Reindeer Games

Ouch. It’s bad enough when a likeable, smart executive calls you out during your own meeting, because he has no idea what you’re talking about.

But let’s make matters worse: His direct reports—the same ones you’ve unsuccessfully attempted to engage with over three months—are feigning glances of incredulous curiosity at one another. “Whatever in the world can she be talking about?”

Now, throw your boss into the room.

I hate it when colleagues play dirty at work, and I hate it even more when they play their hands so childishly. I get paid decent money for what I do, but not enough to revisit my high school years.

The temptation is always there, of course, to kick back. Thank God that e-mail strings and ignored meeting requests are stubborn to erase. I could have suspended the agenda, thrown my computer screen up on a wall, and shown the executive every e-mail message and meeting request ignored by his clueless team. The effort to work together for something greater never faltered, even when I drove by cubes and was met with smirks of, “Oh, yeah, that’s not important right now.”

But I didn’t. I instead spent 30 seconds stepping back, quickly outlining the strategy. When the exec’s head began to bob enthusiastically, I proceeded with the agenda, winking at my boss.

She knowingly smiled. Good thing, she knew how frustrated I’d been with this lot of morons. And she quietly visited the exec afterward, sharing my attempts and frustrations.

Too bad there aren’t greater consequences for stupidity. For now, I’ll settle for this exec holding his team’s feet to my fire. I win.

You wanted to be a member of the most powerful clique in school. If I wasn’t already the head of it, I’d want the same thing. —Heathers (1988)

You Can't Go Back

There is a story that somehow refuses to be told about the aftermath of the economic crisis: the idea that the same jobs as before will come back again when this is all over with.

Although jobless claims remain painfully high, we’re now hearing of hopeful glimmers that the end of job slashing is finally near. We continue to hear that thousands of good-paying jobs are standing there, unfilled, which does nothing to help boost productivity and drive the economy.

Yes, we’ve heard these stories. But why aren’t those jobs being filled?

I have an idea: Because there are more than a few people trying to get hired again into jobs that didn’t fit their skills very well. They sat in their cubes for years, punching in and punching out, cranking out mediocre performance, with no ambition or direction. And they can’t stand the idea of changing themselves, or seeking a career change to something that better suits their talents (and moves them beyond mediocrity).

I recently looked through applications for an open position and was floored: For a manager position, the years of experience some applicants listed was astronomical. I’m convinced, however, they didn’t apply for the job, not even the title—rather, they applied for their assumptions of the job description. Manager-level aside, they took some comfort in a title that was familiar. But if they read the actual description, they’d see this isn’t a familiar job. There is an expectation of innovative thinking, of killing sacred cows and doing things differently, more effectively, with a greater return. And sadly, we still place a good deal of value on a seemingly-successful resume—and are probably passing over real talent as a result.

And now I shall waste a few weeks’ time disappointing candidates who want so badly to go back. I will invite them in because of their experience on paper, and quickly discover during interviews they have no desire to innovate or move forward. I can’t rewind the clock for them, but they’ll definitely waste my time.

“I'm hurt . . . I'm pissed . . . gotta find a new job!”—Grosse Pointe Blank (1997)

Too Much Information, Sam

One year ago this week, I managed to endure only a few hours of bad television advertising while under the influence of drugs. The message of fear, delivered across a number of industry sectors and brands was painful to hear again and again: fear of diaper rash. Of sunrise burglar attacks. Thankfully, I was able to tune it out, either by changing the channel or taking a nip from the NyQuil jug.

Now? I swear that none of us can escape the barrage. I’m lucid and healthy, yet I can’t change a channel or turn it off. It’s inescapable. One cannot escape the dull, monotonous pounding of the message of fear, thinly veiled as a call for frugality, savings, and do it yourself, pumped through every 30–second time slot on networks, cable, and online. The source of this pirate signal? Arkansas.

Listen, commercial giant: I fully appreciate the gravity of the economic situation, without your condescending reminders. When I finally settle in to watch television—either on the tele or online—the last thing I need are six commercials during one episode, with your annoying little voice encouraging me to save a little dough, live a little high life. No doubt, your advertisers are brilliant. But there is such a thing as too much.

Has anyone else found the off switch? Mind telling me where it is?

Two words, donkey: Shut. Up. —Shrek

The Two-Way Street

Today, I had the general manager of a new vendor partner pull me aside, after more than a week of kickoff meetings and process flow mapping. She stated that after reviewing our services agreement, it was important to keep everything “on the up and up.” She then informed me that the vendor business currently works with two of our competitors.

A terribly insecure manager in our group is quick to call on all of us to “stay on the same page.” It’s her usual script during team meetings and strategy reviews. Funny. We never hear from her in-between the meetings. Literally. She doesn’t respond to questions or requests. We usually find out after the fact of some project she’s approved, some spending she’s allocated, or some discussion she’s had that directly implicates all of our work. Staying on the same page is for her benefit, alone.

Trust is a precious commodity these days in business. I wish my colleague and the vendor suddenly on very shaky ground would try and remember that.

Trust everybody, but cut the cards. —Finley Dunne

Can Companies Really Find Common Ground?

Oh, OK, shameless plug: I love the Citizens League. I take so many great cues for business by listening to its civic discourse over policy (usually served up with a fresh pint of beer). As I listen to the discussions, I begin to think they’re being too civic, and I mentally formulate a faster, more decisive (and often unilateral) way to help further their nonpartisan agenda. I realize that’s counter to the entire point of finding common ground, but hey, works for me!

And I’m fascinated by Nate Garvis, who presented last week at the CL annual meeting. “Naked Civics” was a follow up to his 2007 “Outrage Industry.” His premise today: No one does well in a bad community, so working toward the common good is not just smart—it’s wise.

There were a slew of good nuggets during his presentation:

• There are social implications of consumption; think better designs for how we consume.

• The best leaders are those who listening closely to those they lead.

• Lulan is an example of a startup doing well in business by doing good.

But I couldn’t help it. My brain tried to reconcile his points with typical corporate leadership—and I got nowhere. So I started tweeting out questions and statements of my own:

• Table manners are conversational regulation? Oh, I can think of a few of those in biz.

• Networks are taking over hierarchies; how should one with a career built on hierarchal progress cope? What does biz think?

• I’m thinking we need a Sesame Street curriculum in the workplace.

• How do we help the bean counters to care like this? We can’t.

I believe in the notion of common ground, of better design for business and communities, for improved consumption patterns that save money and resources over time. I’m enamored by the entrepreneurs who not only profit by helping to bolster those in need, but look so cool while doing it.

And I am convinced that the organizations with the greatest power to drive common good—i.e., corporations—will never be able to make that kind of impact.

Not without a little outrage and uprising on the inside, that is.

No, I’m not suggesting unions—that’s a tired bunch of B.S. Rather, we have to cycle out the old biz thinkers to get to common good. I still think we let the wrong people go this past year.

So how do we help the bean counters care like this? I don’t think they can. Do you?

“We focus on tools. We need to focus on elements. Common good is designed well.” —@NakedCivics on Twitter