Buying Borrowed Time

In the world of business and with the prophetic voice of Janet Jackson, "What have you done for me lately?" rings true. A body of work is remembered after the smoke has cleared from a career. But when the same career is active and in motion, the last thing accomplished is the first item in leadership's mind. If the last accomplishment grows more distant in the rear view mirror, the "do you have a minute?" talk closely follows. Lucky for me, my latest accomplishment bought me some borrowed time.

Excuse me, sir. When is my clock up?

My co-workers and I incubated a demo release for days. Okay, weeks. Okay, months. It has been incubating for so long I thought it would hatch on its own with ill regard for us. Leadership grew weary of our internal meetings. They needed external results. Something to hang their own hats on. Finally the product was ready, the waiting was over, the expectations were high, and the room for error was minimal. Pressure cooker. Deliver the product or receive a pink slip.

Sit back, relax your crack. I got this.

The demo went well. It went great. It went spectacular. If interested in the details, please send me an email request directly. I recommend reading through these details if you suffer from insomnia. By the second paragraph, the delta waves will flow in stage 3 NREM. Point is, the success of the demo bought me and my co-workers time. Our latest accomplishment is on the horizon. It will be a few days before it even transitions to the rear view mirror. I am living on borrowed time and loving the view.

You will read the first few lines--then POOF! Out like a light.

Hitting one out of the park is a nice feeling. A temporary comfort zone. The hard work, the late nights. All in an effort to identify and connect with the sweet spot. An effortless swing as the deliverable ascends beyond expectations and into the fanatic clutch of the client. I tell myself to enjoy the present. Remember this time. Take a deep breath. The ascension leads to the opposite. What goes up must come down. The euphoria gone and replaced by the anticipated deliverables pounding on the front door with a due date.

While leadership rides the wake of my recent efforts, I am taking off early on Friday. What have I done for them lately? A lot. Once the lollipops and rainbows wear off I will head into work early on Monday to avoid any "do you have a minute?" talks. Tomorrow, all I have is time. Monday, I don't have a minute. I don't even have a second. I am busy working on making someone else look good three months from now.

One Week, Six Pages

I have been wrangled into the middle of the storm. We have one week and six pages. The challenge: write a proposal section pregnant with promise that is confined to limited real estate. All while senior personnel use their competing voices and priorities to dictate inclusion and exclusion criteria. It's an official shit show. After this stint, I am adding, "wordsmithing peacemaker" to my resume.

Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt the...
Oh fuck it, I always sucked at proposals.

It started with an outline [It always starts with an outline.] Find the story before telling it. Define the flow and narrative. So many opinions, so little time. Punch them in the mouth with their key challenge on the opener, it will help them to understand we know their problem. Start out with our experience, it will help them know we can do the job. Begin with the "how", it will help them realize we have a process to solve their issue. No one is on the same page. At this point, no one is even in the same library and I have yet to write a single word.

You and me? Yeah, we're writing this together.
Whether you like it or not.

I would have written less but I did not have enough time. God bless you Mark Twain, now I understand. With brute force mentality, I power through the first draft and fasten my seatbelt for the next meeting. Without surprise, the latest version is torn from limb-to-limb by the angry mob of editors. "Weak intro", "It doesn't speak to the statement of work", "Too long", "I hate you."

There's the author. Get him!

We play 52 pickup with the table of contents. Another outline, another write-up. It might be saved as "V.2" but when considering everyone's input, "V.26" is more apropos. A frenzied email string reveals all the current holes. Everyone implores that a meeting is vital to the success of this piece. A meeting is scheduled with numerous personnel from multiple skill sets for balanced input. One person shows up. One person gives feedback. With this one voice I find the next rewrite much easier to tackle. Except everyone who was unable to attend the meeting now has a delayed opinion.

Entertaining drastic edits while in the actual process of writing is impossible. It's like participating in an episode of Jeopardy! with an air horn blasting in your ear. That is it, going offline. My whereabouts moved from "Do Not Disturb" to "Try and Find Me". Off the grid of connectivity. Alone with my thoughts. Churn and burn those thoughts into words.

Has anyone seen Corporate Joe?

Next draft, next meeting. The imminent deadline staring back at us. Hints of consensus. A narrative is beginning to take shape. Still pushing. A few sticky points for inclusion. Almost there. Rewrite. Review. Rewrite. Review. Done! Except it is nine pages. Three pages over the limit. Time to be a heartless surgeon.

The editing room floor is riddled with half-baked ideas and run-on sentences. Too detailed, gone. Too broad of a stroke, see-ya. Great sentence with no substance, bye-bye. I am drunk with power. The tables have turned. This indentured servant now owns the estate. Each stroke of my red pen more empowering. Who are we kidding with Figure 1.2.5-7a.i!?! My kid draws better process flows with his Crayolas. Table 3, puh-leaze. That 7 point Arial font makes it look like a nest of indecipherable ink. Here is some advice, have a point.

This shit has got to go.

Final review. The smoke has cleared and the crying has stopped. The group accepts my aggressive, inevitable, and necessary edits. Then we hear back from the solicitor. They would like us to explore this section more and we can expand. I have to hand back the keys to the castle. Hero to Zero. It was fun to be in charge for a bit. Now I have to shut-up and listen all over again.

Open Office, Closed Mind

The open office space concept has kicked it with the crossover. The design has transcended its Silicon Valley roots and reached into more traditional institutions. The latest adopter[victim] is Citigroup. In its new Manhattan office, not even the CEO will have a door. The supposed benefits are touted as work related. The sentinel effect: a boss can keep his eyes on the workforce. Productivity and favorable outcomes increase when one is being watched. Busy-ness: a bustling workplace that makes each employee feel like they are a part of something bigger than themselves. Increased collaboration among co-workers. Egalitarianism: a removed hierarchy that flattens out any org chart. We are all in charge. Oh, and money. Saving money to be specific. Loads of it.

Trust me kid, Bluestar is going to love this new floor plan.

Companies are saving coin, some in the millions, with unassigned and open seating arrangements. If everything is equal, fighting for an office is no longer an option. No need to configure space when a grid will do. Same design, limited materials, and a uniform layout for everyone. Companies can adapt to explosive growth without having to pay significant expansion costs related to rent and utility bills. Packing in the masses trumps breathing room. If future quarters look promising, rent out another floor and create another grid. Most employees do not like the open office and the amount of reasons why are astounding. I live with it when I visit the office. Based on experience, open floor plans should be as dead as the Dodo bird.

Love the layout. When can we build the real thing?

The supposed benefits are greatly out-of-sync with the reality. For the sentinel effect, I cannot work when I am being watched. I am an introvert by nature. The big brother setup induces anxiety, not productivity. When I arrive, when I leave, how many Flaming Moe's I drank. All are being monitored. Solution: when the boss might be looking, look busy. There are several techniques I recommend with optimal results. While reading through a random deliverable, bite the end of a pencil and then tap it on the egalitarian table top. Open an excel spreadsheet with numerous macros and formulas that perform calculations in endless loops. Swivel your head from hard copy deliverable to the screen of macros. Bite and tap the pencil at well-timed intervals. Nothing is getting done and something is happening at the same time. The environment creates a setup to look busy rather than to be busy. Productivity appearance up, productivity numbers down.

Drop off the guns, pick up my brother at the hospital,
stir the sauce, don't call from the house, get arrested by the Feds.

Get together! Shoot some ideas around! The workplace is buzzing with activities! None of these are true--at all. When privacy is physically taken away, personal walls can be created through other means. A forced community feel is battled with Beats, Bose, Skull Candy and shooting range earmuffs. There is a staggering reduction in eye contact. Phone conversations are now conducted through hushed toned headsets. All of these are non-verbal cues indicating people will fight for every ounce of their privacy in a public space. The only buzz generated is from the fluorescent lighting. The outcome is counter-intuitive. Human interaction replaced by silence. The noise level of our office rivals that of a sign language convention.

Please, whatever you do, don't talk to me.

I work. My company pays me well. If the open concept saves the company money, I'm down with it. My problem is hiding the motive of savings under the guise of a company's emotional well-being. Please do not spread shit on my sandwich and tell me it is apple butter. I know what you are selling. Tell me the truth. I will respect you even if I disagree.

Corporate Joe in open space land? No thanks--"cubicle land" is better. Both in title and in practice.

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.

iPhony Plan

Within my company, managers are highly encouraged to have a company iPhone. Not a requirement, but definitely a strong suggestion. A suggestion that I ignore. When cornered, my answer is “Freedom Ain’t Free, Brother” followed by a shotgun blast in the air while enjoying a fresh dip of Copenhagen. Yes, the phone and data usage are paid for. But that payment comes with a cost. The ability to check your email. The ability to know whether or not you are checking your email. The ability to know whether or not you are checking porn. Or for those who are really ambitious, actually making your own porn film. It is all on the phone. Connectivity and traceability.

So you're saying we have to delete some footage from our phones?

Most employees submit due to the financial and portable convenience. Financially, the activity is covered. It is a significant savings per month to many of the ascending managers looking to minimize their expenses while maximizing their 401K’s. Portability is more con than pro to me. The definition of convenience is tricky. The great news is that it enables an employee to check email from wherever they are. The bad news is that it enables an employee to check email from wherever they are. A slippery slope that I refuse to engage in.

Call me anytime, pal. Money never sleeps and neither do I.

Convenience is the item that closes the deal. A portable electronic device is now at a manager’s disposal. Email is the driver. Check for new email. Read new email. Send new email. An open door for communication that never closes. Forget the door, it has been removed from the hinges and run through a wood-chipper. It is an open tunnel that keeps an employee a few keystrokes away from making a co-worker connection. No thank you.

Can we close this communication portal?
It's creating a draft on my personal life.

Never turning off work inadvertently co-mingles initiatives that can cause a person to short circuit. Making fish sticks and tater tots for the kids while trying to actively increase the latest profit margins is unattainable. It surpasses ‘not easy’ and flirts with impossible. The American business culture is fascinated with multi-tasking. It is a mythical standard many aspire to and fail. The promotion of an iPhone with access to the company server solidifies this myth.

Doing one thing excellent with singular focus is better than doing multiple things at once with ordinary results. Chipotle does burritos. A few select meats, combined with some veggies, beans and rice. Then end it with edible and attractive accoutrements. In the end, you have a great lunch. Golden Corral does everything. A multitude of fruits covered in a film of pesticide. Then combine it with a cornucopia of meats and cheeses that turns a colon into a pipe jammed with wet newspaper. Then end it with a chocolate fountain to run all your insecurities through. On the surface, it appears everything is to be had and in the end nothing is achieved. The buffet is swimming in a sea of below average.

Everyone back away from the buffet!
I have something we all can eat.

So shove it with the free phone plan. I may not check my email all the time, I may not be accessible in the wee hours of the morning. But when you see me online, I am accountable, I am a force to be reckoned with. And when I am offline, well, I am making my porn film on my personal iPhone.

Visionary Evasion

Innovation is the pipeline to new work. Visionaries use innovation to transcend day-to-day business operations. It allows them to capture a glimpse of what can be done if we dare to imagine. Visionaries push beyond an inbox. They harness their brainpower and pioneer into new intellectual territories of their respective fields. However, when it comes to real work, visionaries are useless as a screen door on a submarine. They evade the day-to-day work because they don’t understand it in the first place. A visionary double downs on this lack of everyday knowledge by requesting a brainstorming session.

It's a little clunky for a prototype. But give me 30 years and I think I have something.

A visionary’s “vision” often originates from an amalgamation of their subordinates’ ideas. Being a leader has its benefits. One of the benefits is co-opting a respective team’s intelligentsia and packaging it as their own. “Everyone get together and brainstorm.” is a euphemism for, “Let me cherry-pick the best ideas and put my name on it.” Meanwhile, in business land, deliverables are piling up and deadlines are fast approaching.

You are full of ideas today. Tell me more.

Those doing actual work are the lifeblood of the project. The contract survives on their activity. Current performance is a strong indicator of future wins. The client depends on the deliverables promised. Visionaries piggy back off this sweat equity to take a leap of business faith into the future. It is necessary. It is the nature of business. Innovate or perish. But sometimes it is relied on so heavily that the current engine running on the ground floor is dismissed for a blueprint in the executive’s office.

Not trying to be a wet blanket but these plans seem like an awful idea.

The visionary pulls a Chauncey Gardiner by presenting the malleable blueprint. An unformed blueprint hijacked from the collective brainpower of lower level employees. With style and panache, the visionary completes a tight wire act. The laconic delivery is misinterpreted as wisdom when in fact is used for disguising an impostor. The client is both charmed and convinced of the idea. It goes off without a hitch.  It should make my blood boil, but it takes guts for the visionary to put themselves out there. It also holds the promise of future work. Day to day work. My work. Meh, job security.


Business is a state of mind.

Disjointed Author

I was struck by a new business idea that had substance. This occurs when I sense a waning relevance of my place in the working world. It buys me time. Before I release my idea into the ether I need a sounding board. I have to get the idea out of my head in an ugly auditory first draft. At this point I need a trusted co-worker. One who can listen, be direct, and determine if my idea has weight. Unfortunately, my idea went viral. I should be flattered but instead it makes me realize that in an instant, the idea is no longer mine to control.

One co-worker. A trusted co-worker. One meeting maker. One invite. Solidify the idea: repurposing of documentation and processes, efficiency, dollars saved. The brainstorming session will help calcify the thought. Shape it, hone it and then express its essence in a clear manner to a higher pay grade. I won't crumble in the cross-examination. Once that happens, it will be easy to get others on board. Except others are already on board.

Last time I confide in this guy about a conference call.

My trusted co-worker forwarded the meeting maker. And then it was forwarded again. Some of the individuals joining the call I have not even met. A snowball effect outpacing the architecture of my original thought. People will expect my idea to be equivalent to a polished version of "Ocean's Eleven" and they're going to get the original instead.

Which one of us should kick Corporate Joe's ass?

The call is scheduled for 60 minutes and starts on time. I begin with an early draft of the idea, the stakeholders, who benefits and why. My disclaimer quickly follows. Please folks, keep in mind this idea is in its infancy. I control the floor and the narrative....for about three minutes. The fact that I am speaking does not mean the other side of the line is listening. It is faux courtesy. An informal protocol to allow me a brief sense of ownership before the predators pounce. I am a wildebeest with a broken leg and the herd has left me. Fresh meat on the Serengeti.

Okay, hold on. One question at a time folks.

Who will be involved? What about this? Where are the savings? When will this happen? Why haven't we started yet? How long will this take? It is the cross-examination and I am folding like a brand new textbook. Forget the disclaimer. Those brief moments of joy when the idea hit me will now be replaced by the months long anguish of implementing the idea itself. I created my own job security along with my own living hell.

Out of Office. Out of Job?

I am at the beach using my vacation days for actual vacation. Finally, I have the chance to test the durability of my customized east coast shark tank. Whatever the excursion, taking time off must always have a corresponding out of office plan. Rest and relaxation without guilt or worry is true job security. Part of maintaining that security is having all my ducks in a row before I leave. The stronger my out of office plan, the more I can enjoy the vacation itself. The office building won’t survive without me. At least that’s what I thought before I left.

I’m trying to relax, honey. I just have this sinking feeling.

The crux of coverage is to develop a multi-diversified package. Divvy up responsibility among several peers instead of putting all the eggs in one basket. The other pivotal piece is to balance the release of information. Provide enough institutional knowledge to hold the fort and withhold enough to maintain job relevance. The coda for coverage is the out of office email --- a well-crafted reminder for others that I am not around.


All play and no work means leave me alone.

For an overwhelming majority of the time, the email notification can take care of any further contact. A shot across the bow indicating that whatever is of concern can wait. This is reinforced through a supporting work voicemail. A unified communication front indicating my services have been disseminated and are unavailable for the commands of superiors. Despite the most exhaustive efforts to cover the bases, there is the inevitable phone call.

I should probably get that.

The mobile phone has disintegrated all communication barriers for the last 15 years of the business world. It makes you accessible regardless of location. Every email signature is expected to have a cell number. It is inevitable that cell will.....RING. The number is from a co-worker. RING. It is someone who is responsible for a piece of my job. RING. I wrote out a procedure incorrectly. RING. I forgot to carry the “1” in a comp calculation. RING. Our data has been hacked by narco-terrorists and held for ransom in exchange for the release of multiple drug king-pins. RING. Just answer the damn phone.

This better be good. It can’t hurt my career.

I hit "Answer" and prepare for the horrible news...

My co-worker wants to know if I left for lunch yet. Her and several other peers are hitting a new Thai place around the corner. They forgot I was even out of town. The conversation closes with a curt, “See you when you get back to the office.” The absence of being essential hits harder than the imaginary work crisis. What was not stated on the phone speaks volumes about my future.  I’m not that important anymore. Maybe I never was. This vacation has been extended for another week.


Hey guys, I’m back! Guys?

Hold Fast to Your Dreams (unless it's this one)

It is the last day of school. I sprint in the hallway, classroom to classroom. I cup my hands into makeshift binoculars and peer through the wire glass window frames of each door. Inside each class, students are seated in an orderly fashion as the professor hands out a test. I survey the faces. No one is familiar. I don’t even know what test I am supposed to take. The hallway lengthens and the classrooms multiply. I am trapped in the equivalent of an M.C. Escher painting. This final test is do or die. The sprint and stare technique continues to the next classroom and then I wake up. This is the reoccurring nightmare when stress enters my life.

I understand you skipped the final exam.

Please, sit. Let's talk probation options.

The last classroom setting I attended was 20+ years ago yet the dream remains embedded in my subconscious. Instead of classroom consequences, this dream is now a metaphor to homework in the real world. In this particular case, it is a project management delivery schedule that will align personnel to specific assignments. How could I forget this test?

Something tells me if I do remember, I ‘m shit out of luck.

Ahhh yes, build a cross-sectional team for a nebulous end-product where multiple personnel provide minimal support to an overall objective. Ugh, it’s all coming back to me now like bad Indian food. The problem with this initiative is diluted responsibilities. The sum is greater than its parts but in this case, the parts are falling apart. The number of colleagues to contribute to the workload outweighs the actual amount of work to be done. This minimal support lowers the liability of each person. This results in the easy homework being pushed aside, or into the trash can. There are bigger deliverables out there to be addressed. Deliverables directly tied to reputations. When my deliverable is compartmentalized there are no repercussions to the individuals for not completing the assignment. When my deliverable is viewed as a whole, it is directly tied to my reputation. Repercussions indeed. The meeting is on.

Tell me about your billable hours for this project!

This meeting is the opposite of my dream. I know exactly who I report to, where I report to and what is expected of me. There is no stock footage alarm clock scene to save me in this circumstance. The anxiety level is palpable. It is time for a mental rolodex review of my excuses as a last ditch effort. 'Competing priorities' is always a good one. 'Need to pick your brain a little more' has a hint of reverence. 'My African pygmy hedgehog had eye surgery' neutralizes authority with surprise. Oh well, I’m screwed. I had a nice run, time to take my medicine.

Before I say a word, the issue is resolved. I am saved. I am informed the contract has been placed on a no-cost performance extension. This is not a free male enhancement pill. It is when funds remain in the contract and work will continue beyond the original end date. My dilemma resolved by deus ex machina. I can hold off my reoccurring nightmare for at least another month. Time for lunch.

Saved your ass. Now run to Chipotle!

Short-Lived Legacy

Managing work and doing work. Each is unique. But there are brief periods of time when they actually intersect. Particularly in the case when a manager must transition processes for production at lower levels. Give the lower paygrade an early win. It’s another notch on the evaluation belt of a subordinate. It’s also one item subtracted from the manager.

The work has to find a new home. Unlike Wheel of Fortune, we cannot do the same thing over and over.

We're going to ignore that low-blow,

think about our paychecks, and smile.

The manager creates an efficient way to complete a repetitive process. After that, give it to someone else. Simple. Except there are three reasons for my reservations about the passing of the torch.

1. Control Freak - What if they do it wrong?
Legacies are built from CEOs and successful entrepreneurs. These positions hone the power to craft a business swan song. Legacies are not built for middle-management. It hones the power to hand shit off. This limited influence leads to complete control of the final product. Giving the repetitive deliverable to someone else often proves tougher than expected. No matter how specific the instructions, a hiccup will slip in and re-engineer the process.

The paper clip always faces due south after collation.

2. Eat Humble Pie - What if they make it look easy?
My control freak concern subsides when I realize the processes are being placed in capable hands. Maybe too capable. We can bitch all we want about the younger generation. The hard lesson is that the smartest ones figure it out faster and make it better. What I took so long to build into a manual routine the millennials can automate without breaking a sweat.

I took your rickshaw and made it into a rocket. Hope you don’t mind.

3. Planned Obsolescence - What if I have nothing left to do?
Great, I’m handing off so much work that I have none for myself. It can result in an empty performance review. “What did you do?”, “Ohhhh, I gave away the store and engineered myself out of a job.” Once you run out of work you’re either fired or labeled as a thought leader. I’m not sure which is worse.

A thought leader is that crazy uncle you see on holidays. You don't know when, but eventually he's going to say something certifiable. It’s hard to find out who you are once you’ve outsourced all of the materials that provided a small but solidified place in the corporate ladder. If I want to be a thought leader I have to start making up stuff up. Abstract shit that Mensa would have to Google. Crazy uncle time.

I’m here to talk to you about the Overthruster method. Listen carefully!

The trick is to create a concept so absurd that the highest level of leadership is convinced it must be too great to ignore. Eventually, I’ll be found out, but at least it buys enough time to look for a new job.
 

Talk is cheap and so is the phone

My company is switching from a traditional telephone service to a Unified Communication (UC) solution. For internal communications, the UC solution is all the rage. Easier accessibility and dual connection avenues (i.e., IM and VoIP) can curb or eliminate the need for traditional phone services, email traffic and even travel. The introduction of a UC approach is to reduce the cost of doing business. The idea sounds great. It’s the sound itself that is the problem.

           You know you make me                   I'm sorry,

               want to SHOUT!                     can you repeat that?

 

The transition to the UC has been piecemeal. First: a suggestion. Second: a toothless policy. Third: an administrative rule. Our traditional telephone charges started with scrutiny and have ended with declined expenses. I accept this; change is the constant. But it has been challenging to adopt this latest technical push for integrated voice. I would be an early adopter if the transition was seamless and the product superior. However, this arrangement makes me feel like a beta tester. Our UC solution has a variety of options for connecting with co-workers and I have experienced hiccups with most of them.

Okay! Okay! We'll remove you from the test team.

There are complications before even joining a call. The conference IDs are ten digits long, the same length as a phone number. That is a problem. To avoid confusion between the dial-in number and the conference ID, the UC solution removed the dashes from the conference ID. Still a problem. It may look different but it is harder to memorize.

Dashes displayed within the phone number layout make them easier to read and recall. Human vision can process three and four number groupings more easily and put them to memory. A ten digit number is challenging. Instead of referencing the conference ID to access the call, I find myself looking back and forth, repeating the numbers out loud and then cursing when my access is denied. That denial is a blessing in disguise. A less appealing circumstance is actually entering the call and hearing the Theremin effect.

These vibrations don't feel so good.

You have made it to the call! Time to enter another dimension of auditory distortion created by The Art of Noise - - while on acid. What Ed Wood did for movies, the UC does for sound: voice echoes, bouncing reverb and high-pitched feedback. The conversation ends up being a discord of bings, bongs, beeps and boops that could make Lil Wayne’s grill dance. It doesn’t sound like cost savings to me. It sounds like a vacuum of money flying out the door. The idea of the technology has outpaced its reality. And both are in a forced marriage despite the absence of synchronicity.

This even sounds weird to me

I want to pick up the phone, dial and talk. Does each advance in technology mean we have to adopt it? Philip K. Dick could have easily made the UC solution into a novella. In the interest of cost-cutting and adopting all forms of technologies we sometimes lose sight of the original business purpose. The bigger promise of technology lends it an unwarranted long leash which is rarely reined in. All this progress makes me want to go back to a simpler time, a time when I could dream of my virtual vacation memories on Mars.

Get me off of this call and back on vacation!

Fat Ass on Fitbit

The latest emphasis at our company has been individual health and its contribution to corporate wellness. The underlying belief of this approach is that happy and healthy employees contribute to the bottom line. As with anything corporate, there must be metrics on success and failure. In terms of health, it can be measured by a wrist band that counts your steps. The Fitbit craze has kicked it with the crossover to Corporate America. In our company, personal health has translated into competition. What started as personal improvement has mutated into how an employee can beat their fellow colleague.

The idea itself is great. Monitor your own activity and shoot for personal records. An individual can actively audit their exercise levels and determine whether it is increasing, decreasing or maintaining at their own status quo. There are numerous metrics: steps, distance, floors climbed and calories burned. It even monitors your sleep patterns (or lack thereof.) The metrics are gentle reminders to get off the couch. The “Friends” option on the Fitbit setup is what introduces the rub. Tracking one’s own activity is fine. The problem is being coerced into supposed friendly corporate competition. Now my activity is viewable by others. Everyone into the pool, except this pool has sharks and I’m wearing a chum jacket.

Expected appearance based on steps.

All bets are off once overachieving, Type-A executives are introduced. They must excel at everything, and at any cost, including cheating. Fitbit is the perfect storm for them to succeed. It is an electronic dashboard that vindicates their level of exercise without having to directly account for it. When you are an overachieving sycophant executive, fitness is a luxury that few can afford. Exercise requires time and for the exec working 15 hours a day, time is scarce. What to do? There is no room for average. They have to game the system to be on top. This is evident when the total steps of top performers are disproportionate to their physical appearance.

Actual appearance based on Fitbit outsourcing.

Numbers may not lie but body mass definitely tells the truth. The top performers are often in shape…of a pear. Maybe they handed the Fitbit to their spouse and added it to the Honey Do list. Or they placed it under the sweatband of their overachieving child on the travel soccer team. Whatever the modus operandi, it is an obvious lie when comparing measured steps to body type.

Run, Levi, Run! Good dog.

It is hard to grin and bear it. Watching the highest echelon of the company smile at their empty victory while the expanding notches on their belt tell the real story of what transpired. Rather than sit on the sidelines I do my best to actively participate. Not in exercising but in cheating. I outsourced my Fitbit. It is on the collar of an Australian Shepherd named Levi. She works on a farm. Busy girl. Loves to run. She’s pushed me all the way to third place. Good dog.

The War On Talent

The unemployment rate coupled with the overeducated graduates of the world has started an interesting battle. The War on Talent is waged with finding the cream of the crop candidates. It is followed by promising them the moon. The final step is working their exempt ass so much that their hourly rate translates into minimum wage.

The War on Talent is born in the boardroom. Each silver spooned executive pushing their own alma mater. This usually consists of Ivy League and other regionally convenient top tier schools. They delegate the initiative to Talent Managers within the company who schedule the lifecycle of recruiting. It originates with a phone call, escalates to a campus interview, and culminates to an onsite in the lion’s den.

Mortimer, time to find some new candidates.

Soon to be graduates are weeded out in a pre-screening phone interview. This involves some background on the company, providing info on the position itself along with softball questions like, “Can you spell the name of our company” and “Tell me about your experience in retail?” The first question alone weeds out about 90% of the candidates. Think I’m kidding? You try spelling, “Takanami Hashimoto Consulting.”
 
The pruning continues in the form of face to face campus interviews. Personnel already head to their respective campuses and wear the recruiter hat for the trip. It gives them a reason to leave behind their spouses in exchange for young, spry co-eds. It is also a power trip. These same recruiters who were the victims of fraternity pranks now walk the campus in a power suit. And those same fraternities will be groveling at their feet for a job. The candidates need approval from the recruiters in order to proceed to the promise land.
 
The recruiters go through a marathon of interviews with all available candidates. They gather their notes and then decide who makes the first cut. For those candidates who showed up late, were chewing gum, or smelled like the inside of a bong: bye-bye. Easy decisions for the recruiters and also a way for them to score weed.  The next tier is filled with candidates that everyone liked or had strong references but whose accomplishments were related to how long they were able to stay away from home without crying. Good, not good enough: bye-bye. And then there are the A-listers: candidates who happen to be doing real work in college, have a solid internal recommendation, and shine in the interview. Polished and seasoned like a second chair in the National Symphony. The promise land, almost there.
 
The respective company pulls out all the stops for the on-site. The candidates are possibly entering their new home. They are being taken off their campus and placed in the lion’s den. No expense spared: boardroom is reserved, catering is provided, and the bathrooms are finally cleaned. Each candidate enters with wide eyes channeling the same uncertainty as a newborn trying to walk. It’s really happening. The last set of interviews is the final cut. The pruning hedges have turned into a machete. A one shot tryout where the slightest gesture, mannerism or word could put you in the outbox.

 

Yes, I'm here for the interview.

It’s a grind: detailed questions requiring detailed answers. Questions that prod at different angles involving behavior based traits, analytical capabilities, creative outlets and your favorite white-collar criminal. No one cares what the candidate has done at this point. It’s what can they do and how they will do it.

And if the candidate makes it through that final hoop, they are hired. Congratulations, you can now change the world. But first, let’s change the toner.