Used to drill down for the details,
Keep my department in the black, out of the red, keep underlings in the dark,
Check P&Ls and ROI, labor numbers and net costs, Utilize Sigma6 and Lean methodologies,
Put non-mission critical items i(more)n the round file, Follow GAAP,
Don't even start about deliverables,
Take things offline, online and outside the meeting, outside the box, and anything else: sidebar it.
I lunched and solutioned as a verb/noun like nobody's business.
I braindumped and mindshared and blamestormed and datadownloaded like it was heroin or poetry.
Loop you in, keep you out of the loop. I was a business cowboy: on point, walking my talk, herding cats, putting them to bed.
Before we restructured in '09, I proactively leveraged and value-added my synergy to incentiveize and repurpose core competency of the prairie dogs in the cube farm, but ultimately we had to disintermediate and rightsized a third of our team.
Then I realized (ok, well, my subconscious realized it first), that I wasn't sold.
I was playing. Just there to study the lateral evolution of the human race. Immersion-school style. Undercover-gonzo-journalist style.
I found, over and over again, that my fellow american citizens, that us Human Beings were trading sacred things like personal relationships, culture, advancement, courage, betterment... for mere data, soundbites, careerfear and conformity and a steady check.
Process and procedure are taking the place of creativity and daring.
Bathing in this pool of stagnant undeadity, these little practices, lingos and false language are tumors on our humanity.
I can't blame "corporations". Humanity created corporations, so if you need to identify blame, might as well get a mirror.
These days, my mobile office is my brain. Meetings are personal. Ideas are gold. (less)
"You do know it's getting closer, don't you?"
I've been walking for what seems like weeks. One bare foot repetitiously in front of the other. Naturally, I'm alone again.
Furry little Nonnie scooted ahead of me after our little cattle-prod incident.
They always do that, drop a few confusingly(more) prophetic words then off they go.
The sky up ahead is heavy with storm clouds, nothing around me but this long damn winding road and a shit-load of sand.
"You think you know-"
"Oh please! Enough with the damn cryptic! Show yourself already, I'm sick of these out-of-nowhere voices, dream or not!"
"I'm here," said the ridiculously tall figure looming over me, "and your wish is my command."
He flashed me a grin scary enough to give me nightmares for the rest of my life which might be coming to end soon at the rate I was going.
"I was sent to you little Catt, why are your knees knocking together? Do I make you horny?"
This has to be a dream. No fucking way a genie is standing in front of me quoting Austin Powers.
"Who sent you," I asked. May as well play along, it's a long way to, wherever the hell it is I'm going.
"Nobody sent me per se, that's just something I said because it sounds kinda neat, doesn't it? By the way, don't call me the g-word ever, it makes me cranky and puts me in a punishing mood. G will suffice. Now lets go over some things."
An antique roll-top desk appeared in the middle of the road blocking the horizon. A high pile of files with my name on them perched precariously on the edge of the desk.
"It's all there Catt, no hiding from Kali. And no, you can't wish me away."(less)