Brenda lost his job and left bitterly. Two of the top managers I worked with are also gone. There were a handful of others whom I didn't know. The guillotine, for the moment, is resting.

In the process of resolving a problem this morning, I introduced myself to a new manager and explained a bit of my background. You must miss Colorado, she said.

Ordinarily, I might have said something nonsensically standard in return. But in that moment, the floor dropped beneath me. Her comment took me by surprise, and so instead I sat immovable, blinking, mouth frozen down.

She meant nothing by it, and she just blinked back at me.

This afternoon, my boss called and asked my interest in managing a new department being formed in Colorado. I heard the words and what he was saying; I sensed something struggling within the lobes, electricity kicking to light a spark. But my head was pale. What? he said, I can't hear you.

I'll think about it.

But I don't have to think about it now. I held a meeting, got great feedback, and posted the minutes: I'm out of here!

Post-script Sunday, February 29, 2004

The 1980s, then and now, are remembered for its images of corporate success. Do you remember 100% all-cotton pinpoint button-down shirts and leather wingtips? I remember the folks who wore that costume carrying out war games, battles between the top 10 percent that treated the other ninety as carelessly as spare change. I remember early-morning telephone calls, "There's no need to show up today." I remember it for entire wings of buildings suddenly dark, the doors chained.

Leap forward to now. An advanced degree, experience, and a shelf full of books on last year's favorite management theories bring false promise. The suits have changed, but the top one percent still play shell-games with organization charts. Managing a new department? The guillotine lurks just out of sight, a glint of blade in the dark, ready to roll out in six months, nine months, a year.