Blind Fate

You drove the business right into the ground;

You, with your knowledge, expertise, and renown.

You and your cohorts, your small circle of friends

who couldn’t think past the end of the week; 

You thought this would never end.

Now the jobs of others are on the line

because of your pettiness and your tiny, little mind.

You never saw it coming.

No Gains in Gamesmanship

I haven’t the time 

to play your silly games:

To parse every syllable, every word, every meaning;

We’re supposed to be partners—all pulling the same,

Yet you make a contest out of everything.

Why is it so hard for you to accept an honest challenge?

It’s not about me vs. you, your job vs. mine;

I don’t want to be you—I haven’t the time.

I just want things to work the best that they can,

and I don’t know why that’s something you can’t understand.

So, dodge my emails…respond as thinly as you can.

Your lack of motivation has cost you billing worth 300-grand.

Explain that to your boss when he asks where we went.

Time wondering how to best me could have been better spent 

joining with me in building a team of the best.

Now you’re left with something that’s worth a whole lot less.

No Snitting

I hate it when you're in a snit,

Your panties wadded up a bit; 

The attitude in the air is thick 

from your acrid, acid, self-righteousnit.

It's a contagion you spread,

When you throw a fit 

About things you can't control a bit;

And you  bring us all down when you're in a snit.

I just wish you'd get over it.

Horse's Ass Award

...goes to You!

You, who condescendingly dismisses my communications, despite your encouragement for me to keep you posted. How the hell do you propose to stay in-the-loop if you refuse to open my messages or take my calls?

Here's a news flash--I don't need your business, if that's the condition underwhich it must be secured. There are plenty of other businesses just like yours, who are easier to reach, less trouble to talk with, and in the long run, more profitable for me to manage than you.

Hope the barn door hits you where you do all your thinking.

Don't Feel Flattered

You're still in my Contacts List.
Not because I will ever call you again.
I won't.
I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire.

I don't want to take your next whining, wheedling, needy phone call. I want to know it's you before you have a chance to remember what a colossal jerk you've been to me before your thoughtless call.

Because I'm not going to answer.
It's just going to go to voice mail.
And that's just a button-push away from deletedom.

You'll be floating in the ether...a disembodied voice.
An annoyance without a brain (like you've always been).
And then you'll be gone.
Buh-bye.

Meeting Half-way

"Let's meet in the morning," you wrote in a rush.

"Somewhere convenient," I say,

Thinking we'll find an easy place to get into,

someplace about half-way.

I pick a location that's still four-fifths the way there,

more convenient for you to drive;

Oh, no--"come downtown," you write me right back;

--can't believe that you're throwing this jive.

So I'll meet you there--

thirty-miles into town;

(You might want to check on a map

how the distance from my house and your house

to there, ain't even close to being half.)

Don't Give Me Any Static

At some point, I know, this post will see the light of day.

That's okay.

This entire blog is

meant to be therapeutic, but if someone else should happen to see it...oh, well.

The point being, you really have to be careful what you write these days. In fact, you have to be really careful what you Tweet, blog, Pip, e-mail, text, etc. Used to, if you wanted to send a message, you used a carrier pigeon or the Pony Express.

Nowadays, if you as much as think a thought, something's going to transmit it to the entire world in a nanosecond. Yet, we still have to wait an hour to get into a doctor's office we made an appointment to see.

This is way off track.

So a company I do business with is changing its product line, forcing me out of business with them.

That's fair, I suppose, since they're holding all the chips, and I am a mere player at their table.

The aggravating thing about it is that the pot on the table has been shrinking exponentially since the company changed the name of the game, and refused to re-market it.

Customers fell off (surprise!) and revenues have literally been cut in half over the past 10-months.

So now they decide to just clean house, blaming their customers for the loss of market share--never for once acknowledging they're the source of the problem in the first place.

A comment attributed to one of the company's local executives was passed to me today, to the effect that this operation could do as well by offering nothing to its consumers, as keeping the current crop of customers on line.

That's pretty insulting, when it's the company's decision to allow the business to fail through its own attrition.

Yes, these comments are veiled.

If you're reading and you don't understand, you're not supposed to. If you are, and you do, and you're part of the problem, shame on you for your profligacy.

You dim-wit.

I Won.

I beat you.

You tried to cheat me, you lied, you stole from me.

Then you tried to make it look like something I had done wrong.

I called you on it, and I won.

Maybe I didn't win as much as I would have liked, but you got zip.

And considering the ridiculous claim that you made, that's satisfaction for me.

Neither one of us can talk about it--so this is all I will say.

But I won.

You know it.

I know it.

And that's all that matters.

Hurry Up and Wait

I do business with a company that has offices in every major city in America. The scope and size of this organization is simply VAST. So much so, that getting things done, arriving at decisions, and making things happen is generally an exercise in patience of the nth-degree.

Sometimes, it's just an exercise in futility.

One of my customers wanted to make an announcement of a new feature involving the company described above. It's always good to toot one's horn, but even better if you can get someone else to honk about you, too.

Of course, there's always boilerplate and legalese, and signing off on intials that have initialed sign-offs. Sometimes it takes 6-months to order a pencil; you could write it quicker with a box of burned matches...

So a request for proper protocol and nomenclature was sent up the chain of command of this mighty corporate operation on behalf of my customer.
They were all out.
Couldn't be bothered.

We'll get back to you.

My customer seemed not to sense the gravity--or the glacial nature--of the corporate giant, and released his news without their input. Too bad.

This same corporate sloth recently re-branded one of its products, which affected my business, and all other businesses doing business with this business.

Did they allow weeks upon weeks before changing course?

Did they take their time in steering their behemoth onto a new heading--which would have given the rest of us ample time to make changes to pitches, documents, affiliation marks, etc.?

Of course not.

We were given less than a week's warning...AND at the last minute, the company also changed the presentation form of their product. The transition was a train wreck.

Next time they ask me for something...I think I'll take my time. They can hurry up and wait.

Hell, no!

Just amazing.

The company that unceremoniously fired me in 2008 now finds itself in dire straits because its know-it-all CEO doesn't know it all after all.

Representatives have actually called me and asked me to consider returning to manage things.

What is the temperature in Hell?

In their typical style, they're in a hurry for a decision.

Gotta know within 48-hours, 24-hours ago.

At the very least, could I please give them some guidance on what to do?

(Um, is it just me, or isn't it customary to pay people for that kind of thing??)

So...after doing some digging, asking some questions, and ferreting out the reality of their alternative universe, I called back.

Twice.

Sent an e-mail.

A text-message.

A FB message.

No response.

And now I remember why leaving that place really wasn't so bad after all.

The temperature in Hell?

Still well-above freezing.

I hope they roast.

Wuss!

I asked the CEO of a quasi-government insurance organization (which has within its power the ability to save--or ruin--countless lives by its interpretation of insurance coverages) to participate in a discussion of his company's policies and positions on various topics affecting my neighbors and me.

He asked for a list of prepared questions.

Two weeks ahead of time.

I told him I generally do not have those prepared that far in advance.

When I could not give him those questions until a couple of days before the conversation was to be held, he dodged the appointment, writing in an e-mail that "other folks asked for [my] time...so I made commitments that I cannot break."

Does that mean that the commitment you made to me was breakable, sir?

(Apparently, it was.)

How telling it must be that the CEO of this insurance company feels no compunction for breaking small appointments in such a cavalier manner: This is the same organization that has forced many of its policy holders into financial ruin over the nuances of policy language, and now seeks to obtain legsilative re-definition of its status so as to avoid punitive lawsuits when they make a mistake.

No wonder this wuss didn't want to participate without a heads-up beforehand.

Unspoken Retort

You owe me money.

Quite a bit.

You've strung me out with promises for weeks, months. There's always another check comin' in, always another job you just signed. I once totalled up all the jobs you'd said you'd signed, and if my math were correct, you could have balanced your cash flow problems, and mine, and had money left over.

So who's more stupid--me for believing your tales--or you for thinking you could just go on with impunity?

And what a classy note you sent in response--you, cancelling our contract?

You violated the contract by your non-payment.

Don't feign to cover your ass now by "cancelling" the contract.

The point is moot.

The relationship is over.

The next guy you hear from about this may well be my attorney.

Have a great rest of your life, you reprobate.

Call me...

You wrote your name on the back of my card and handed it back to me.

What's this, I thought.

You're supposed to call me, my eyes said,  

as my mouth mechanically cranked out 

a hopeless thank you

for your stupid name

on the back of my card,

with no number and no means to ever contact you again.

Guess that's what you really wanted to achieve.

So many contacts.

So many calls.

None returned.

For the want of one, I no longer work

calling people who don't wish to be talked to

about something they don't want to know about,

for which they'd spend money they don't have

to pursuade people they don't know

to call them.

Chicken Shit

I lost another job today.

Second one in less than a year.

Didn't think I'd mind it as much as I do, because I truly loathed the gig towards the end.

A friend recommended me, and I was hired over several applicants. However, it was a match not meant to be, on so many levels. 

The corporate headquarters is in the northeast, and I am from the south; just a bit of a cultural difference, which showed up in big ways, like common courtesy and thoughtfulness that my people take for granted...and they haven't a clue about.

Soon, it was process over performance, even though the performance was tacitly expected, and enforced by Third Grade playground tactics. Then a key player in the program started renegging on support, and in some cases competed against itself. 

It was hell.

My first clue things were winding down was the inability in the middle of the day to log-on to the network to upload my reports and work--process over performance, you know. Despite a phone call to the boss on the previous day that drew praise and promises of follow-up on a request for information for a big client I was developing, the the anvil dropped on my head like the hapless coyote in the Roadrunner cartoons.

You're out, with 5.34 vacation days and a week's severance. Don't let the door pop you on the ass on your way out. Except, I work from home. So here amid the clutter of a job I no longer have, I ponder the point.

When I turned in my company computer, I also turned in the ten new orders I'd completed, and the seven that were in process. 

The final straw for me: the lack of courage on the part of my boss, and absence of even a phone call or e-mail acknowledging my work.

What a chicken shit.

Death of a Salesman

Did you ever see “Death of a Salesman?”
Sometimes I feel like Willy Loman—the world has stopped buying what I’m trying to sell. Oh, it’s not quite that bad, but it makes you wonder, when you can’t even get a phone call returned.

Is it just me, or has the world gotten a little meaner, a little less considerate? How much effort does it take to return a stinking phone call?

“Hello, you don’t know me, but if you will call me back, I will give you the secret of making you fabulously rich, amazing you friends, and astounding your boss. What have you got to lose by calling me?”
Nothing seems to work.

What really chaps my hide is people who lead you on and on, only to slap a door in your face.

I can handle “no.” What I don’t swallow so easily are the games people want to play:

--Your appointment keeps you waiting 15 minutes, only to tell you “no.”

--Your appointment keeps your second meeting, only to tell you “no,” when a freaking phone call would have saved you a half-hour commute and the cost of gasoline.

--Your appointment keeps you waiting 15 minutes for the second meeting, to tell you “no,” when a phone call would have sufficed. (That way I can curse you when I hang up, as opposed to having to wait to curse you until I’ve reached the parking lot.)

Un-answered e-mails are just as bad.

I send all of mine so that I can confirm they’ve been received. That way there’s no guesswork.

When I don’t hear back, I know for certain I am really being ignored.

I’m developing a new tack on my sales pitches: If you don’t get back to me in 24-hours, any deal is off. I don’t want to hear from you the day after tomorrow, because I will have been long gone by then, baby, shaking the dust off my feet from your lousy doorstep. You want this, act now, because I am done playing the stupid waiting games.

Who knows—I may wind up being the most successful salesman ever, just by being rude, abrasive, and harsh. That seems to be the language most folks understand these days.

Cutting Noses and Lines of Credit

Life sure throws you some funny pitches, sometimes.

Nearly five years ago I was working for a BIG public corporatation, whose name you would readily recognize if I were to tell you.

That's not important.

This company was so big and powerful and profitable that they issued Corporate American Express credit cards to all of their Managers, so that we could more easily do our jobs. If we needed to travel--the line of credit was there to use, and the company would pay the bill directly.

The only catch was, the line of credit was in MY name, not the company's.

So I had to watch them like a hawk to make sure the bills were paid on time.

Shortly after I left that company, I inquired of American Express and my former employer about what to do with the Amex Corporate card issued in my name. American Express said the card was still good--go ahead and continue to use it; I never received a response from my former employer. Guess they were too big and high and mighty to care.

In fact, a couple of years ago, AMEX actually issued an updated card to me.

Fast forward to the present, and I am now finding myself in the interesting position of independant contractor, doing direct business with the former employer. Now they HAVE to treat me nicely, because I am one of their larger customers.

I've been using that Corporate AMEX card to enable large, five-figured transactions with the former employer. In fact, they suggested that I take the position I have assumed in order to retain a certain level of billing (for them).

I am something like a White Knight on a troubled account.

Whatever.

I received a letter in the mail last week telling me that this former employer had requested that American Express cancel the card, and brother, it was dead in nothing flat.

Amazing, don't you think?

Here's a big, fat-cat company that couldn't be troubled a few years ago to properly manage my transition enough to close the credit line then...and for the past years I have been using it, and paying the balances each month.

Now that the company has come to me and asked me to take on the financial risk of a certain project, including being personally responsible for it, they decide, "oops, better snag that AMEX card out there," essentially cutting the line of credit I was using to operate with them.

Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face.

I, of course, immediately contacted American Express, and replaced the line of credit--which was already in my name--with another account.

Why is it that the bigger (and more out of touch) a large company is, the more difficult they like to make it to do business with them?

Blacklisting

I have decided that life is too short for helping those who don't want to be helped.

Henceforth and from now on, I will be trustworthy, loyal, honest and helpful to as many as I can be. I will not tolerate duplicitous behavior, however, and will shun those who say one thing to my face and do the opposite behind my back.

In a recent "exit interview" with the CEO of a former employer, I was told that the executive who had severed my relationship with the company was "not my enemy," nevermind he had the power to retain my position if he wanted.

Not my enemy?
Indeed, who needs enemies with friends like that?

This polecat had the balls to look me in the eye and tell me he was my friend.
Some friend.
Someone lied, someone was not truthful, and my litmus test for honor, virtue and shooting straight just got a lot harder to pass.

So I have now learned to be wary of female executives and Hebrew CEO's (or incarnations of both traits in the same body.)
If that's stereotyping, tough.

My experiences with both types have been less than successful in recent months, and I don't intend to repeat the pain.

Oaf!

I recently had the opportunity to assist a professional with his presentation skills.

His delivery and sense of entertainment is about as exciting as watching paint dry.

I gave him sound advice, coached him on his content delivery, and created several different, interesting ways for him to tell his story and accel in his effectiveness.

He stabbed me in the back.

He told me one thing and then did the opposite.

He had the gall to call me on a weekend and spew his venom and bile into my restful space.

Fine.

I will not get even.

I will get ahead.

He can rot in his own juices.

Communication Breakdown

They don't call the workplace a sandbox for nothing.

Our little sandbox is full of emotional five-year-olds, who figure the best way to get their way is to resort to childish methods...like refusing to talk to other people with whom they disagree or have a beef.

Yep, it's personal.

Case in point: One of our clients has in its employ a fellow against whom our CEO has carried a grudge for years. He won't admit it, but it's there.

Recently, our Fearless Leader all but told the client that if it were up to him, the man would be fired. Behind the scenes, he told us to not communicate at all with this individual.

The problem is, this person is the primary conduit through which essential communication flows from that business to others, including our's.

So we have been essentially crippled in managing our relationship with this company, all because our CEO thinks their CEO is an idiot for hiring this guy, and has forbidden us from talking to him.

Brilliant!

In sandbox vernacular: takes one to know one.

Mr. Negativity

My boss accuses me of being negative when I question processes and various requests. I think I'm just doing my job when I point out some of the more obvious flaws that are not recognized. Minor things, I suppose, like getting ahead of ourselves before the company is really ready to take on additional loads.

Sure, I'm all about growth, expansion, and moving forward. However, when the task falls to me to clean up messes made because we weren't ready, I think I have a right to question the "ready, fire, aim" mentality.

Perhaps it's not healthy, but I've nearly given up trying to figure out what this guy wants.

If I zig, he zags.

He gives me one set of instructions, and then issues the same task, sometimes with altered directions, to several others. The result is a chunky soup with too many cooks working on the broth, which no one can swallow.

I am not being negative.

But I am no yes-man, either.