Dead Fish in a Box

The chronicles of a suburban fishpimp trying to keep it rural.

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Location: United States

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Auto Pilot

In a page taken right out of “Office Space” we are required to read aloud from the company handbook every Monday morning. It’s usually rhetoric about how we need to improve communication or be more organized. After the reading one of the managers typically will wax philosophic about how we should be applying the subject mater to our daily tasks, about how important it is that we live the company philosophy every day. Generally speaking, it’s good stuff, but we all know that what is said and what is actually practiced are two different things, and during this time we occupy ourselves with other tasks: planning our sales calls, reading reports, daydreaming, etc.

But it is especially entertaining to see that the managers feel the same as we do. Yesterday, while the designated “team member” was reading aloud, Simon kept himself entertained by stacking the new set of dry-erase markers end to end. Then, admiring how tall the stack had become, attempted to balance it on one finger (with modest success), completely oblivious to the fact that he was still standing in front of the entire sales force. It’s as if the moment the reading commenced his mind entered a parallel universe while his body remained here, and when the reader finished and returned to his seat mind returned to body and the normal post-rhetoric pontification began.

I don’t mean to imply that I ever did, but I’m going to have a real hard time taking him seriously anymore.


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