if no one disagrees, it stays as written."

Sort of a nod, a blinked eye.

A decision is made.

Sunday Workover

There's something about working at home on a Sunday morning that just . . . sucks.

Maybe it's the early autumn sunshine glinting in through the window and caressing the papers in my briefcase. It's a sun I don't see from my cubicle. A taunting sun, warm to the shoulders and tantalizing and - unreachable beyond this pile of reports that have to be plowed through before Monday morning.

Ah, responsibility!

Where We Work: C. C. hIGHRISE

C.C. hIGHRISE

(When Coleridge Meets cummings On The Corner Of

Wilshire & Fairfax)

kUBLA kHANS DEFUNCT
WHO DECREED A GLASSMIRRORWALLED STATELY PLEASUREDOME
AND COULD ERECT ONETWOTHREEFOURFIVE MINIMALLS JUSTLIKETHAT
xANADU!
THEY WERE MEASURELESS TO MAN!
AND
WHEN YOU CLOSEYOUREYES WITH HOLY
DREAD
IS
THIS WHERE aLPH THE SACRED RIVER RAN?

excerpt from Lyrics & Lies

copyright 1988, 1994, 2000, 2004 R. C. Fleet

All Rights Reserved