I was reading Tim Duncan's bio on a site, and it inspired me to, along with my overwhelming sense of cynicism on this Friday of joy and gladness (only 5 days of work left! Exciting!) write something brutally true and yet over the top exaggerated. and that would be how my institution eats its young.
Not the visiting young, but the new employees. I don't know if this is the case in the real world with real money dollar jobs, but I have seen a lot of super-swift hire-quit actions go down here. Let me explain how somehow, a renowned institution of 400+ employees has built a management system that contrives to suck the souls out of people.
Scenario 1: The impossible situation
There is one senior manager here (and by here, I mean collecting a fat paycheck) who actually lives in New York and is getting her doctorate. I'm not sure how that works. Who okayed this? I mean, what person in there right mind said, 'ah yes Barbie, we should pay her a lot and make her supervisor of 15 people on site, but pay for her to live far away and come to town whenever she wants'? I guess it could work, if she was a stellar manager/communicator, but here no one is a stellar communicator, and Barbie is worst than most.
A testament to this is the way that she can't keep people working for here for any long period of time. New hires are not hired/interviewed by her, so they are never forewarned of her *&*#*&-ness. Barbie will then roll into the scene at her leisure, and about 50% of the time, after the visit we are looking for a new hire. The swiftest hire-quit process I saw was within 24 hours of Barbie's landing at SFO. I am not sure if this is her record. I feel a little bad. The only ones who make it are just like her. It's an impossible situation for people who do not want to become conniving.
Scenario 2: Failure to drink the kool-aid
This is common, when the person hired has been a little lured in by our "mission" and "vision." Then they get in and take a good scope around and see that those were some really awesome pretty-lies we construct in order to not hate ourselves at the end of the day. Many people cut and run at this point. A few stick around, and some get so caught up in the kool-aid that they ask to franchise the stuff so they can peddle it to other unsuspecting folk.
An example of this can be seen, ironically, in our recruiter. He started in October. His last day is Wednesday. Which is too bad for Earnesto, because it means the person he was counting on to find my replacement will not be there. Which kind of means it will be a long time before there is a replacement. Oops!
Scenario 3: They saw behind the curtain
Last year for Camille's birthday, we, plus Renaldo, went to lunch. This was still when Renaldo was having a death-crush on Camille, and as part of his awkward ritual mating dance he had the Hopes & Dreams talk. Way too early in the wooing, buddy. No wonder you failed. But even at the time it was apparent that of the three of us, I was a #2, and they were going to either be lifers or have a #3 moment sometime soon. hopes and dreams don't make it very long here.
Think about it in these terms: Under the guise of 'creative engines,' the place sucks hopes and dreams up and then uses them to power the institution's Project Negative Value. I envision the movement to be similar to that of the beast in Yeats' poem "The Second Coming," slouching towards the target.
When people see past the eyewash and the kool-aid, what they basically see is the machine room of the Hopes & Dreams giant vacuum, and scales fall from eyes quickly. This is how we lose the most promising talent. They go and say, hey, if there is going to be a wizard behind the curtain, it should be something that grants wishes, or at least looks like Cary Grant, and not something that will eventually see me a dried up old bag with no additional training. And then they leave (usually not until I have told them something embarrassing about myself; they have phenomenal interrogation skills).
Showing posts with label Renaldo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Renaldo. Show all posts
Friday, December 14, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
The system is down
(What can I say? I'm a child of the times.)
If this weeks entries have seemed a bit off, it's because I've been a trifle off all week due to the intoxicating mixture of a cold, dayquil, nyquil, and my regular battery of medications. and by a trifle off, I mean, falling asleep unexpectedly, losing my voice, and dancing in the back of a truck outside of my house last night to the music only I seemed to be hearing. All in all, except for the fact I tend to get a bit grumpy when sick, it's one of the best, most entertaining times to know me. When I'm sick, I don't know anything about discretion. Which is only a bad thing because it's something I need for work. Ooops!
Still, I'm ill enough to decide to forgo a pleasant evening spent seaside for Miss Camille's birthday this weekend. Any guesses as to who will be there? That's right, Renaldo is taking a break from his busy boogaloo schedule to go and make puppy-dog eyes at his girl in several million. Which just reminds me of last year around this time was when his death-crush made it's Debut. And I'm talking about full on high society debut: it might as well have donned a gown and gloves and descended down the spiral stair to make an entrance into our workplace. (It would have done a lovely dance and looked so darling with a decorative fan)
Thinking about that night also reminds me how much I miss Sam, a fellow that came, worked for 6 months here, and changed my life. Sam, who remains the only person willing to even start up with me about the competition of the Spurs versus Mavericks. (there really isn't a competition: winning it all vs. being out in the first round thanks to the absolute genius of a single man bent on revenge). Sam, who when he sets his alarm always makes sure the digits add up to 9. I miss Sam 8 trillion times more than I miss Henry, which shows you my achilles heel. I love to have a crush; careless and spontaneous outpourings of emotion that in the end are not worth much. Examples include Henry (a great guy who I liked to like because he is funny and there was a game involved) and Rusty (not great guy I liked because I was dangerously bored).
Anyway, it makes me think of Sam because it was an occasion when he also joined us at a local libation station and imbibed. Can I say I miss him one more time? I MISS SAM!
Happy Birthday Camille!
If this weeks entries have seemed a bit off, it's because I've been a trifle off all week due to the intoxicating mixture of a cold, dayquil, nyquil, and my regular battery of medications. and by a trifle off, I mean, falling asleep unexpectedly, losing my voice, and dancing in the back of a truck outside of my house last night to the music only I seemed to be hearing. All in all, except for the fact I tend to get a bit grumpy when sick, it's one of the best, most entertaining times to know me. When I'm sick, I don't know anything about discretion. Which is only a bad thing because it's something I need for work. Ooops!
Still, I'm ill enough to decide to forgo a pleasant evening spent seaside for Miss Camille's birthday this weekend. Any guesses as to who will be there? That's right, Renaldo is taking a break from his busy boogaloo schedule to go and make puppy-dog eyes at his girl in several million. Which just reminds me of last year around this time was when his death-crush made it's Debut. And I'm talking about full on high society debut: it might as well have donned a gown and gloves and descended down the spiral stair to make an entrance into our workplace. (It would have done a lovely dance and looked so darling with a decorative fan)
Thinking about that night also reminds me how much I miss Sam, a fellow that came, worked for 6 months here, and changed my life. Sam, who remains the only person willing to even start up with me about the competition of the Spurs versus Mavericks. (there really isn't a competition: winning it all vs. being out in the first round thanks to the absolute genius of a single man bent on revenge). Sam, who when he sets his alarm always makes sure the digits add up to 9. I miss Sam 8 trillion times more than I miss Henry, which shows you my achilles heel. I love to have a crush; careless and spontaneous outpourings of emotion that in the end are not worth much. Examples include Henry (a great guy who I liked to like because he is funny and there was a game involved) and Rusty (not great guy I liked because I was dangerously bored).
Anyway, it makes me think of Sam because it was an occasion when he also joined us at a local libation station and imbibed. Can I say I miss him one more time? I MISS SAM!
Happy Birthday Camille!
Friday, August 31, 2007
A Reward for your Patience
For those of you who have been patiently awaiting my next post, provided that there are any of you, I am sorry. Pre-vacation prep and vacation has kept me away. Here is a brief update of what went on while I was away from the keyboard.
I have a lovely coworker named Camille, who all the boys love. Not joking. Henry loved her, Renaldo loves her, and various and sundry other pathetic fellows have prostrated themselves at her feet in the hopes she will pay them some attention. To date, that I know of, she has only dated Henry. She has repeated fended off advances from Renaldo, who has an obnoxious tendency to pout in an obvious manner afterwards and general then endeavors to makes everyone around him feel acutely embarrassed for his complete inability to take the none-too-subtle hint.
One day, many moons ago (think May-ish) I agreed to go out one evening and give Renaldo a few tips about the situation. It was a moment of weakness on my part, but motivated by the excellent intention to give him the tip of 'IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN' and have done with the whole slightly silly saga. It had been going on since last September. Anyway, you know what they say about intentions.
So the evening rolled around and I was already feeling grave misgivings about the whole scheme. Renaldo was just so happy. He was also ridiculously stealthy as he collected me from my cell and we left to the sports bar he had chosen for what would be my torture. I don't drink, but for a fleeting moment I wished I did so I would have something to blunt the agony that loomed. No, just a diet coke and glimpses out of the corner of my eye of a Detroit-Chicago playoff game (that was a tragic series, I rather like the Bulls, but they do have some room for improvement).
Even P.J. Brown felt better than I did that night (and less violated). (Reuters)
Renaldo got himself a beer and what he perceived as license to wax poetical about the virtues of Camille. The best/worst was when he said "She is one in a million, no, one in several million girls." News Flash - That same could be said of me, but it is certainly not high praise, now, is it?
He continued for TWO hours, and every time I tried to reacquaint him with reality, he would reject it out of hand. Add to that overly loud really bad music (pretty much things I would only ever hear if I was being tortured, like being forced to go to a baseball game, or back in time to the 80s ((and not the good bit of the 80s, but the really cringe-worthy parts))) and the fact that I hadn't eaten yet that day, and you will understand, surely. I tried melting into the wooden table top or just disappearing completely, but that is the one time Radiohead actually didn't help. Nothing could prevail against this pernicious crush. It was a new kind of evil.
Finally, I demanded that I be let go. Renaldo relented, in that he took me to the Bart station, but the entire ride was absorbed with his descriptions of his "feelings" for Camille. That's right, he used the f-word. And it wasn't as funny as the clip I just linked and it was more painful than this one (partially redeemed by the Spanish intro). Anyway, feelings are things that should either be able to be explicated - example, I am attracted to Damon, I loathe Styrofoam - or not mentioned. I tried explaining this to him, but something was lost in the English as a second language area.
** DISCLAIMER** Please don't assume this means I am xenophobic or anti-Hispanic or anti-ESL. Not that it matters, but Renaldo is not in fact Hispanic. That's not his real name. It is a simple fact, however, that when going between any two languages there are certain nuances and cultural factors that are frequently misunderstood. That is all I am saying.***
I was in this purgatory of a car ride when by divine intervention, my brother called me to discuss basketball. You can bet our last dollar that I was all over that. Who cares about cell-phone courtesy when their are being granted a reprieve from torture? So I leapt from the car when it came to the station and ran.
I was shell-shocked by the time I arrived home. Shell-shocked and ravenous. All I could think of was, 'must have chocolate.' Indeed, chocolate seemed the only thing that could possible make it bearable. So I proceeded to walk a mile to the store and a mile back (uphill, in the snow, both ways! okay, it's a little cliché, but it is the truth), purchased a fine chocolate cake and ate a healthy slice. By healthy, I refer to my mental health, as it did much to restore my mental health.
Ever since that fateful day, things have never been the same between Renaldo and me. Being around him makes me crave chocolate, even though he has not repeated his version of the Inquisition. It's simply not the way things used to be. He asked, as have his coworkers, what happened that has cause this rift. I don't say anything, because I have realized, it doesn't matter what you say to Renaldo, he has very selective hearing powers. He perceives that which is pleasing to him, and this isn't it.
And to cap this tale, I have made a timeline. Enjoy!
- Henry had his last day and rode off into the sunset.
- My foot swelled up like a sausage and broke one of my favorite shoes.
- I was invited to a very la event at SFMOMA, and will go next week. Apparently the person who wangled the invitation for me said I was qualified to go based of my 'young and fascinating" status. I didn't know I was young and fascinating, but hey, I'm not going to argue with it.
- I went on a leisurely vacation far away from my cell/cubicle. Acquired a bit of color that has in the two days I've been back faded back to gray.
- Earnesto and the senior managers went on a retreat I planned for them, enjoyed it, talked me up there, and repaid me by de-authorizing my overtime. What a swell guy.
I have a lovely coworker named Camille, who all the boys love. Not joking. Henry loved her, Renaldo loves her, and various and sundry other pathetic fellows have prostrated themselves at her feet in the hopes she will pay them some attention. To date, that I know of, she has only dated Henry. She has repeated fended off advances from Renaldo, who has an obnoxious tendency to pout in an obvious manner afterwards and general then endeavors to makes everyone around him feel acutely embarrassed for his complete inability to take the none-too-subtle hint.
One day, many moons ago (think May-ish) I agreed to go out one evening and give Renaldo a few tips about the situation. It was a moment of weakness on my part, but motivated by the excellent intention to give him the tip of 'IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN' and have done with the whole slightly silly saga. It had been going on since last September. Anyway, you know what they say about intentions.
So the evening rolled around and I was already feeling grave misgivings about the whole scheme. Renaldo was just so happy. He was also ridiculously stealthy as he collected me from my cell and we left to the sports bar he had chosen for what would be my torture. I don't drink, but for a fleeting moment I wished I did so I would have something to blunt the agony that loomed. No, just a diet coke and glimpses out of the corner of my eye of a Detroit-Chicago playoff game (that was a tragic series, I rather like the Bulls, but they do have some room for improvement).
Even P.J. Brown felt better than I did that night (and less violated). (Reuters)Renaldo got himself a beer and what he perceived as license to wax poetical about the virtues of Camille. The best/worst was when he said "She is one in a million, no, one in several million girls." News Flash - That same could be said of me, but it is certainly not high praise, now, is it?
He continued for TWO hours, and every time I tried to reacquaint him with reality, he would reject it out of hand. Add to that overly loud really bad music (pretty much things I would only ever hear if I was being tortured, like being forced to go to a baseball game, or back in time to the 80s ((and not the good bit of the 80s, but the really cringe-worthy parts))) and the fact that I hadn't eaten yet that day, and you will understand, surely. I tried melting into the wooden table top or just disappearing completely, but that is the one time Radiohead actually didn't help. Nothing could prevail against this pernicious crush. It was a new kind of evil.
Finally, I demanded that I be let go. Renaldo relented, in that he took me to the Bart station, but the entire ride was absorbed with his descriptions of his "feelings" for Camille. That's right, he used the f-word. And it wasn't as funny as the clip I just linked and it was more painful than this one (partially redeemed by the Spanish intro). Anyway, feelings are things that should either be able to be explicated - example, I am attracted to Damon, I loathe Styrofoam - or not mentioned. I tried explaining this to him, but something was lost in the English as a second language area.
** DISCLAIMER** Please don't assume this means I am xenophobic or anti-Hispanic or anti-ESL. Not that it matters, but Renaldo is not in fact Hispanic. That's not his real name. It is a simple fact, however, that when going between any two languages there are certain nuances and cultural factors that are frequently misunderstood. That is all I am saying.***
I was in this purgatory of a car ride when by divine intervention, my brother called me to discuss basketball. You can bet our last dollar that I was all over that. Who cares about cell-phone courtesy when their are being granted a reprieve from torture? So I leapt from the car when it came to the station and ran.
I was shell-shocked by the time I arrived home. Shell-shocked and ravenous. All I could think of was, 'must have chocolate.' Indeed, chocolate seemed the only thing that could possible make it bearable. So I proceeded to walk a mile to the store and a mile back (uphill, in the snow, both ways! okay, it's a little cliché, but it is the truth), purchased a fine chocolate cake and ate a healthy slice. By healthy, I refer to my mental health, as it did much to restore my mental health.
Ever since that fateful day, things have never been the same between Renaldo and me. Being around him makes me crave chocolate, even though he has not repeated his version of the Inquisition. It's simply not the way things used to be. He asked, as have his coworkers, what happened that has cause this rift. I don't say anything, because I have realized, it doesn't matter what you say to Renaldo, he has very selective hearing powers. He perceives that which is pleasing to him, and this isn't it.
And to cap this tale, I have made a timeline. Enjoy!
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
James Brown
I know the James Brown of my Industry. I didn't know I knew him, and have in fact been out with him. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Renaldo.
In honor of this discovery, let's add in this video clip that is educational. Yes, that is the real James Brown, not Renaldo.
In honor of this discovery, let's add in this video clip that is educational. Yes, that is the real James Brown, not Renaldo.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Let's label this: flirtation
When I'm not busy scheduling, or doing my work, or writing this, I do a little something that brightens my day. It's almost inexplicable how much I enjoy this activity. It is communal flirtation.
Please allow me to explain a little further. Our Accounts Payable is kept in a room slightly larger than a broom closet, but smaller than the executive office, with four of them in there. They are nice people, three girls and a boy who I have determined is crazy (Renaldo). But it is a place of community, you can almost always find a visitor or 6 in there disputing accounts, providing receipts etc. And they have this game they started, which is a really stupid game, when you think about it.
This game is primarily consistent of typing secret words into their label maker, and leaving them for the other people playing. I love it. I love words, they are little gems to play with. The other thing I love about the game is that it allows me to flirt with a specific person, Henry, a very lovely fellow from another department, without actually being held to that flirting. It gives us foundation for some very lively banter, and our face to face interactions have prospered. However, since the basis for the flirtation is done in proxy through the label maker, and is read by more than just Henry and myself, we are not committed to it in the eyes of our peers.
So Henry and I exchange our words and play a game that other people can play too. It's thrilling. I'm sure part of the thrill is that Henry used to date one of my favorite coworkers, so is forbidden fruit. I know the other women who play the game see it as a way to flirt with Henry, but since Henry and I are the wordsmiths now (we hijacked the experience about three weeks ago), they are at most periphery.
I love this, flirtation with plausible deniability, otherwise know henceforth as communal flirtation. See below, the tool for our delicate relationship.
Please allow me to explain a little further. Our Accounts Payable is kept in a room slightly larger than a broom closet, but smaller than the executive office, with four of them in there. They are nice people, three girls and a boy who I have determined is crazy (Renaldo). But it is a place of community, you can almost always find a visitor or 6 in there disputing accounts, providing receipts etc. And they have this game they started, which is a really stupid game, when you think about it.
This game is primarily consistent of typing secret words into their label maker, and leaving them for the other people playing. I love it. I love words, they are little gems to play with. The other thing I love about the game is that it allows me to flirt with a specific person, Henry, a very lovely fellow from another department, without actually being held to that flirting. It gives us foundation for some very lively banter, and our face to face interactions have prospered. However, since the basis for the flirtation is done in proxy through the label maker, and is read by more than just Henry and myself, we are not committed to it in the eyes of our peers.
So Henry and I exchange our words and play a game that other people can play too. It's thrilling. I'm sure part of the thrill is that Henry used to date one of my favorite coworkers, so is forbidden fruit. I know the other women who play the game see it as a way to flirt with Henry, but since Henry and I are the wordsmiths now (we hijacked the experience about three weeks ago), they are at most periphery.
I love this, flirtation with plausible deniability, otherwise know henceforth as communal flirtation. See below, the tool for our delicate relationship.
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