Wednesday, February 28, 2007

All I Need To Know About Politics I Learned At The Movies.

One of my favorite movie scenes comes from the Mel Gibson version of "Maverick."

He explains that when sitting in on an unknown table of people in poker, he plays a patsy and purposely looses for the first half hour or so. While the game progresses he watches for "tells," or unconscious body signals people give based on the hand they have been dealt. Once he is certain he has everybody's "tells" figured out, he uses the information to clean up the competition for the rest of the game.

Whenever I start a new job or new work environment, I go out of my way to be an over-zealous eager-beaver skippy-scout yes-man. I go to great lengths to help other people out with their workloads, obey all the rules, follow orders with exactness, the works. While I may do this to contribute to the company's success, I never really expect any company credit for it -- companies rarely give it when it's earned.

The real reason I play that game is to watch other people's reactions to what I do. People who come to me and tell me to slow down and stop making them look bad are the ones I can automatically peg as losers and punks, who I can expect to cut my throat any minute they feel it suits them. The people who never give me thanks for the help are the ones I know will always look out for themselves, at the expense of others.

Being over-eager also helps me to find out what all the hidden rules are, because the really nice people fill me in on all the hidden rules, office gossip, and potential pitfalls in the workplace landscape. The really nice people will often volunteer to return favors for the help I give them, whereas the crappy people won't spare a minute to give me the time of day. The crappy people will purposely wait until I break a rule in my eagerness, then chew me out for it, walking away afterward with a smug air of superiority. Little do they know that I am reading them like a book, and sharpening my political knives while I do so.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Emperor's New Clothes.

This entry is a post-script to the previous one.

There's a certain manager at "Big Red" where I work. He used to work for "Big Blue." He grew tired of being passed over for promotions and going for long periods of time without a raise or positive performance review, and he grew tired of certain corrupt practices that were business-as-usual. He got tired of the heavy amounts of overtime. Finally, he walked. He had spoken to the people at "Big Red," they made him an offer he couldn't refuse, and he left "Big Blue."

Yesterday it became clear to me just how cushy his new deal was. When I complained to him about a certain arbitrary, non-corporate sanctioned policy enforced by the micro-managing "logistics leader," he chastised me about how necessary the rule was, and how dare I question it. Keep in mind this is what I term an "L.S.D. rule," meaning something that only someone on LSD could come up with and seriously expect others to follow.

Here I was, the only person in the joint with courage enough to point out that the emperor has no clothes on (if you remember the old Danish fairy-tale), and it dawns on me that this guy was totally serious in his support of something completely asinine. I thought to myself "dude, you have been bought....bought like a discount courtesan in a Bangkok red-light district."

Everyone has their price I suppose, but I believe mine is much, much higher than his.

"Ok, um, after you push the down switch...then what?"

Yesterday's post about "information management" was a satire upon people who have a hysterically anal need to control the flow of information and access in a work environment. I made that post to set the stage for today's post.

I found out yesterday, after the fact as is usually the case in most work environments, I had broken a rule. It seems that my efforts to be helpful and be a good team member don't amount to diddley, because I broke a rule I knew nothing about.

I've been in retail since I was fifteen, and I know how to operate most equipment found in any retail establishment large or small. I have operated cardboard balers millions of times, and when they were full I have created and ejected large bales scores of times safely and soundly. Yet when I mentioned to a co-worker that I had made a bale three or four times with the baler (here a "Big Red" where I currently work,) the back room got so silent you could have heard a pin drop.

Sacre Bleu.

"Don't let (super-toolbelt-flannel-shirt-mustache-dyke) hear you say that!" I was promptly informed that to be permitted to operate the baler and make a bale, I was supposed to have passed a "certification." Yes folks, that's right. In order for me to push the "up" button and the "down" button, I have to be "certified." Doing what I had done risked the retributive wrath of "super-dyke." (She's the "logistics" manager I told you about in an earlier post.) I kid you not -- they actually spoke as if she would tear down the building like godzilla, and for all I know she probably could.

I complained about the absolute lunacy of the whole thing to another manager. He treated me as if I were questioning the very existence of God, and almost lost his patience with me. I shook my head. I had just been bitch-slapped by a queen master of the power game, who taught me just how well you can use information, access, and processes to intimidate others and maintain control.

As much as I despise "super dyke logistics manager," I thank her for teaching me a valuable lesson. "My enemy is my teacher," said Sun Tzu in "The Art of War," and he was right.

Friday, February 23, 2007

Dammit, I Did It Again.


It happened. I allowed myself to get irritated and annoyed by the flannel shirt bull-dyke from hell.

Monkey Business Management Secret #7

INFORMATION MANAGEMENT

Here's one of my favorite tools in the power game. This little beauty consists of two parts:

1) Learn everything you can. Over the course of time, learn every little "in and out," of not only your own job, but the jobs of others, as well as all the ropes, tips, in's and out's and tricks of the trade that your workplace can informally be manipulated by. Learn proceedures, processes, tools, methods, etc.

2) Keep your knowledge to yourself. As time goes on and other people move on to other jobs, you can gradually assume the image of the "wise elder of the tribe." Dole out your knowledge in bits and pieces, only as you see fit. You can reward loyalty, groom proteges, play other people's jealousies against another ("how come HE gets to learn how to use the HOOPA-JOOB PROBER, and I don't?") Never reveal everything, keep the best knowledge to yourself, make others bust their keisters off just to earn little pieces of trivial stuff only you know. Make people green and purple with envy just to get to know little stupid stuff that you can make look earth-shatteringly important.

I laugh as I write this, but behind the satire there's quite a bit of truth, based on my personal experience. I've used this little doozy time and again, to marvelous effect.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Monkey Business Management Secret #6

A Study of "Enron-omics"

Feudalism

You have two cows. Your lord and master takes some of the milk.

Capitalism

You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income.

Communism

You have two cows. The government takes both and says they belong to the people, then hires you to take care of them and sells you the milk.

Fascism

You have two cows. The government takes them away by train, denies that meat packing ever existed and drafts you into the army. They tell you cows are the enemy and Milk is banned.

Enron Capitalism

You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a Debt/Equity swap with an Associated General Offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows.

The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company.

The Annual Report says the company owns eight cows with an option on one more.

Oops.

The bad news is, in a recent acquisition frenzy we purchased one of our own companies. The good news is, our stock went up.

Monkey Business Management Secret #5


"If you want to get ahead in management, always wear a white shirt and tie, and keep your hair short and trim."

Well, two out of three ain't bad.

"So This Guy Walks Into A Bar And Says...."


So this guy walks into the store this evening, and asks if we have any small kitchen scales. It had to weigh small amounts, in ounces.

The interesting thing is that the guy was "non-caucasian," all decked out in fashion attire related to the type of music he listens to. Judging by the small words and bad grammar he used, he definitely wasn't Julia Child trying to cook at Escoffier's.

After he left I turned to my co-worker and said "bet you can't guess what he's going to use the scale for..." My co-worker didn't catch my drift, so I had to elaborate. I made motions with my fingers and lips as if I was busting a huge spliff at a Bob Marley concert. He finally caught on and burst out laughing.

Monday, February 19, 2007

The Lightbulb Turns On.


The last couple of days a few of the people in the store have really been pissy.

One thing I've noticed -- 95% of the personnel conflicts tend to center around a small handful of people in the store who have type A personalities. Just about every time I hear someone discuss a problem they're having with a person in the store, it involves these few people.

Another thing that I've noticed is that the people I have had the most trouble with throughout my life were people with type A personalities.

When I become supreme ruler of the business world and C.E.O. of my own world-dominating financial conglomerate, I am going to make sure, through personality testing, that no type A person ever gets anywhere near management in my companies, and that my security people watch any type A subordinates very closely.

Lately I really dread going to work -- I like my job, really, but these type A jerks completely ruin it for me. I don't need their crap.

Read the definition of type A personality at Wikipedia.

Monday, February 12, 2007

I Have The Power....


I have a skill that many people in the world would give anything to have.

I can make people fear me.

The problem is, I neither intend to nor desire to. Instead, I try as best I can to be on peaceable terms with as many people as I can. I go out of my way many times to do favors for people, and show them kindness. Yet wherever I go, some kind of aura follows me that flashes like a big neon sign that says "this guy is trouble, stay clear of him and be suspicious of him." I have no idea what I do to deserve that.

Case in point: this evening I worked in soft-lines. The front-end manager came to check on my progress with my zoning, and she helped me finish, which I was grateful for. Then she mentioned that the soft-lines manager didn't want come check up on me because she's afraid of me. She had asked the front-end manager to do it.

Case in point: a manager at a bank I worked at once told me that some of the tellers didn't want to work with me in the evenings after the lobby closed. She said they were afraid of me.

Case in point: my last job, over at "small Southern-owned dollar store chain who shall remain nameless," all I had to do was walk in the door, and the women in the store would all go rushing in to the manager complaining I was in a bad mood and they were afraid to work with me. One little Mexican girl, April, was incessant with her complaints. The assistant manager, Jessica, went out of her way to lie constantly about me. The cashier, a drug-addicted welfare drunk who spends half her time in the mental ward went around and told people at the other branch stores that I was some kind of psycho (Ha! she should talk!) I know all this because much of it I overheard, and also the customers themselves would often warn me that the women in the store definitely were no friends of mine.

What on earth do I do to these people to make them always want to treat me like I'm some sort of bad guy? W.T.F.?! Rationally speaking, I shouldn't let it bother me, but I really, really, hurt because of it.

There is lemonade I can squeeze from this lemon. Buddha once said "my enemy is my best teacher." When the chips are down in crisis situations, I know just exactly who will be the first people to try and stab me in the back or slit my throat. It will be the people who complain they fear me, for no real reason. Past experience has shown me that, time and again. I probably should thank these people for revealing to me up front who they really are, so I don't have to keep guessing. This way, I can keep a good eye on them and steer clear of them at all costs.

In any case, it seems that I have an unintended talent. A talent that many executives would love to have, a talent I can use in the power game of life. People really should be careful with what they wish for. If they try too hard for too long to portray me as a bad guy, I just may give them precisely what they want.

Monkey Business Management Secret #4

Always remember the "Total Work Equation:"

Real Work + Appearance of Work = Total Work

Try to keep your total work at a constant level but do not increase your real work.

Monkey Business Management Secret #3.


When people stare at you in disbelief, repeat what you just said, only louder and slower.


Back And Forth.

I spent all night going back and forth to the check lanes answering calls for back-up cashiers. It really made me angry. I'd get up there and they wouldn't need me or I'd check out maybe one customer. Then no sooner would I get back to my zone they'd call again, before I could even pick up an item to work on it. I couldn't get a damn thing done.

"Oh, we'll help you," they promised. The cashiers who came to help me zone after closing did a half-assed job and the place barely looked like anything was done with it. I was so mad.

None of the other people on the sales floor would answer the calls because they all knew I would. I don't dare ignore the calls because if the floor people don't answer the split second the calls go out, the management yells at us over the walkie. I'm really getting tired of that little game.

That's not effective management.

That's "holler-until-somebody-does-something-to-get-you-off-their-back" motivation, without any care as to what TRULY needs to be done to solve the problem. I despise management like that. Holler like a banshee, rather than research the problem, create solutions, provide leadership, and foster teamwork.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Yes, I Suppose That *Would* Help....

"However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results."

-- Winston Churchill

"Monkey Business Management Secrets" No. 2

A crow was sitting on a tree, doing nothing all day. A small rabbit saw the crow and asked him: "Can I also sit like you and do nothing all day long?" The crow answered: "Sure, why not." So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the crow, and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.
  • Q: What can we learn from this?
  • A: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very high up.

Crash And Burn.

All evening long I felt totally exhausted and drained. I just could not move fast enough to get my work done. By the time I got home, I felt like I just wanted to curl up in a corner and die. I don't know what my problem is. Most likely because I haven't had my medication in a couple of days. I made especially sure to take it once I got home.

It was a very busy day today at the store. We had to bring out more carts to the front. Naturally, the store was completely trashed, and it took forever to get it straightened up.

Thursday, February 8, 2007

Takin' In The Scenery.

One of the [ahem] side benefits of working at "Big Red" in the north side of town is the quality of the clientelle, which is a whole lot better than the animals I used to have to deal with over at "Little Red."

Naturally, visual appearance is included in the term "better quality." Not a day goes by when my co-workers come to me and point out some heavenly creature or divinely gorgeous M.I.L.F. and her equally hot daughter. (M.I.L.F. as in, "mommas I'd love to freak da booty with.")

Yesterday evening things got turned up a notch. They introduced us to a new team leader, who by coincidence just happened to be a stunning blonde with curves and hips that won't quit.

Yowsa.

Because the evening crew is staffed almost entirely with horn-dogs, I don't know how long she'll last, but for as long as she's there I am all "Yes Ma'am!"

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

"Monkey Business Management Secrets" No. 1

  • To err is human,
  • To shift the blame somewhere else shows management potential.

Monday, February 5, 2007

Football Madness.

The last couple of days it's been pretty busy at the store. Most of the traffic was Super Bowl shopping. Sunday afternoon about 4pm the traffic died off and it became fairly dead on the sales floor.

There's quite a few disappointed Bears fans on the sales crew. I told them the Colts would win. Why? Because it was too much of a money machine for the odds makers. Chicago went in with a lot of money riding on them, and they did good for awhile, but my hunch told me the tide of the game would shift, right about the time everyone's bets were solid around the world. Sure enough, the Colts came from behind and whomped 'em. Ka-ching. I could hear the sound of money changing hands all across the world.

All weekend long we've had to deal with people coming in to buy our clearance furniture. With items that were sold out, people got on their hands and knees and begged us to sell them the displays, which we can't because of liability policy. They would beg us to call every store between here and B.F.E. to find some stupid footstool or things like that.

I'm thinking to myself, "all this for a bunch of cheap, particle board crap made in God-knows-what-slave-labor-country? Here's an idea people: save your money, buy some REAL furniture at an actual furniture store downtown, leave us alone and get a freakin' life, ya cheapskates...."