I hope my blog doesn't become a nonstop forum for discussing work, but it is an outlet for venting the stupid and weird; and my work continues to be that: STUPID AND WEIRD.

My boss and the management mid-levels from Way Out West are here for a care 'n' share: A love-fest to build bridges with the production and management staff here. (And timing is everything; following as it does so quickly on the days of rolling heads.) Adding to the warm fuzzies is the awards ceremony, where BIPC names "Employee of the Year". Do I sound a bit cynical? This year's ceremony, at a local conference center, was arranged by one of the managers who became unemployed last week. And who won the award? Folks who set up a department's chat room. Hmm.

In addition to the group activities, I scheduled independent meetings with my boss. Topping that was the review of the Super Secret Project.^†

That presentation went as well as it might -- if you include listening to suggestions reversing previous requests. It went well -- if you also include my boss' boss questioning the root objective of the project; an objective this person themself had set.

It's no surprise to you who follow along that I'm quite used to this meandering path; indecision masked as Project Management.

What a good idea! I'll make those changes, I minced.

During coffee between meetings, I told boss I'm getting fed up, I've had about enough, I'm angry all the time and I don't think it's me. I did not mention the humiliation from last week over the job dangled for a few seconds in front of me.

And right after that, Boss announced my raise for 2004.

Above average. Can you believe it? I can't.

Survival Technique Number One
Tonight, I joined the cabal for a dinner at one of those expensive but flavorless chains near the mall. On occasion, I've been known for telling stories; and as management looked uncomfortably at their plates and anywhere but each other, my nervous reaction was as if I had been yanked out of the audience and given a microphone. Tonight, I was definitely "on".

The ball got rolling with the story about how I was locked in the basement of the restaurant where I worked as a busboy in high school; I tried to get a drunk customer's attention by calling to her through a heating grate. As she tottered in front of the juke-box, she looked all around (including stooping down behind the juke-box), then waved her hands around her head as if trying to brush off a fly: Do you hear voices? I swear I'm hearing a voice. Where are you? OH MY GOD there's a FINGER!

Ha ha ha. (I don't expect this translates well to the written page. You tell me.)

This start brought healing hilarity to the care n share team. As one of the district heads spilled his 5th beer in an hour on one of his new direct reports, my ex-boss shook his head, laughing: "Tell the Wheaties Box story!"

"The Wheaties Box Story?" our visiting Vice-President leaned forward, eyes shining with anticipation.
"You haven't heard about the Wheaties Boxes?" my present boss teed it up.

So I told the Wheaties Box Story. Followed close on by "Christmas Eve Eviction" and finally, "Family Murder/Suicide". (All true, although perhaps embellished just a teensy bit here and there. These would come under the general category of "scary tenants" and I'll save these for you bloggies another time...)

With the table suitably lubed, my boss took up with a few of his own tales. He told stories involving his stuffed monkey. And then my ex-boss mopped it up with a tale about a pet chimpanzee his family later donated to the zoo when he was a teenager. Punch-line: "We quickly figured out which one was Elsie when it leaped over to the bars and spat at us."

haha ha!

Post-script, Thursday March 11
At our final lunch before his flight today, my boss and I talked candidly about surviving at BIPC. We agreed that a sense of humor, an easy laugh and frequent smile are probably good deflection tools. Meaningless projects, conflicting directives and office politics will always exist; but he predicted we will both survive the coming storm.

The flip side of this equation is that folks with an easy laugh and frequent smile won't be taken seriously; or, in the words of another visiting director, will be taken for "blithering idiots". As the resident Master of Meaningless Projects (Super Secret and otherwise), is Blithering Idiot-dom one drool away? Not that I've ever heard, said my boss, and I trust him.

And I suppose a higher-than-average raise backs that claim up. For now.

If ya haven't heard em before, my goals for 2004 are:
(1) Finish fixing up duplex
(2) Pay off debts
(3) Look for new job -- a pay cut will be likely
(4) Sell Duplex and move

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^† The Super Secret Project: A project I was assigned about two years ago. It involved some research, but at this point seems to mostly involve formatting a very large excel spreadsheet. I work on it for a quarter, then hold a quarterly meeting. At each quarterly meeting, the objectives change, and I spend the next quarter revising. Thankfully, I've saved previous versions, which has come in handy approximately every other quarter. The project provides guidelines and benefits our staff -- if they'll ever be allowed to see it.