Turkey Work Weak

For those poor souls employed in retail and awaiting their fate on Black Friday, please skip this article and God Speed. Next year, go on strike.

 

Thanksgiving poses a conundrum for the majority of employers with white collar personnel: the 3-day work week. On paper, three days looks like enough to make a dent in the inbox. In reality, things end before they start. What can be pushed off until Thursday or Friday in a normal work week is either dealt with on the spot or transitioned to the next Monday. The former is ambitious, the latter more likely.

Dude, that shit can wait until Monday.

Many people decide to take the entire week off for Thanksgiving. Flying out of town to see relatives or waiting for relatives to fly in. Shopping, alcohol, turkey, football, octogenarians asking, “What did she say?” and alcohol. For the record, I love Thanksgiving. Rushed after Halloween and eclipsed by Christmas, it’s the middle child holiday. Often discounted, but upon arrival, you realize how much fun it is when you pay attention to it.

Christmas! Christmas! Christmas!

Okay, maybe it’s not worth a week off. Many co-workers feel the same. It’s a 50/50 split on vacation. Half are in the office and the other half on vacation. Work energy begets work energy. When colleagues are not around to add energy, my get up and go is replaced by sit down and eat. This behavior is enabled by the out-of-towners. The less work I push their way, the more I will be appreciated upon their return. The lower the workload, the easier it is for everyone to transition back to a 5-day grind. Wednesday, one meeting: 30-minutes in the AM. Then the schedule is wide open for me to hammer my inbox before the holiday kicks in. I could document an updated process, tighten up some standard operating procedures, and review the latest analytical output that needs further research. All of these sit and wait for my action. I am the catalyst. Potential energy waiting to turn kinetic.

Don't even get me started.

If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Better yet, if an employee sits at his desk and no one is around to see it, does he complete any assigned work items? No, no he doesn’t. Enjoy your Thanksgiving.

Tech-Shabby

Technology advances at a blistering pace that appears unsustainable. At the same time, it constantly eclipses itself with new releases to reset another bar of achievement. The following items are less than a decade old with mainstream usage: Xbox 360 (2005), the iPhone (2007), Facebook (explosive growth in 2006), Hulu (2007), and Netflix streaming (2008). The same holds true for computers. Within the short span of five years my laptop morphed into a relic. The IT Service Department made the call. They notified me of the imminent license expiration of my Dell. Not a list I want to be on. It was time to let go and embrace the future.

You don't even want to know who else is on the list with you.

I set the appointment for noon and arrived at the IT desk with my antique. It was heavy, had five years worth of data on it and it broke my heart to let go. Not for sentimental reasons. Rather due to the reluctance of embracing new technology. Some people are early adopters, I am a laggard clasper. The weight of my laptop, the familiarity of the keys and the intuitive navigation I had organized on my desktop--gone with one upgrade. All replaced with something sleeker, lighter and more advanced. I viewed the whole transaction with a Philip K. Dick level of suspicion.

Would you relax and hand it over. It's just a laptop. Trust me!

The HelpDesk viewed my computer with the same amount of suspicion I had dropping it off. I could see the nonplussed look on the technician's face as if to say, "How did you get away with having something this old?" I ignored the look and asked about the turn-around time. The benchmark is three hours. Worst case, four. Off to lunch.

After several beers and a nap in the quiet room I checked back at 3PM. The IT Desk reviewed the progress to indicate the transfer was halfway through. My shiny new toy was sitting in the corner, being charged with life and information while my old computer was being sucked dry and made obsolete. One generation feeding the next. I couldn't bear to watch. I'll pick it up Monday.

These computers are made from computers. You've got to tell them.

Monday morning, new computer! I cannot even figure out how to login. I grudgingly ask a millennial who hits the screen and points to the login area. Touch screen? Witchcraft! I felt like an uncool 80's parent asking their child to change the time on the VCR. Touch screen is just the beginning. Next is remapping my brain with the cosmetics and layout. Nothing looks as it did before and everything is in a new place. A double whammy that causes my Monday morning productivity to plummet. I call it a loss and head home early on Metro. Goodbye for now technology. You're a dynamic, fluctuating twist of wires, memory and data. I'll catch up tomorrow. For tonight, my geriatric blues are staging a "Golden Girls" DVD marathon. 

Technology went and got itself in a big damn hurry.

New Blood Has Me Boiling

I had a meeting this week with a new co-worker labeled a "Rising Star" by leadership. A real "go-getter." The future "Golden Child" of the project. It makes me want to "throw up." Sorry, quotes were stuck. It makes me want to throw up. Unwittingly, leadership has now infused this individual with equal parts purpose and self-importance. I enjoy listening to tenured personnel with singular insight and expertise. However, a plebe trying to kick knowledge without a foundation is revolting. It is the equivalent of shooting a cannon out of a canoe. If you try big things without a strong base and proper footing, everything falls apart--fast.

A lot of people are telling me I'm pretty important.

Prior to the meeting, I assembled materials on the subject matter to bring the rising star up to speed. It included a summarized version of all the documentation I had accrued over the years. The session was geared towards me talking and the go-getter listening. It worked well, for the first five minutes. He stopped the conversation. Which I made clear was okay. Any questions along the way, please interrupt. Except there was no question, it was advice. My facial expression indicated I was not asking for counsel.

You disloyal, fool-ass, bitch-made punk.

To be clear, this is a process I am handing over for production at a lower level. Specifically, my co-worker's level. This item is based on a work product with a solid track record. It is proven, sustainable, and durable. It is quickly put under the gun by someone not proven, testing their sustainability, and we will see how durable they are once responsibility is assumed. 

You are currently at a set of steak knives, don't make it worse.

To be blunt, the "advice" stunk. It is easy to ask big questions in order to sound smart. It is fun to respond to those same questions to reveal the stupidity of it. This is not a back and forth brainstorming session. It is not open dialogue. It is listening to what I have to say and asking questions as we go.

Leadership followed up with me after the meeting. "Isn't he great!", "We are so excited to have him on the team.", "He is our special snowflake that we will simultaneously enable and coddle." Okay, so I made that last one up. But it is not too far from reality. My frustrations were at the brim. I did what any well-seasoned veteran would do, I lied, "Yes, you were right, he is great." Let the newbie figure out the hard way that work comes first. Do the work accurately and efficiently to gain the trust of your team. After that, knowledge naturally follows. 

For now, he will be shoveling buckets of water out of his canoe. 

I knew I should have listened.