Fun with Human Resources

And now it's time for another episode of Fun with Human Resources. In today's episode we'll cover a fun game we call the Golden Pole Award.

Now if you're a tree hugging, Saab driving, hot dog abusing, crappy documentary making, politically corrected, gerbal hole then you may want to draw a Community Chest card. Go to HR, go directly to HR. Do not pass your sense of humor. Do not collect a good laugh.

Now that we've got those gerbal holes chasing their tails I'll give you the scope. The Golden Pole Award goes to the person or persons who, unintentionally, made the most sexually suggestive comments over the past week. Like the Oscars, nominations alone are something to be proud of, but actually being able slap that beautifully shaped pole on your desk is a magical feeling.

There are no hard, fast rules on nominations or the determination of the weekly winner. Sometimes the comments are so good that we forego the nominations and simply give the little pole to the winner.

In case you're having a hard time grasping the pole, here are a couple of past winners.

[While discussing the testing of a new software version....]"Why don't you let me play with it because I don't play with it everyday like you do."

or

[While discussing a flight to New York city via Ithaca, NY...]"I don't know why we stop there. No one ever gets off in Ithaca."

Again, these comments have to be made during the course of normal conversation. Once your Award program becomes wildly successful you might want to keep your BS detector up. People will try to "steal" the award with planned material. There are bastards everywhere.

Anyway, have fun, enjoy the pole. I think I'll head home, maybe my wife wants hot sausage for dinner.

Level 4

Continued from Level 3.

Ah Level 4, how I miss thee. I probably spent more time at Level 4 than at any other level. Mostly that was due to my intense stubbornness and my [old] type A personality (for the record I think I now have a type A-). Nothing says frustration better than feeling like one of your four pending aneurysms is about to burst.

Level 4 is the only level that has a name; it's the WTF level. The difference between Level 3 and Level 4 seems very minor on the surface, but trust me Level 3 is going to seem like a beach vacation compared to Level 4. It's like the difference between being a baseball fan and a Cubs fans. Let's take a classic example of a "problem" and see the reaction of a person at level 3 and then the reaction to the same situation at level 4.

Some time in the distance past Uncle Jimbo was the lead developer on a software product....

Management: "We need the new version of the software by the trade show."
Uncle Jimbo: "What trade show?....What new version?"
M: "The new version we need by the trade show."
UJ: "Rrrright......what are the requirements for the new version?"
M: "Requirements? Only one. We need a new version by the trade show."
UJ: "So you don't care what the new features are as long as it has a new version number?"
M: "Yep."
UJ: "I'll see what I can do to collect client feedback and figure out what new features would add value for the customer."
M: "Great....but it'll be done by the trade show right?"
UJ: "Yeah, we'll have to work some weekends, maybe put in a couple of 80 hour weeks, but we'll have something."
M: "Weekends huh...that would be great."

Notice the classic level 3 desire to fix the problem. Notice the sarcasm in my responses. Classic level 3 passive-aggressive responses to management-babble. Now let's look at the same "problem" had I been at Level 4.

Management: "We need the new version of the software by the trade show."
Uncle Jimbo: "We don't have a new version in development."
M: "Well we need one."
UJ: "Sure, I'll get right on that. What would you like it to do."
M: "I'd like it to be ready by the trade show."
UJ: "So you don't care what it does?"
M: "Nope."
UJ: "Okay."
UJ (thought bubble): "WTF!"

Notice the quick clarification of the asinine. No long protracted debates about the perceived value of the project or the potential issues that could arise. Notice the defeated "Okay" response.
The real story actually turned out pretty well. The development team got together and decided that we would do all the features we always wanted to do. Many were in direct support of client feedback. After three of us spent several weeks of massive overtime we took a Beta of version 3.0 to the trade show and it was the most wildly successful version of in the history of the product. Sometimes a blind squirrel (management) can find a nut. Especially when you're an expert tea-cupper.

Had I been at Level 4 the situation probably would have gone like this....

I walked away from the management meeting and made a quick call to our graphic designer. "Give me a flashy new startup graphic and a new silk-screen for the CD." We took those, moved around and renamed some of the menu choices and called it Killer Software App 95. We played Quake while on overtime, delivered the new version at the trade show to a lack luster response and laughed at customers who ask, "WTF, where are the new features"? WTF indeed.

Level 4: WTF summarizes the general feeling of incredulousness felt when things around you start moving towards chaos. Gone is the desire to fix things, replaced with a desire to do as little as possible for fear of adding to the confusion. "I put in my 40 hours" is the mantra you quote when asked how your job is going. Dilbert is your Avatar. Shoulder shrugs and "Okay" are your standard reaction to action items from your manager. You do not desire recognition or reward for a job well done, but you still try to do your job well (for no other reason than to sleep at night). Shit is broken and you know, deep in your soul, there isn't a thing you can do to fix them and it pisses you off.

WTF am I doing here. WTF indeed.

On to Level 5

At Least Their Lungs Aren't Dusty

Case Number #38471: Teenagers trying to escape their horrible worlds of free food, free board, and a general lack of responsibilities.

What happened to the old days when you could get a rush by burning ants, playing frog ball, and feeding Alkeseltzer to sea gulls. Man...those were the days.

Come On, What's It Take to Kill a Retard!

As if it's not bad enough that stupid people are saved from certain death every day by the quasi-miracles of modern medicine, completely unnecessary signage, and of course technology, now we have our government preventing the thinning of the gene pool because a convicted murderer couldn't figure out which 'one of these is not like the other.'

Our country isn't going to be destroyed by civil war, terrorists, or the next SARS. It won't be the Chinese war machine, the Japanese economic machine, or the outsourcing of citizenship to India. Our country will fail because in about 75 years the average IQ in the US is going to make Forrest Gump look like Stephen Hawking.

There are only two ways to handle this.

1. As I've stated before, mandatory sterilization of the mentally deficient is a "must have" platform policy for any future political candidate. If they're not willing to start the injections by 2010, I'm not voting for them. And for the love of God, can we start getting some control over the reproductive activities of the people that live off the tax payers. If you are on welfare and you already have six kids (well you're claiming six anyway), you should have you reproductive organs remove. Especially if you can't positively identify the fathers for all of them.
2. Those of us that recognize this problem for what it is need to start making babies. Lots of babies. This appears to the practical, educated individual as a bad way to solve the problem but hear me out. General common sense is that there is a global population problem and that the days of 3-4 children per couple is a thing of the past. Having two children, in essence to replace you and your spouse, seems to be the best approach. In a closed system that would probably work. But in a world suffering from the effects of retard theory (a derivative of chaos theory where entropy is measured by the application of common sense and logic) I just don't see it working. The time has come for us to begin our come back or we're going to be as extinct as the dodo.

Vote YES for mandatory sterilization and make babies. Let me know if you thought War of the Worlds was a wild ride filled with stunning effects, wonderfully compelling characters, and a hint of dramatic irony. I've got special instructions for you.

Level 3

Continued from Level 2.

If you ever find yourself at level 3, and my guess is that you will get there at some point, you'll be filled with two things I hate; good intentions and hopefulness. Most likely you've passed through Level 2 so you'll know when you get there. Gone will be the days of being pissed off by the stupidity around you. In it's place is the desire to set things right, to fix those things you feel are within your power to fix. No angry confrontation, just simple matter-of-fact determination. I will make my work environment better.

Forget it. Run. Run like Pacman from Pinky; like Ted Kennedy from the bridge; like Trinity from an agent; like a cow from Michael Moore. Level 3 is the most painful and frustrating of all the levels. Problem is, you won't know it until you reach level 4 (unless of course you sit down, shutup and starting listening to my advice). For me, level 3 lasted for several years. That's years of eye rolling and sarcastic reactions wasted. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Level 3 is like a bad relationship. You see the problems, and you think you can fix them.

At a party you catch your girlfriend kissing her best-friend's boyfriend in the bathroom. No problem, we can work through it. No...no you can't. Your girlfriend is a lush and a psycho-hose-beast. You can't fix it and the sooner you get out the better. Damn, glad that never happened to me. That would suck. What would suck more? How about two years later finding that same girlfriend coming home with another guy while you wait in her dorm ready to surprise her. Not sure who had the bigger surprise you, your girlfriend, or the other guy. Oops. Guess that didn't get fixed. Did I tell you I'm seriously glad that never happened to me? When you're at level 3 work is that girlfriend, and she's a bitch. Crap will go wrong and you'll think you can fix it. You're wrong (man, it never gets old saying that).

Work related problems fall into two categories: 1) big brained problems, and B) little brained problems. Since management is completely and utterly incapable of wrapping their short strands of grey matter around them the big-brained problems almost never get solved. Because, we all know, only management can solve big-brained problems. There are so many little-brained problems that most of the time management gets overwhelmed and simply says, "F' it, I'll be over here kissing someone else's boyfriend." Before you know it you're treading water in wet jeans and a hoodie that says, "A slut will sleep with anyone. A bitch will sleep with anyone but you."

I considered relaying a specific Dilbert-esque example of how trying to fix the things you see wrong at work will only lead to frustration. Then I realized that, like an experienced parent withholding those few nuggets of advice from new parents because they should "experience it for themselves," I'm not going any further. In fact I've said too much already. Forget what I just said. Except the part about not trusting your drunkard girlfriend. That's always good advice.

Go out and turn your workplace upside down with improvements. Go for an A solution to each problem. Tell those who want to McGyver it to go screw, "Step aside, and let a professional thinker take a stab." Explain to them slowly and with as many monosyllabic words as possible that "elegant" solutions are usually characterized by simplicity. Then, for good measure and to avoid confusion, tell them to pound sand. Live by the motto, Furious Activity is No Substitute for Understanding. Enjoy level 3 as much as you can, because when it's over you'll be pissed.

Level 3: A strong desire to rectify issues and troubleshoot problems is a key component to a level 3 attitude. You consider hiccups at work to be challenges not problems. You effectively communicate to management the issues, potential resolutions, and your desire to help correct them. It's not uncommon for you to never hear another word on the subject. Towards the latter stages of level 3 you'll begin to feel frustration at the lack of effective change you've made but you will keep trying. You still talk about work with your spouse (or slutty girlfriend) but find that the discussions are filled with more and more complaining. Management seems to have their heads firmly up their asses. You begin to hate the fact your you want to make improvements but that doesn't make you stop. And then it happens. You finally see the forest and the trees. It's clear as day. You see all the problems and all the solutions at one time. Eureka! And then your email notification goes off, and you see the email from your boss regarding the update to the TPS report template. What was I just thinking about?

On to Level 4

"We have deserts, but we don't live in them"

That was a funny quote from a great routine by Sam Kinnison.

Living in upstate New York has its advantages. There really aren't any dangerous animals (save the occasional rabid raccoon) and the weather isn't going to crush, knock over, or wash away your house. The same can't be said for many other places in the country.

Take the gulf coast for example. I mean sure you get to live the life of leisure, poling your skiff through the marsh to try to catch the gator that's been eating your chicken, but what about those hurricanes. It's like time-share condos are the southern equivalent to the mid-west trailer park. And some people get hit year after year. I watch some of the interviews of people who've rebuilt their homes several times and all I can say is, "Damn, you're one stupid bastard." I can't even call them unlucky. Getting hit with a tornado is like finding a meaningful scene in Speilbergs' War of the Worlds....highly unlikely. Hurricanes on the other hand are like implausible, unnecessary, over-the-top effects. You know you're going to get it, it's only a matter of when. (Special Note to Steve: If this was a tribute to George with it's flat uninteresting characters, been-there-done-that story, and dialog that would make me want to destroy all humans, then you succeeded. Only thing you missed is that you should have stolen the look of the aliens from Star Wars instead of ID4. A bunch of ass-kicking Jar Jars would have made this movie super sweet.)

So here is my advice to those living in an area that might get hit by the next Cat 5. Move. Oh, you can't afford to move? But you can afford to rebuild your home again? You are retarded. If you can't afford to move try this. Next time a hurricane is on the way, throw all you crap in a boat, strap yourselves in, point it north and get ready for a wild ride. I guarantee you'll end up someplace better than that soggy, craptaularly ill-placed hovel you call home. Trust me.

So I have this friend....

that thinks it's necessary to send me marked up copies of all my blogs so that I can correct the typos, spelling errors, and grammatical mistakes. At first I thought that's very nice of him; he's a good friend. Realizing that I do fat finger things or change the structure of a sentence without catching a change in tense I updated my posts based on his feedback. At that point I started proof reading my posts more diligently in an attempt to reduce these types of errors, and I think I've been more successful than not. But then I find out that he does this because it really bugs him to read something with mistakes.

This reminds me of a personal strategy I almost implemented a year or so ago. I was going to buy a bunch of hands-free head sets for cell phones and start giving them out to all the idiots who continue to talk on their phones, and break the law, while driving. You'd think that people important enough that they have to be available even when they're running to the store would have jobs producing enough income to purchase a $10 headset. I mean seriously, you must be really, really important. Talking someone through open-heart surgery from your Beamer must be very difficult work. I'll never know because I can actually go through a whole day without talking to someone on the phone. In fact, gasp, I don't even own a cell phone.

I gave up the idea because it would have showed that I cared a little, which I don't. More importantly I would have had to spend money on stupid people which goes against several of my personal ethics rules (unless of course the money would go towards a vasectomy or tubal sterilization).

My point is it turns out I don't care if there are a couple of typos in my blogs. If I get my point across that's all that matters. Ultimately, if these few typos bug the crap out of my friend, they're all worth it.

Thanks my friend. All future typos are just for you.

The Ignored Epidemic

There are many horrible afflictions in the world today: AIDS, Cancer, West Nile to name a few. But there is one that no one seems to want to talk about or address. I don't see millions of dollars being dumped into research in an attempt to solve the problem. We've got massive R&D efforts going into erectile dysfunction drugs, but not a penny that I'm aware of trying to correct the biggest problem to face this nation, and possibly this planet, since the Black Death. It's not something we see big multi-band concerts supporting, or celebrities speaking out on (although I think I know why). Even the talk shows don't seem to want to face the issue head on, although empirically many of them cover it every day.

So what is this heinous affliction threatening our neighbors, co-workers, and even our own families? Stupidity. Yes, the most taboo of mental diseases goes unchecked on a daily basis and I for one am fed up. This is not your average Forrest Gump stupid I'm talking about. Nor is it that teenage stupidity that many don't outgrown until their mid-20s. This is the full-on, no-questions-asks, "you did what?" adult stupidity.

We've got mothers putting children in car trunks on a weekly basis. We've got politician that wouldn't know the definition of the word "platform" if it bit them in the arse. We've got Tom Cruise opening his mouth. Our education system is failing to identify and label these people. Medical science continues to save individuals, who through their own actions, would have died in days gone by. They come from every walk of life; rich and poor, black and white. They walk among us, and damn it I want to know who they are before their stupidity directly affects me. I still firmly believe in manditory sterlization of stupid people.

We are failing ourselves by not pointing out at every opportunity the stupid acts we see every day. So try this the next time you see someone being stupid, punch them (you have to hit them, they don't understand verbal negative reinforcement) and remind them, "You're an idiot. And when you wake up tomorrow, you'll still be an idiot. So do us all a favor and don't wake up. But if you can't help yourself, as you lie there in bed, try holding your breath for a couple of minutes. Trust me, you'll see some really cool colors."

"Only two things in life are infinite--the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe."

-- Albert Einstein

Why do you think he built the A-bomb? [Editors Note: Thanks to DP for pointing out that Einstein was not directly involved in the Manhattan Project, however he did write a letter to Roosevelt and my guess is that he had stupid people (like Hitler) in mind when he wrote it.]

Punch an idiot today. And if necessary, beat them like a rented mule. Sometimes it's the only way.

Virgil Brigman is Back on the Air!

And you all thought I was lost in the Abyss of vacation. Well, I'm back. And so are my quotes, random thoughts, and musings.

We went to an arts festival yesterday. There was some nice work, but the art work I need to comment on is the increasing tattoo population. They were everywhere. Now, of course, I have an opinion on tattoos. Generally I think that expressing oneself by permanently altering your body is a bit excessive. I would suggest a new tee shirt, or hat or something. Tattoos are sort of like bumper stickers on a car....what if Kerry/Edwards loses? Then you're stuck with that dumb sticker til you get rid of your '84 Saab. So my advice, don't get a tattoo they're a bit too permanent.

But the reason for my post today is a suggestion to all those woman who have decided to get tattoos on their lower backs. For the love of God, what are you thinking? Sure, right now it's an attractive, inviting, cute little butterfly. Ten years and two kids from now and it's going to look like Mothra flying over the Sumida river. Try a permanent marker "arrow" instead. It gets the point across and at some point it'll wash off in case it doesn't work out for you.