One approach worked better than the other
Every time a worker checks in or out, email is sent. Every time a foreman disciplines someone, email is sent. Union grievance? Email. Toilet flushes? Two emails. There are even emails bouncing around for/from/to ex-employees. The BM, who owns this thing, has been incapable of corralling the stupid emails. I suggested we shut the damned thing off, but then Grace pointed out there are some useful messages. (Like: Toilet paper out in the Port-O-Lets.)
The BM has had months to chomp on this problem with nary a suggestion. I recommended using an external filtering machine such as the one I have hosted for my fan club discussion list. (Okay, I don’t really have one, but if I did…) Five minutes of my work would save them a month of floundering. Just after I finished, the BM then sends me a note:
It appears these lists are on [Captain Sarcastic's vast server farm]? I have to ask if that’s a good idea for business. It effectively puts our data at the mercy of the policies of the [Captain Sarcastic's hosting provider]. Backup is another question. I personally consider anything at a 3rd party site to be effectively public on the web since it’s so easy for these systems to be cracked. A fully encrypted file system would be better but that’s still vulnerable.
My first reaction was a greater understanding on why this guy cannot get anything done. My second through fifth reactions were bilious sarcasm. On the sixth try, I wrote back:
Are you fucking kidding me? Maybe we should find an unpowered machine, buried in concrete, wrapped by twelve inches thick of aluminum foil, guarded a pack of feral dogs, patrolled by two kilted Scotsman playing bagpipes, and ringed with “no data here”/“beware of leopard” signs printed in forbidding, dark red, fixed-width lettering. That would be even more secure!
A more effective method I should have used (as relayed by a sympathetic coworker who used this):
Cliff is okay with this. Let’s move on.
Pure genius.
In December, Bucky was a line manager with seven directs, a (single) window office, and able to come and go when he liked. Now, he manages no one, shares an office with The BM, and, as dockmaster, is required to not only manage regular “group” meetings but also give bi-weekly demonstrations to the rest of the division. I’m not surprised he has a visible attitude problem, though as early as October, I had given him indications that Big Organizational Changes were afoot. I even went so far as suggesting how he might position himself.But I digress…
Grace took one for the team and volunteered to run Team Misfit Toys (formerly Team Destiny), featuring Bucky and The BM. With Bucky’s prolonged absence, it took her some time to spool them up to meet on a regular schedule. She soon realized that There Were Issues and, in hopes of completing something, she’d drastically curtail their scope.
The BM was in charge of presenting his latest masterpiece. In a large, darkened conference room with twenty people, a spreadsheet was projected:
BM: First you go to row 73, column B, and type a 1. Then, go up five rows
and enter either 3 or 5, depending what time of day it is. You can
optionally set row 14, column G to “q” or row 37, columns S and T to [...]
The dark room, the hum of the projector, and the droning of the BM were too much for me: I fell asleep.
When I regained consciousness, he was showing another intricate combination that sunk a cruiser. Someone interrupted with a question, this was the post-demo Q and A. I took my leave and got some coffee. Later, I heard that the spreadsheet proposed was dysfunctional, in part because Bucky had refused to give feedback on interim results. “Come when done. Then, I look.”
Grace was not amused, but tried to do damage control, even publicly taking the fall. Prior to the second round, she had been pushing on both very hard. Bucky came into my office to complain she was the New El Jefe. (Dude, you do not want to go there.) Grace conceded she was micromanaging them. If anyone needed micromanaging, it was this pair. The second demo went better.
