Warriors, I‘m trying to think of a good punishment for people who schedule 9 a.m. meetings. Is there anything more annoying? Can someone be more inconsiderate and selfish? Maybe someone who schedules 8 a.m. meetings, but no one ever attends those, so they don’t matter.
However, you have no good excuse not to be at a 9 a.m. meeting. Legally, technically, according to HR, you should be at work and ready to go, with a smile.
But the truth is you need a good 30 to 60 minutes of coffee, chit-chat about True Blood, and YouTube video surfing before you’re actually ready to think about work, much less talk about it. Everyone in Cubeland should know this by now. It’s an unspoken agreement, “No 9 a.m. meetings!” And yet, they happen, scheduled either by the clueless or the evil.
In a 9 a.m. meeting this morning, I was literally daydreaming about the Starbucks I wasn’t visiting right then, about whether I’d get a plain latte or something more fancy, something with syrup, maybe vanilla. A muffin perhaps? Meanwhile, some jackass was yammering away about metrics and pick-ups and tie ratios and some kind of Internet-y thing about a new smart technology that will send some kind of hook on a wire out of a hard drive and pick the pockets of website visitors.
Every web agency sounds the same when they talk about their magic money-sucking technology. And I swear they invent new acronyms and buzz words every time they present. Flyby, Buzzclick, Eyepopper, Smartdot, Invisopixel, Tastycookie…just a few samples.
Anyway, back to the punishments!
Let’s go with, if you schedule a 9 a.m. meeting, you must name your first born an internet agency pseudo-English buzzword…Pixellint (for a girl) or Ramdrop (for a boy).
If you schedule a 9 a.m. meeting for a Monday morning, and you sent out the meeting invite over the weekend, let’s just agree you get the death penalty. Sorry, but you have got to go. I have dibs on your chair.
If you have other suggestions, let me know!
Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Friday, August 27, 2010
Monday, March 08, 2010
Insecure Executive Turrets Syndrome
Warriors, there are times you’ll need to diagnose illnesses, corporate illnesses, the kind not curable through traditional medicine, the kind with symptoms that could cause you craziness, frustration, hours of extra work, hysterical laughter and quite possibly rage.
Today, we will discuss Insecure Executive Turrets Syndrome, a horrible scourge that plagues Cubeland. ETS is quite common among the white collared, from whom you’ll hear all kinds of wrong, stupid and bizarre things. These people are sane, educated and probably not drunk. They are simply suffering from ETS.
There are various varieties of ETS, but today we’ll just be discussing the “Insecure” strain.
Insecure Executive Turrets Syndrome presents itself in meetings where the patient isn’t saying much, where everyone else is participating, discussing, and being productive. The patient will be the guy in the corner, furrowing his brow and nodding his head, maybe looking confused, and remaining silent.
The Insecure Executive, who might be new to the company, or maybe just dumb, will eventually become uncomfortable with his own silence. His boss will say something. His direct reports will be contributing. Others in the room will add to the discussion. Things might be going quite well, except for the fact that he’s not saying anything, not proving himself to be worthy of being in the room, and perhaps not worthy of his paycheck.
He’s thinking about himself and what everyone is thinking of him, and not the problem being discussed. He feels himself in quicksand, sinking slowly deeper into his silence, where he will eventually become completely unneeded, ignored and inconsequential.
At that point, to stave off the panic, he’ll blurt out something beside the point, redundant or crazy.
“I think our target market should be everybody!” could be one blurted out statement, and anyone who knows anything about marketing knows that that statement is the dumbest ever uttered. Yet, people keep saying it like it means something. Why? Because it sounds big and bold, like you’re pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. It’s as meaningless as saying, “What I think we should do is push the boundaries of what’s possible!”
Sure, skipper, you write up a project plan for all that boundary pushing you think we should be doing.
Other things you might hear the IETS victim blurt out include:
“What if we brought this idea to Facebook!”
“What if we buy a Super Bowl ad!”
“We should get even further outside the box!”
“Take a look at Avatar! What’s the common dominator between us and Avatar? It’s the biggest movie ever! Maybe something about the color blue…”
“What if we went so far outside of the box that we end up back in the box?!”
“Let’s set up more brainstorm meetings to generate ideation around the boundaries we need to push outside of the box and into another box where Facebook apps live. Also, Twitter. What about Twitter?”
In short, if you hear something crazy, redundant, blindingly obvious or that is a head-rattling non sequitur, you are in the presence of someone experiencing Insecure Executive Turrets Syndrome.
There is no cure, sadly. Just pretend you didn’t hear anything and move along. The victim will eventually get over it, or, if your company is like my company, promoted over and over again.
Tip! If you experience IETS, do not speak. Hold it in. It might hurt; it might even burn. But keep your mouth shut. If you absolutely have to say something, ask a question. Contrary to popular belief, people who ask questions almost always sound smarter than people who blurt out inanities or blinding flashes of the obvious.
Today, we will discuss Insecure Executive Turrets Syndrome, a horrible scourge that plagues Cubeland. ETS is quite common among the white collared, from whom you’ll hear all kinds of wrong, stupid and bizarre things. These people are sane, educated and probably not drunk. They are simply suffering from ETS.
There are various varieties of ETS, but today we’ll just be discussing the “Insecure” strain.
Insecure Executive Turrets Syndrome presents itself in meetings where the patient isn’t saying much, where everyone else is participating, discussing, and being productive. The patient will be the guy in the corner, furrowing his brow and nodding his head, maybe looking confused, and remaining silent.
The Insecure Executive, who might be new to the company, or maybe just dumb, will eventually become uncomfortable with his own silence. His boss will say something. His direct reports will be contributing. Others in the room will add to the discussion. Things might be going quite well, except for the fact that he’s not saying anything, not proving himself to be worthy of being in the room, and perhaps not worthy of his paycheck.
He’s thinking about himself and what everyone is thinking of him, and not the problem being discussed. He feels himself in quicksand, sinking slowly deeper into his silence, where he will eventually become completely unneeded, ignored and inconsequential.
At that point, to stave off the panic, he’ll blurt out something beside the point, redundant or crazy.
“I think our target market should be everybody!” could be one blurted out statement, and anyone who knows anything about marketing knows that that statement is the dumbest ever uttered. Yet, people keep saying it like it means something. Why? Because it sounds big and bold, like you’re pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. It’s as meaningless as saying, “What I think we should do is push the boundaries of what’s possible!”
Sure, skipper, you write up a project plan for all that boundary pushing you think we should be doing.
Other things you might hear the IETS victim blurt out include:
“What if we brought this idea to Facebook!”
“What if we buy a Super Bowl ad!”
“We should get even further outside the box!”
“Take a look at Avatar! What’s the common dominator between us and Avatar? It’s the biggest movie ever! Maybe something about the color blue…”
“What if we went so far outside of the box that we end up back in the box?!”
“Let’s set up more brainstorm meetings to generate ideation around the boundaries we need to push outside of the box and into another box where Facebook apps live. Also, Twitter. What about Twitter?”
In short, if you hear something crazy, redundant, blindingly obvious or that is a head-rattling non sequitur, you are in the presence of someone experiencing Insecure Executive Turrets Syndrome.
There is no cure, sadly. Just pretend you didn’t hear anything and move along. The victim will eventually get over it, or, if your company is like my company, promoted over and over again.
Tip! If you experience IETS, do not speak. Hold it in. It might hurt; it might even burn. But keep your mouth shut. If you absolutely have to say something, ask a question. Contrary to popular belief, people who ask questions almost always sound smarter than people who blurt out inanities or blinding flashes of the obvious.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
CHAPTER 2 – Working Hard at Hardly Working
(Note: This is Chapter Two of my book, White Collar Warrior. You can read the chapters that come before this one by clicking on the chapter links to the right. If you are interested in representing or publishing my book, please let me know at whitecollarwarrior@hotmail.com. Thanks!)
Key Lesson: Appear to work longer and harder than everyone else. (It doesn’t matter if you really do or not. The key word in this lesson is “appear.”)
JIMMY’S DAY SEVEN
Jimmy is settling in, hasn’t got himself fired, and managed to get computer passwords and office supplies. Good for Jimmy. So far, he’s proven himself to be useless, but harmless. In today’s world, useless can keep you employed for quite a while, so he’s safe for now. He hasn’t been there long enough to screw up publicly or take the blame for someone else’s public screw up, the two things that will often get you canned.
Jimmy is also working on a few small projects and assignments, mostly low level tasks because Dick doesn’t think too much of Jimmy…yet.
One thing Jimmy did do right, he called the number on that business card. He called the White Collar Warrior, and he got himself a little advice. Not much. The WCW doesn’t give away a lot of knowledge at first. He doles it out to those who earn it, who deserve it, and who pay monthly fee for it. And Jimmy, by making that call, earned a few words of advice.
Those words resulted in Jimmy doing something useful during his otherwise spectacularly unproductive seven days. He’s taken note of Bob’s often tension filled phone calls, and he’s noticed that on the days Bob has one of those calls, Bob leaves the office right at 6 p.m., or even a little early.
And on those days, after he bids Bob a warm farewell, he waits ten minutes, then goes to Dick’s office and asks a question, normally for some bit of information that Bob is responsible for. He never comes out and says: “Bob isn’t here.” In fact, he never says Bob’s name unless Dick says it first. Remember -- be subtle. Your intent must be invisible and your tactics imperceptible.
For instance, Jimmy has asked: “Do you have those 1997 numbers for the comparative graph I’m building?”
“Bob has those. He keeps track of all the archived metrics,” says Dick.
“I’ll get them tomorrow from Bob then.”
“What? Did Bob leave?”
“Yeah, he had to take off. No biggie. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”
See? Subtle. This exchange wasn’t a big deal. And by itself, would have no effect positive or negative on Jimmy’s career. However, what if a conversation like that was to be had every week, or two or three times a week? What if it became more and more obvious that Jimmy worked longer hours than Bob?
If you were Dick, wouldn’t you gain just a little more respect for Jimmy. Maybe you’d give him a few of Bob’s duties, a little sliver of Bob’s territory, because you need stuff done and Jimmy is around to do it. At that point, Jimmy has begun winning the battle against Bob, and Bob doesn’t even know he’s in a fight.
I know what you’re thinking. For that to work, Jimmy will actually have to work longer hours than Bob and often more than his boss. You hate working long hours. You’ve got TV to watch, videos games to play, and kids to put to bed. They miss their dad and are growing up without your influence. They call you “the guy who sleeps in the bed with mom” in between exploring your not-so-well hidden porn collection and smoking fatties rolled with your stash, also not hidden so well. (An ice cream tub in the freezer? What were you thinking?). Wah. Wah. Here’s a tissue, you big baby. If you think like that, you’ll never be a white collar warrior.
I’m not saying be an idiot about it. Feel free to leave right after all your co-workers leave. Also, if you want to spend time in a restroom reading the newspaper, or playing craps with the security guards or chatting up the cleaning lady, feel free to do that too. Being at work long hours doesn’t mean actually working long hours. Fill those hours however you want, but just don’t get caught.
Do your goofing off during the day and then actually work during the evening, when you have some peace and when your superiors will better notice it. Sending in a report at 3 p.m. is no big deal. But send one in at 8 p.m., and you’re a big hero because you “put in the extra hours to get the job done.”
How do you do that? How do you stave off actual work during the day so you actually work at night? Meetings. Not real ones. But the ones you tell people you’re going to.
In a company with lots of departments, you’re going to have lots and lots of meetings. They are the curse of the modern workplace (along with the hellish invention of email, of which there is a chapter in this book called Email – Proof That God Hates Us), and you’ll have days when you do nothing but sit in a chair in a room full of people who will say nothing remotely interesting or relevant to you. (See the chapter Meeting Masturbation for how to get the most use out of them.)
You can take advantage of this plague of the corporate world by declaring you’re going to a meeting and then taking off for an hour or two. Everyone will believe you because everyone is besieged by meetings. And what’s really great is that when your boss comes looking for you, or your spouse, or your mother, or your creepy kids, the word is given from someone who is quite sincere: “He’s in a meeting.”
Back in the olden days, when fax machines printed on thermal paper and office administrators were secretaries chased around by martini-swigging bosses, you had to lie to get out of work, faking a soar throat or complaining about nausea or diarrhea. (If you were good at it, you called with your head actually inside a toilet bowl, in order to get just the right echo while you poured canned beef stew into the water. It sounds perfect. Try it sometime and see.)
But today, the business gods have given us the curse of meetings, and the blessing of having the perfect excuse to disappear for an hour or two.
Important note on that: Be sure and take a pad and paper, or even better, your laptop computer. You go to and from fake meetings with crap in your arms and a worried, determine look in your eyes. You don’t trot off empty handed and smiling. Don’t be an ass and say “I’m off to the planning meeting” without so much as a pen and pad in your hand. And please, don’t forget to write something on the pad before you get back. Two pages of doodles, fake notes or death threats to members of Congress per hour you were gone should be sufficiently convincing.
And what to do during this free time?
Take an early dinner at 4 p.m. at the restaurant that always crowded after 5 p.m. Visit the bookstore across the street. Get a lap dance or two if an exotic entertainment establishment is close by. Sleep in your car. Sleep in a bathroom with your head on the toilet paper dispenser. Do whatever it is you need to do to feel like you aren’t working.
Then, return to work, where your co-workers are watching the clock waiting for 6 p.m., getting ready to shoot out the door like someone received an envelope full of white powder. With them finally gone, you can settle in for some actual productivity. As they trot out, there you’ll be, hard at work for all to see.
That will earn you “midnight oil” points, which you’ll be able to spend during your performance review self-appraisal, when you write: “I work late into the night when it’s called for and don’t leave until the job is done.” And that will be true, though you will be leaving out this line: “…but during the day I watch The Sopranos on DVD in the back seat of my SUV.”
What about those other points, the less popular, more unpleasant-to-get points…the “early bird catches the worm” points?
Yeah, I hate them too, but you need them, especially at the start of your career. You need to be the first one in AND the last one out. You need to be sitting in your cube, typing away, LOUDLY, so that people hear you. (It would be really dumb of you to come in early and not make sure people noticed.)
You need to see that look in their eyes when they arrive at work to find you already at your desk, that look that says: “What the fuck is that guy doing here all ready? He’s making me look bad.”
And more than being early, make your presence felt. Put on the coffee so it’s waiting for people when they arrive, so the rest of the morning they’ll be drinking your coffee. Put out donuts every two or three weeks. There’s nothing as tempting as a free donut, and with each deep-fried apple fritter they bite into, they’ll know it was you who paid for it
When you show up before everyone else, the building is yours, the company is yours, the stash of Girl Scout cookies in your co-worker’s cube is yours. You’re the boss and you’re making critical decisions. About what? How does being early give you power?
If you are the first one in, you can drop meeting invites on people while they are still sipping weak coffee from their travel mugs in rush hour traffic. By logging into the meeting maker first, you can set up meetings concerning your projects before anyone else has a chance. First one to schedule a meeting wins. And when you set up a meeting, you’ve established that meeting room as your territory, the domain you rule. (Again, see the chapter called Meeting Masturbation.)
So, you’re coming in earlier than everyone, leaving later than everyone and even though you’re taking advantage of some free time during the day, you’re still unhappy. It still feels like work if you aren’t at home eating ice cream out of the carton and watching Oprah in your own living room.
I can’t help you if that’s how you feel. You think Donald Trump didn’t put in some hours? You think Bill Gates kept up to date on his soaps while he was making his first billion dollars? You think Bush Jr. got to be president by being a spoiled brat and coasting through life on his family fortune and political connections? It’s true, that is exactly what W did, but unless you’ve got an oil field or two on the family ledger, you aren’t going to get by like W did.
You’re going to work your ass off. Take your pleasures when they come, but if you think you can do this without doing some actual work, forget it. I’m promising to help you to work smarter, but I’m not saying you don’t have to work.
Also, I am not giving you a license to complain about working hard. When I say make your boss and co-workers aware of the hours you’re putting in, I’m saying to subtly let them know you are being cheerfully productive while they go home to their families, favorite TV shows and warm, cozy beds. You smile at them and modestly say you’re going to finish up and go home when you can. You are cheerful in the morning when they arrive. You are not grumpy and you don’t snipe at people for not being there when you are.
You are gracious and happy at all times. You love your work, or at least you act like you love your work. And that’s the real threat to everyone around you in Cubeland, and the reason your boss is going to keep giving you hunks of other people’s territory, because you never complain. You’re eager to take on anything and everything because you’d love nothing more than to work every waking minute. If you start bitching, the boss will start taking things away from you just to shut you up. Capisci?
And that brings us back to Jimmy. Look at him. He’s working late on his report. Even Dick is gone, after having said, “Goodnight! Don’t work too late. You’ll make me look bad. Heh. Heh.”
After the building is quiet and it is certain no one else is around, Jimmy types for a few minutes, then closes the file. He was actually done an hour ago.
He sets up his email to send the report at 11 p.m., instead of the current time of 7 p.m. Using an easily downloadable bit of freeware, he will get credit for another 4 hours of work, because all Dick will know is that email was sent at 11 p.m., and Dick will be appreciative that Jimmy put in so many extra hours on his project.
Jimmy then goes into the meeting maker and schedules two meetings, each with three people, each for projects that Dick threw at him earlier. Then, he schedules another meeting, from 3 to 6 p.m., and Jimmy invites just himself. He labels it “High Level Project Planning,” so when people try to find Jimmy, they’ll get the message that he’s already taking part in a highly important gathering.
Actually, he’s going to go ice skating, and will then treat himself to a facial at the spa around the corner. Then he’s going to come back to work and settle in just as his co-workers are leaving, each of them wondering if they should work longer hours as well, because that damn new guy is really putting in some time. Damn him.
Perfect. Good job, Jimmy.
THE WHITE COLLAR WARRIOR’S ADVICE FOR STANDING OUT ABOVE THE COMPETION AT THE START OF YOUR CAREER
1. Work longer than everyone else, but not necessarily harder. You are the first one in and the last one out. Make sure your boss knows. Make sure your co-workers know.
2. Don’t be an ass about it. Remember, be subtle. Don’t sigh and moan about having to work so many hours. Don’t be complainer. The last thing anyone wants to hear is someone bitching about how hard work is. Here’s a little secret: Everyone thinks they work too many hours. Everyone is overworked, or feels that they are. Just about everyone hates their job, and they aren’t interested in knowing that you hate your job too.
3. Scam a few extra hours of credit by using an email delay send program. Don’t abuse it, but once a week or so set up some email to be sent between 11 p.m. and midnight.
4. Use a meeting as an excuse to escape work during the day, when you can have your fun and take a few minor pleasures, just enough to get through your hellish corporate existence.
5. At night, be happily working as your co-workers and boss walk past you and out the door. Say goodnight with a smile, especially to your boss. Get some real work done now that the place is quiet. Or watch movies on a portable DVD player. Or take a nap. Whatever. Up to you.
6. Set up meetings after co-workers have left or before they come in. Take control of their schedules before they can take control of yours.
7. Come in before your boss. Make sure everyone knows you were there first by making coffee, bringing in donuts, and saying good morning loudly to each person as they walk past your cube. Like I said, don’t be a grouch. But if you really are in a bad mood and you need a little morning giggle, lick each the donuts and put them back on the tray. It’s cheap, I know, but it will give you a smile when you need one.
END OF CHAPTER TWO
Key Lesson: Appear to work longer and harder than everyone else. (It doesn’t matter if you really do or not. The key word in this lesson is “appear.”)
JIMMY’S DAY SEVEN
Jimmy is settling in, hasn’t got himself fired, and managed to get computer passwords and office supplies. Good for Jimmy. So far, he’s proven himself to be useless, but harmless. In today’s world, useless can keep you employed for quite a while, so he’s safe for now. He hasn’t been there long enough to screw up publicly or take the blame for someone else’s public screw up, the two things that will often get you canned.
Jimmy is also working on a few small projects and assignments, mostly low level tasks because Dick doesn’t think too much of Jimmy…yet.
One thing Jimmy did do right, he called the number on that business card. He called the White Collar Warrior, and he got himself a little advice. Not much. The WCW doesn’t give away a lot of knowledge at first. He doles it out to those who earn it, who deserve it, and who pay monthly fee for it. And Jimmy, by making that call, earned a few words of advice.
Those words resulted in Jimmy doing something useful during his otherwise spectacularly unproductive seven days. He’s taken note of Bob’s often tension filled phone calls, and he’s noticed that on the days Bob has one of those calls, Bob leaves the office right at 6 p.m., or even a little early.
And on those days, after he bids Bob a warm farewell, he waits ten minutes, then goes to Dick’s office and asks a question, normally for some bit of information that Bob is responsible for. He never comes out and says: “Bob isn’t here.” In fact, he never says Bob’s name unless Dick says it first. Remember -- be subtle. Your intent must be invisible and your tactics imperceptible.
For instance, Jimmy has asked: “Do you have those 1997 numbers for the comparative graph I’m building?”
“Bob has those. He keeps track of all the archived metrics,” says Dick.
“I’ll get them tomorrow from Bob then.”
“What? Did Bob leave?”
“Yeah, he had to take off. No biggie. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”
See? Subtle. This exchange wasn’t a big deal. And by itself, would have no effect positive or negative on Jimmy’s career. However, what if a conversation like that was to be had every week, or two or three times a week? What if it became more and more obvious that Jimmy worked longer hours than Bob?
If you were Dick, wouldn’t you gain just a little more respect for Jimmy. Maybe you’d give him a few of Bob’s duties, a little sliver of Bob’s territory, because you need stuff done and Jimmy is around to do it. At that point, Jimmy has begun winning the battle against Bob, and Bob doesn’t even know he’s in a fight.
I know what you’re thinking. For that to work, Jimmy will actually have to work longer hours than Bob and often more than his boss. You hate working long hours. You’ve got TV to watch, videos games to play, and kids to put to bed. They miss their dad and are growing up without your influence. They call you “the guy who sleeps in the bed with mom” in between exploring your not-so-well hidden porn collection and smoking fatties rolled with your stash, also not hidden so well. (An ice cream tub in the freezer? What were you thinking?). Wah. Wah. Here’s a tissue, you big baby. If you think like that, you’ll never be a white collar warrior.
I’m not saying be an idiot about it. Feel free to leave right after all your co-workers leave. Also, if you want to spend time in a restroom reading the newspaper, or playing craps with the security guards or chatting up the cleaning lady, feel free to do that too. Being at work long hours doesn’t mean actually working long hours. Fill those hours however you want, but just don’t get caught.
Do your goofing off during the day and then actually work during the evening, when you have some peace and when your superiors will better notice it. Sending in a report at 3 p.m. is no big deal. But send one in at 8 p.m., and you’re a big hero because you “put in the extra hours to get the job done.”
How do you do that? How do you stave off actual work during the day so you actually work at night? Meetings. Not real ones. But the ones you tell people you’re going to.
In a company with lots of departments, you’re going to have lots and lots of meetings. They are the curse of the modern workplace (along with the hellish invention of email, of which there is a chapter in this book called Email – Proof That God Hates Us), and you’ll have days when you do nothing but sit in a chair in a room full of people who will say nothing remotely interesting or relevant to you. (See the chapter Meeting Masturbation for how to get the most use out of them.)
You can take advantage of this plague of the corporate world by declaring you’re going to a meeting and then taking off for an hour or two. Everyone will believe you because everyone is besieged by meetings. And what’s really great is that when your boss comes looking for you, or your spouse, or your mother, or your creepy kids, the word is given from someone who is quite sincere: “He’s in a meeting.”
Back in the olden days, when fax machines printed on thermal paper and office administrators were secretaries chased around by martini-swigging bosses, you had to lie to get out of work, faking a soar throat or complaining about nausea or diarrhea. (If you were good at it, you called with your head actually inside a toilet bowl, in order to get just the right echo while you poured canned beef stew into the water. It sounds perfect. Try it sometime and see.)
But today, the business gods have given us the curse of meetings, and the blessing of having the perfect excuse to disappear for an hour or two.
Important note on that: Be sure and take a pad and paper, or even better, your laptop computer. You go to and from fake meetings with crap in your arms and a worried, determine look in your eyes. You don’t trot off empty handed and smiling. Don’t be an ass and say “I’m off to the planning meeting” without so much as a pen and pad in your hand. And please, don’t forget to write something on the pad before you get back. Two pages of doodles, fake notes or death threats to members of Congress per hour you were gone should be sufficiently convincing.
And what to do during this free time?
Take an early dinner at 4 p.m. at the restaurant that always crowded after 5 p.m. Visit the bookstore across the street. Get a lap dance or two if an exotic entertainment establishment is close by. Sleep in your car. Sleep in a bathroom with your head on the toilet paper dispenser. Do whatever it is you need to do to feel like you aren’t working.
Then, return to work, where your co-workers are watching the clock waiting for 6 p.m., getting ready to shoot out the door like someone received an envelope full of white powder. With them finally gone, you can settle in for some actual productivity. As they trot out, there you’ll be, hard at work for all to see.
That will earn you “midnight oil” points, which you’ll be able to spend during your performance review self-appraisal, when you write: “I work late into the night when it’s called for and don’t leave until the job is done.” And that will be true, though you will be leaving out this line: “…but during the day I watch The Sopranos on DVD in the back seat of my SUV.”
What about those other points, the less popular, more unpleasant-to-get points…the “early bird catches the worm” points?
Yeah, I hate them too, but you need them, especially at the start of your career. You need to be the first one in AND the last one out. You need to be sitting in your cube, typing away, LOUDLY, so that people hear you. (It would be really dumb of you to come in early and not make sure people noticed.)
You need to see that look in their eyes when they arrive at work to find you already at your desk, that look that says: “What the fuck is that guy doing here all ready? He’s making me look bad.”
And more than being early, make your presence felt. Put on the coffee so it’s waiting for people when they arrive, so the rest of the morning they’ll be drinking your coffee. Put out donuts every two or three weeks. There’s nothing as tempting as a free donut, and with each deep-fried apple fritter they bite into, they’ll know it was you who paid for it
When you show up before everyone else, the building is yours, the company is yours, the stash of Girl Scout cookies in your co-worker’s cube is yours. You’re the boss and you’re making critical decisions. About what? How does being early give you power?
If you are the first one in, you can drop meeting invites on people while they are still sipping weak coffee from their travel mugs in rush hour traffic. By logging into the meeting maker first, you can set up meetings concerning your projects before anyone else has a chance. First one to schedule a meeting wins. And when you set up a meeting, you’ve established that meeting room as your territory, the domain you rule. (Again, see the chapter called Meeting Masturbation.)
So, you’re coming in earlier than everyone, leaving later than everyone and even though you’re taking advantage of some free time during the day, you’re still unhappy. It still feels like work if you aren’t at home eating ice cream out of the carton and watching Oprah in your own living room.
I can’t help you if that’s how you feel. You think Donald Trump didn’t put in some hours? You think Bill Gates kept up to date on his soaps while he was making his first billion dollars? You think Bush Jr. got to be president by being a spoiled brat and coasting through life on his family fortune and political connections? It’s true, that is exactly what W did, but unless you’ve got an oil field or two on the family ledger, you aren’t going to get by like W did.
You’re going to work your ass off. Take your pleasures when they come, but if you think you can do this without doing some actual work, forget it. I’m promising to help you to work smarter, but I’m not saying you don’t have to work.
Also, I am not giving you a license to complain about working hard. When I say make your boss and co-workers aware of the hours you’re putting in, I’m saying to subtly let them know you are being cheerfully productive while they go home to their families, favorite TV shows and warm, cozy beds. You smile at them and modestly say you’re going to finish up and go home when you can. You are cheerful in the morning when they arrive. You are not grumpy and you don’t snipe at people for not being there when you are.
You are gracious and happy at all times. You love your work, or at least you act like you love your work. And that’s the real threat to everyone around you in Cubeland, and the reason your boss is going to keep giving you hunks of other people’s territory, because you never complain. You’re eager to take on anything and everything because you’d love nothing more than to work every waking minute. If you start bitching, the boss will start taking things away from you just to shut you up. Capisci?
And that brings us back to Jimmy. Look at him. He’s working late on his report. Even Dick is gone, after having said, “Goodnight! Don’t work too late. You’ll make me look bad. Heh. Heh.”
After the building is quiet and it is certain no one else is around, Jimmy types for a few minutes, then closes the file. He was actually done an hour ago.
He sets up his email to send the report at 11 p.m., instead of the current time of 7 p.m. Using an easily downloadable bit of freeware, he will get credit for another 4 hours of work, because all Dick will know is that email was sent at 11 p.m., and Dick will be appreciative that Jimmy put in so many extra hours on his project.
Jimmy then goes into the meeting maker and schedules two meetings, each with three people, each for projects that Dick threw at him earlier. Then, he schedules another meeting, from 3 to 6 p.m., and Jimmy invites just himself. He labels it “High Level Project Planning,” so when people try to find Jimmy, they’ll get the message that he’s already taking part in a highly important gathering.
Actually, he’s going to go ice skating, and will then treat himself to a facial at the spa around the corner. Then he’s going to come back to work and settle in just as his co-workers are leaving, each of them wondering if they should work longer hours as well, because that damn new guy is really putting in some time. Damn him.
Perfect. Good job, Jimmy.
THE WHITE COLLAR WARRIOR’S ADVICE FOR STANDING OUT ABOVE THE COMPETION AT THE START OF YOUR CAREER
1. Work longer than everyone else, but not necessarily harder. You are the first one in and the last one out. Make sure your boss knows. Make sure your co-workers know.
2. Don’t be an ass about it. Remember, be subtle. Don’t sigh and moan about having to work so many hours. Don’t be complainer. The last thing anyone wants to hear is someone bitching about how hard work is. Here’s a little secret: Everyone thinks they work too many hours. Everyone is overworked, or feels that they are. Just about everyone hates their job, and they aren’t interested in knowing that you hate your job too.
3. Scam a few extra hours of credit by using an email delay send program. Don’t abuse it, but once a week or so set up some email to be sent between 11 p.m. and midnight.
4. Use a meeting as an excuse to escape work during the day, when you can have your fun and take a few minor pleasures, just enough to get through your hellish corporate existence.
5. At night, be happily working as your co-workers and boss walk past you and out the door. Say goodnight with a smile, especially to your boss. Get some real work done now that the place is quiet. Or watch movies on a portable DVD player. Or take a nap. Whatever. Up to you.
6. Set up meetings after co-workers have left or before they come in. Take control of their schedules before they can take control of yours.
7. Come in before your boss. Make sure everyone knows you were there first by making coffee, bringing in donuts, and saying good morning loudly to each person as they walk past your cube. Like I said, don’t be a grouch. But if you really are in a bad mood and you need a little morning giggle, lick each the donuts and put them back on the tray. It’s cheap, I know, but it will give you a smile when you need one.
END OF CHAPTER TWO
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Chapter One, Part 2 - ADVICE FOR CAREER DAY ONE
THE WHITE COLLAR WARRIOR’S ADVICE FOR CAREER DAY ONE
Jimmy made just about every mistake possible, the same exact mistakes most cube dwellers make on Day One.
Here is what you need to do on your first day as a White Collar Warrior:
1. Realize this and believe it with every ounce of your being: No one at your company gives a flying, flaming fuck about you if it’s your first day at a bottom-of-the-ladder job.
a. Everyone in Cubeland is trying to get up the ladder, and what they don’t need is someone climbing up their backs trying to get ahead of them. Your boss, co-workers, every person in your department, every person in every other department, and every one else right down to the cleaning staff resent your existence and wish you would go away. You’re either more work for them or a threat to their own little hunk of territory.
b. And that’s why you need to follow this next rule:
2. Don’t rely on anyone for help, especially those who are assigned to help you. Be aggressive in getting the supplies and information you need to work.
a. Sometimes needed info and advice will be offered on Day One, but it will likely be incomplete info and bad advice. You’ll be lucky to get accurate directions to the restroom. Most companies have some kind of orientation (complete with a stupor-inducing tour) and some form of welcomer or, in the case of one company I know of, a “day one buddy.” (One day is about all the friendship you’re going to get from this buddy, who probably volunteered for the job to get the $20 company café voucher, of which he will spend about $10 on your welcome lunch and pocket the rest.)
3. When you come into contact with your welcomer (or whatever they call it at your company) get these things before you are abandoned:
a. An up-to-date company phone directory, which you will visually confirm was printed at some point in the last 30 days.
b. Your computer passwords, which you will make sure work before your welcomer leaves your cube. If she needs to bring in some tech guys, then fine, but she doesn’t leave until you’re up and running.
c. Your welcomer’s name, location of her cube, phone extension and the name of her supervisor, so you can send a nice note on how you were treated (or how bewildered and ignorant she left you).
d. Plenty of legal pads, pens, a stapler, a tape dispenser (with plenty of tape) and a box of paper clips (no less than 100).
4. Once all that’s done, call your boss and schedule a meeting for as soon as possible.
a. Begin taking control of the relationship with your supervisor. You need to think about managing him, and not letting yourself be managed. He needs to know that you’re so efficient and hard working you don’t need supervision.
5. Begin taking stocking of your co-workers.
a. You need to know them. What are they working on? What are their likes and dislikes? What are their fears? And most importantly, what are their weaknesses?
b. Eventually, you’re going to make a list of enemies and allies. No matter which side a co-worker falls on, you need all the intelligence you can gather. You never know who you’re going to need to destroy.
c. Much more on this in Chapter Three: Know Your Enemies, Otherwise Known as Your Co-Workers.
ANALYSIS OF JIMMY’S DAY ONE
Back to Jimmy, and his sorry example. Aside from the obvious stuff, there were a couple things he could have done to give him a serious edge on Day One.
One, he should have taken note of everything in Bob’s cube. Bob, being a dick and fairly stupid, turned his back on Jimmy. At that point Jimmy should have scanned Bob’s desk, any memos or notepad with writing on them, and anything written on the white board. If Bob is controlling any territory that Jimmy wants, Jimmy lost a chance to find out.
Two, he should have taken note of Bob’s conversation, which was probably with a girlfriend or spouse. The tone of it was filled with low-level anger and frustration, a sign of relationship trouble, a serious weakness. That fact should have been filed away in Jimmy’s list of usable facts. Workers with relationship problems are extremely easy to manipulate. There is much more on this in Chapter Three: Know Your Enemies, Otherwise Known as Your Co-Workers.
And another thing Jimmy didn’t take note of, but he’ll realize it soon enough…His boss is an ass. You might think Dick is a disciple of the White Collar Warrior because he has an air of confidence and used the lame technique of “accidentally” talking shit about someone when you know they can hear you.
Let’s get something straight. A WCW is almost always subtle, almost always perceived as a nice person, almost always liked by those around him. Going out of your way to piss people off is a dumb move, especially the people who work for you because those are the people to whom you are the most vulnerable.
In the olden days, when you went into battle with sword and shield, you held your shield toward the enemy, anticipating that’s where an attack will come from. And that left your back is exposed to whom? An ally with a sword as sharp as yours. You really want the guy behind you, with a clear shot at your unprotected backside, pissed at you?
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Jimmy made just about every mistake possible, the same exact mistakes most cube dwellers make on Day One.
Here is what you need to do on your first day as a White Collar Warrior:
1. Realize this and believe it with every ounce of your being: No one at your company gives a flying, flaming fuck about you if it’s your first day at a bottom-of-the-ladder job.
a. Everyone in Cubeland is trying to get up the ladder, and what they don’t need is someone climbing up their backs trying to get ahead of them. Your boss, co-workers, every person in your department, every person in every other department, and every one else right down to the cleaning staff resent your existence and wish you would go away. You’re either more work for them or a threat to their own little hunk of territory.
b. And that’s why you need to follow this next rule:
2. Don’t rely on anyone for help, especially those who are assigned to help you. Be aggressive in getting the supplies and information you need to work.
a. Sometimes needed info and advice will be offered on Day One, but it will likely be incomplete info and bad advice. You’ll be lucky to get accurate directions to the restroom. Most companies have some kind of orientation (complete with a stupor-inducing tour) and some form of welcomer or, in the case of one company I know of, a “day one buddy.” (One day is about all the friendship you’re going to get from this buddy, who probably volunteered for the job to get the $20 company café voucher, of which he will spend about $10 on your welcome lunch and pocket the rest.)
3. When you come into contact with your welcomer (or whatever they call it at your company) get these things before you are abandoned:
a. An up-to-date company phone directory, which you will visually confirm was printed at some point in the last 30 days.
b. Your computer passwords, which you will make sure work before your welcomer leaves your cube. If she needs to bring in some tech guys, then fine, but she doesn’t leave until you’re up and running.
c. Your welcomer’s name, location of her cube, phone extension and the name of her supervisor, so you can send a nice note on how you were treated (or how bewildered and ignorant she left you).
d. Plenty of legal pads, pens, a stapler, a tape dispenser (with plenty of tape) and a box of paper clips (no less than 100).
4. Once all that’s done, call your boss and schedule a meeting for as soon as possible.
a. Begin taking control of the relationship with your supervisor. You need to think about managing him, and not letting yourself be managed. He needs to know that you’re so efficient and hard working you don’t need supervision.
5. Begin taking stocking of your co-workers.
a. You need to know them. What are they working on? What are their likes and dislikes? What are their fears? And most importantly, what are their weaknesses?
b. Eventually, you’re going to make a list of enemies and allies. No matter which side a co-worker falls on, you need all the intelligence you can gather. You never know who you’re going to need to destroy.
c. Much more on this in Chapter Three: Know Your Enemies, Otherwise Known as Your Co-Workers.
ANALYSIS OF JIMMY’S DAY ONE
Back to Jimmy, and his sorry example. Aside from the obvious stuff, there were a couple things he could have done to give him a serious edge on Day One.
One, he should have taken note of everything in Bob’s cube. Bob, being a dick and fairly stupid, turned his back on Jimmy. At that point Jimmy should have scanned Bob’s desk, any memos or notepad with writing on them, and anything written on the white board. If Bob is controlling any territory that Jimmy wants, Jimmy lost a chance to find out.
Two, he should have taken note of Bob’s conversation, which was probably with a girlfriend or spouse. The tone of it was filled with low-level anger and frustration, a sign of relationship trouble, a serious weakness. That fact should have been filed away in Jimmy’s list of usable facts. Workers with relationship problems are extremely easy to manipulate. There is much more on this in Chapter Three: Know Your Enemies, Otherwise Known as Your Co-Workers.
And another thing Jimmy didn’t take note of, but he’ll realize it soon enough…His boss is an ass. You might think Dick is a disciple of the White Collar Warrior because he has an air of confidence and used the lame technique of “accidentally” talking shit about someone when you know they can hear you.
Let’s get something straight. A WCW is almost always subtle, almost always perceived as a nice person, almost always liked by those around him. Going out of your way to piss people off is a dumb move, especially the people who work for you because those are the people to whom you are the most vulnerable.
In the olden days, when you went into battle with sword and shield, you held your shield toward the enemy, anticipating that’s where an attack will come from. And that left your back is exposed to whom? An ally with a sword as sharp as yours. You really want the guy behind you, with a clear shot at your unprotected backside, pissed at you?
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Can You Make That Meeting?
Please attend the next meeting, the meeting-meeting.
Not that one. The other one. The new one. It's a new meeting. Not the other one from yesterday, or this morning, or the conference call on Saturday morning, or the one Tuesday night where we missed American Idol, or the lunch meeting where whatshisname ate like a pound of potato salad.
I’m talking about the next meeting-meeting, where we need to talk about meetings, the planning of meetings, the scheduling of meetings, the timing of meetings, how many meetings we need, and when food, and what food, is allowed at meetings.
If the meeting-meeting conflicts with a meeting, let me know when you are free, because right now, your schedule looks completely blocked out. Are those all real meetings or fake meetings you scheduled in order to have some meeting-free time?
If you could free up one of your meeting-free hours, I’d appreciate it.
Thanks!
Not that one. The other one. The new one. It's a new meeting. Not the other one from yesterday, or this morning, or the conference call on Saturday morning, or the one Tuesday night where we missed American Idol, or the lunch meeting where whatshisname ate like a pound of potato salad.
I’m talking about the next meeting-meeting, where we need to talk about meetings, the planning of meetings, the scheduling of meetings, the timing of meetings, how many meetings we need, and when food, and what food, is allowed at meetings.
If the meeting-meeting conflicts with a meeting, let me know when you are free, because right now, your schedule looks completely blocked out. Are those all real meetings or fake meetings you scheduled in order to have some meeting-free time?
If you could free up one of your meeting-free hours, I’d appreciate it.
Thanks!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
CHAPTER 1, PART 1 -- A Journey of a Thousand Miles Starts With No One Caring That You Are About To Start a Journey Of A Thousand Miles
JIMMY’S DAY ONE -- Welcome To The Cube
Poor Jimmy, all alone in his cube, his first day at work, one worker in a building filled with a thousand, in a company of ten thousand, in a professional world of millions, as insignificant as one tiny ant in a colony, the smallest ant, the weakest ant, the ant least likely to succeed.
Pathetic, isn’t he? His white dress shirt too big in the shoulders, his tie poorly tied, his ill-fitting khaki pants sporting a logo with an anchor above the back pocket. Does he really expect anyone to take him seriously?
He’s fresh from business school, carrying a copy of his MBA in his leatherette briefcase. He got the job because of the degree, which happens to be from an Ivy League school. The company recruiter almost always hires the Ivy Leaguers, no matter how disappointing they look in person. Besides, as an assistant to the assistant account coordinator, the lowest rung on the corporate ladder, Jimmy couldn’t cause much harm.
Also, the recruiter gets a bonus when an open slot is filled within a week, so when she sees a candidate that seems to shower regularly and is smart enough to turn on his computer, she hires him. And thus, Jimmy is in his cube, staring at his computer screen, waiting for the blue loading screen to go away so he can start his first day.
He stands. He looks over the gray wall of his cube. He’s in the middle of a field of cubes, stretching to the horizon in every direction. His “welcomer” (a tired-looking woman from Human Resources who rattled off the company rules and regulations with an android’s monotone) said that more than 300 people work on his floor. He can hear them clacking on keyboards, occasionally coughing, sometimes mumbling, sometimes whispering, sometimes their phones ringing, but he can’t actually see one other living soul. He sits back down. The blue loading screen is still loading.
He exhales. He doesn’t know what to do. He looks at his phone, but it doesn’t ring, doesn’t offer a friendly voice telling him where to go or what to do. He doesn’t know where his boss, Dick, sits, or what his number might be. There isn’t a company directory in his cube. He should ask for one.
Yes, good, he thinks. He now has a reason to talk to one of his cube mates, break the ice a little by asking for some minor help. He straightens his tie, stands, adjusts his pants, tucks in his shirt. He glances at his computer. The blue loading screen still blinks at him.
He walks out of his cube, walks around its outside wall, and arrives at another opening where he does indeed find a human-like life form. The name tag outside the cube’s opening reads, “Bob.”
Inside, a plump man in a white shirt, khakis and poorly tied tie is whispering into a phone intently. His cube his filled with framed pictures of sports cars, sometimes on beaches, sometimes on race tracks, sometimes with bikini clad models sitting on the hoods.
“Bob likes cars,” Jimmy thinks. “That will give us something to talk about, maybe.”
Bob glances at Jimmy and doesn’t stop whispering into the phone. He says: “No. I said no. Not at all. No. I have to go. I said I have to go. No.”
Jimmy waves and smiles. Bob turns his back to Jimmy and stares at the framed picture of a red BMW M3 that’s next to his computer monitor. He continues into the phone: “Maybe. Well, no. Probably not. No. I really have to go.”
Jimmy breathes deep, in, then out, then he walks on.
Before he can get to the next cube and try again to make human contact, he hears a phone ring. Could it be his phone? It does seem to be coming from that direction. He trots around to his cube and sure enough, his phone his ringing, signaling the start of his workday, his new job and his new career.
He answers the phone as quick as he can grab it, just after the fourth ring, and hears nothing but a dial tone. He missed the call. The voice mail light lights, a dim red glow next to the caller ID window, which reads, “Dick Wadde.” His boss just called and he missed it, his new boss with the truly unfortunate name. He reminds himself not to even smile about it.
The computer’s blue loading screen has gone away, replaced by a box that wants a User ID and Password. No one gave Jimmy a user ID and password. Maybe that’s what his boss wanted, to give him his password, and maybe some direction on what he should be doing.
No one gave him instructions on how to get voice mail, so he can’t actually listen to the message his boss left him.
Jimmy sits. He looks at the empty gray walls of cube. He wishes he had pictures of cars to hang. He wishes someone would talk to him, tell him what to do, let him prove himself to be smart and capable and worthy of his paycheck.
He hears Dick’s voice, floating over the top of his cubes. He recognizes it from the job interview. Dick’s voice always seems to be booming, like his volume is turned up two notches higher than everyone else’s. He’s an assistant account representative, but he carries himself like a CEO who just got a pay raise.
“First day on the job and already I can’t find him,” Dick says. “Why is it not possible for us to hire good people?”
Dick appears in the doorway to Jimmy’s cube. Dick’s in a blue suit, well-tailored, with a bright red tie over a crisp white shirt. Dick looks like he’s running for president.
“There you are,” he says to Jimmy. “I thought you were all ready AWOL on me. You have everything you need?”
Jimmy stands.
“Well, not really,” Jimmy says. “I don’t have a password for the computer, or the voice mail. But I’m looking forward to starting work and I was wondering what projects you want me to start on. I’m really anxious to get going.”
“Yeah, we really need to talk about all that. Thing is, I have a meeting right now. What I want you to do is go back to Human Resources, find your welcomer, tell her she’s an idiot and she’s wasting your time and my time, and then tell her to get your computer and phone set up, and also, you’re going to need lots of legal pads and lots of pens. I hope you’re good at taking notes. I talk really fast.”
“Got it. I can do that. Thanks again for this opportunity.”
“Yeah. I gotta go. Glad to have you on board.”
Jimmy is about to extend his hand for a friendly and professional shake, but Dick has disappeared. Jimmy breathes, in, then out. He wonders who Dick was talking to before he reached his cube.
He realizes he has no idea where Human Resources is or how to find his welcomer. He feels helpless, abandoned, and that it’s his fault for not knowing what to do, what to ask, who to ask or how to ask.
He looks around his barren cube. There are still thumbtacks in the walls, where someone had posters or something pinned up. There is a coffee mug cast aside in one corner. It reads “Caffeine, alcohol, killing my boss…I’ll choose caffeine…for now.”
The pencil drawer in his desk is slightly ajar. He opens it and finds the items that seem to be in every pencil drawer everywhere in the universe, five paperclips, 36 cents in change, two rubber bands (one broken), two pencils, and an old business card.
He picks up the business card. It reads: “White Collar Warrior – In today’s corporate battlefield, you can be a general, with my help. Call…”
“Who was in this cube before me?” he wonders. “And where did he, or she, end up?”
END OF CHAPTER ONE, PART ONE
Poor Jimmy, all alone in his cube, his first day at work, one worker in a building filled with a thousand, in a company of ten thousand, in a professional world of millions, as insignificant as one tiny ant in a colony, the smallest ant, the weakest ant, the ant least likely to succeed.
Pathetic, isn’t he? His white dress shirt too big in the shoulders, his tie poorly tied, his ill-fitting khaki pants sporting a logo with an anchor above the back pocket. Does he really expect anyone to take him seriously?
He’s fresh from business school, carrying a copy of his MBA in his leatherette briefcase. He got the job because of the degree, which happens to be from an Ivy League school. The company recruiter almost always hires the Ivy Leaguers, no matter how disappointing they look in person. Besides, as an assistant to the assistant account coordinator, the lowest rung on the corporate ladder, Jimmy couldn’t cause much harm.
Also, the recruiter gets a bonus when an open slot is filled within a week, so when she sees a candidate that seems to shower regularly and is smart enough to turn on his computer, she hires him. And thus, Jimmy is in his cube, staring at his computer screen, waiting for the blue loading screen to go away so he can start his first day.
He stands. He looks over the gray wall of his cube. He’s in the middle of a field of cubes, stretching to the horizon in every direction. His “welcomer” (a tired-looking woman from Human Resources who rattled off the company rules and regulations with an android’s monotone) said that more than 300 people work on his floor. He can hear them clacking on keyboards, occasionally coughing, sometimes mumbling, sometimes whispering, sometimes their phones ringing, but he can’t actually see one other living soul. He sits back down. The blue loading screen is still loading.
He exhales. He doesn’t know what to do. He looks at his phone, but it doesn’t ring, doesn’t offer a friendly voice telling him where to go or what to do. He doesn’t know where his boss, Dick, sits, or what his number might be. There isn’t a company directory in his cube. He should ask for one.
Yes, good, he thinks. He now has a reason to talk to one of his cube mates, break the ice a little by asking for some minor help. He straightens his tie, stands, adjusts his pants, tucks in his shirt. He glances at his computer. The blue loading screen still blinks at him.
He walks out of his cube, walks around its outside wall, and arrives at another opening where he does indeed find a human-like life form. The name tag outside the cube’s opening reads, “Bob.”
Inside, a plump man in a white shirt, khakis and poorly tied tie is whispering into a phone intently. His cube his filled with framed pictures of sports cars, sometimes on beaches, sometimes on race tracks, sometimes with bikini clad models sitting on the hoods.
“Bob likes cars,” Jimmy thinks. “That will give us something to talk about, maybe.”
Bob glances at Jimmy and doesn’t stop whispering into the phone. He says: “No. I said no. Not at all. No. I have to go. I said I have to go. No.”
Jimmy waves and smiles. Bob turns his back to Jimmy and stares at the framed picture of a red BMW M3 that’s next to his computer monitor. He continues into the phone: “Maybe. Well, no. Probably not. No. I really have to go.”
Jimmy breathes deep, in, then out, then he walks on.
Before he can get to the next cube and try again to make human contact, he hears a phone ring. Could it be his phone? It does seem to be coming from that direction. He trots around to his cube and sure enough, his phone his ringing, signaling the start of his workday, his new job and his new career.
He answers the phone as quick as he can grab it, just after the fourth ring, and hears nothing but a dial tone. He missed the call. The voice mail light lights, a dim red glow next to the caller ID window, which reads, “Dick Wadde.” His boss just called and he missed it, his new boss with the truly unfortunate name. He reminds himself not to even smile about it.
The computer’s blue loading screen has gone away, replaced by a box that wants a User ID and Password. No one gave Jimmy a user ID and password. Maybe that’s what his boss wanted, to give him his password, and maybe some direction on what he should be doing.
No one gave him instructions on how to get voice mail, so he can’t actually listen to the message his boss left him.
Jimmy sits. He looks at the empty gray walls of cube. He wishes he had pictures of cars to hang. He wishes someone would talk to him, tell him what to do, let him prove himself to be smart and capable and worthy of his paycheck.
He hears Dick’s voice, floating over the top of his cubes. He recognizes it from the job interview. Dick’s voice always seems to be booming, like his volume is turned up two notches higher than everyone else’s. He’s an assistant account representative, but he carries himself like a CEO who just got a pay raise.
“First day on the job and already I can’t find him,” Dick says. “Why is it not possible for us to hire good people?”
Dick appears in the doorway to Jimmy’s cube. Dick’s in a blue suit, well-tailored, with a bright red tie over a crisp white shirt. Dick looks like he’s running for president.
“There you are,” he says to Jimmy. “I thought you were all ready AWOL on me. You have everything you need?”
Jimmy stands.
“Well, not really,” Jimmy says. “I don’t have a password for the computer, or the voice mail. But I’m looking forward to starting work and I was wondering what projects you want me to start on. I’m really anxious to get going.”
“Yeah, we really need to talk about all that. Thing is, I have a meeting right now. What I want you to do is go back to Human Resources, find your welcomer, tell her she’s an idiot and she’s wasting your time and my time, and then tell her to get your computer and phone set up, and also, you’re going to need lots of legal pads and lots of pens. I hope you’re good at taking notes. I talk really fast.”
“Got it. I can do that. Thanks again for this opportunity.”
“Yeah. I gotta go. Glad to have you on board.”
Jimmy is about to extend his hand for a friendly and professional shake, but Dick has disappeared. Jimmy breathes, in, then out. He wonders who Dick was talking to before he reached his cube.
He realizes he has no idea where Human Resources is or how to find his welcomer. He feels helpless, abandoned, and that it’s his fault for not knowing what to do, what to ask, who to ask or how to ask.
He looks around his barren cube. There are still thumbtacks in the walls, where someone had posters or something pinned up. There is a coffee mug cast aside in one corner. It reads “Caffeine, alcohol, killing my boss…I’ll choose caffeine…for now.”
The pencil drawer in his desk is slightly ajar. He opens it and finds the items that seem to be in every pencil drawer everywhere in the universe, five paperclips, 36 cents in change, two rubber bands (one broken), two pencils, and an old business card.
He picks up the business card. It reads: “White Collar Warrior – In today’s corporate battlefield, you can be a general, with my help. Call…”
“Who was in this cube before me?” he wonders. “And where did he, or she, end up?”
END OF CHAPTER ONE, PART ONE
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