We receive a quote from a supplier. The Crazy Man and I are pleased because it matches what we expected to be paying rather than the higher amount our account manager at the supplier kept insisting was the real cost.
Unfortunately the supplier has cc'ed Marketing, who are the ones hanging out for the items in question. Before the Crazy Man or I have time to lock in the price by acknowleding and accepting the written quote, the Marketing manager replies to the supplier, cc'ing us and the account manager who gave us the verbal quote on the high prices to begin with.
Marketing: "Thanks for the cheaper price, but this is all very confusing. We were expecting to pay the dearer price that you've been telling us for the last few weeks we're supposed to pay. Can you please explain why we're not paying the higher cost? Because we've reworked our whole business plan around the higher price, and this means we'll have to change it now."
We're now waiting for the account manager to inform us that the cheaper price from their underling was an error, at which point the Marketing manager will start wailing (again) about having to pay the higher price.
This has helped me work out the difference between strategic marketing (where the Cow-orker was based while working under the Marketing Shrew) and random bone-headed marketing, which is what I'm trying to deal with at the moment.
One involves grand visions that are almost completely divorced from the capacity of anyone to deliver them, while the other is simply blurting out the first stupid thing that enters your mind.
27 February, 2006
Cow-orker: Reload, shoot other foot
"Why isn't it ready yet? I leaked information about it, and it's still not ready to go, and now they want to know when it will be ready!"
"Remember that thing you kicked up a big fuss about last week and insisted everyone needed to discuss before this could go live?"
"Yes..."
"Well, they're discussing it."
"But - noooooooo!!!"
Ah, I see - they weren't actually supposed to listen to her.
"Remember that thing you kicked up a big fuss about last week and insisted everyone needed to discuss before this could go live?"
"Yes..."
"Well, they're discussing it."
"But - noooooooo!!!"
Ah, I see - they weren't actually supposed to listen to her.
25 February, 2006
Cow-orker: Hobbies
The Cow-orker has developed a new hobby.
First she finds something that she's not responsible for. Then she finds the person most affected by that something without actually being responsible for managing it, either. Then she encourages them to tell her about problems they're having with it, without actually telling them that she's not the person who'll be dealing with it anyway.
At this point, having successfully identified a random problem, she throws the panic switch. Things then go one of two ways.
OPTION 1
She sits on the issue for two to three days to build up a good panic-driven head of steam while the information she's gleaned from her unsuspecting source gradually becomes obsolete. Then she rings her source back and panics them more by telling them how much more critical their situation has become because of the two or three days that have elapsed. It doesn't matter if she tells them exactly what they told her in the first place; the Cow-orker is a master at inflating something into a full-blown crisis and has been known to send people running in circles like headless chickens just through the sheer weight of conviction she can bring to her claims that they're doomed. Plus, of course, they're under the impression that she's actually been looking into their concerns since she last spoke to them.
Then she rings me and tells me she's just spoken to whoever, and they're really stressing out about whatever the issue is, because they're in an awful situation, they're doomed, and they don't know what to do. At this point it's customary for me to act surprised and explain to her that I've actually been speaking to these people before and since she first pumped them for information, that they're aware the situation is either under control or on its way to being resolved, and that her victims should know there's nothing new to worry about.
Her customary response? "Well they're in a blind panic at the moment for some reason, so someone really needs to speak to them to sort things out. Would you like me to do it?"
Are bears Catholic?
OPTION 2
Rather than stew on the issue, she begins contacting everyone she can think of (senior management, middle management, operational supervisors) and rants desperately about the great crisis of our times and how we're morally obliged to act now now now and implement some half-arsed solution she's made up on the spot and which has the twin benefits of being completely unworkable and not having been run past the people who would actually need to implement it.
Not that it matters what they might have to say, however. The Cow-orker has decided that there's a moral obligation at stake, and that the only solution is to make it someone else's problem immediately whether or not they're equipped to handle it in the first place. Following this, she'll ring me and rave down the phone, approaching borderline hysteria when I won't agree to begin trying to implement her plan, and ramping up the volume in the belief it will make her case more persuasive.
"But they have to do it! We have a moral obligation!" (Which I'm assuming is either her new buzzword, or means that, having convinced someone else that the sky is about to fall, she's then promised she'll take care of things for them without checking first to see whether she actually can).
This is followed by my token effort to convince her that implementing a poorly though-out knee-jerk solution without consulting any of the people expected to deliver it, which has no resources to support it, and which we can be reasonably confident will fail, is likely to upset clients far more than simply explaining to them that we're working on a solution to what's actually a non-critical problem of her own invention.
This option usually ends in dire warnings of imminent catastrophe, the necessity of calling back an equally frantic client or workmate immediately (because they've somehow gotten it into their head that the end is nigh and "are in a blind panic"), and further exhortations to do something immediately even if it doesn't even give the illusion of being remotely useful.
First she finds something that she's not responsible for. Then she finds the person most affected by that something without actually being responsible for managing it, either. Then she encourages them to tell her about problems they're having with it, without actually telling them that she's not the person who'll be dealing with it anyway.
At this point, having successfully identified a random problem, she throws the panic switch. Things then go one of two ways.
OPTION 1
She sits on the issue for two to three days to build up a good panic-driven head of steam while the information she's gleaned from her unsuspecting source gradually becomes obsolete. Then she rings her source back and panics them more by telling them how much more critical their situation has become because of the two or three days that have elapsed. It doesn't matter if she tells them exactly what they told her in the first place; the Cow-orker is a master at inflating something into a full-blown crisis and has been known to send people running in circles like headless chickens just through the sheer weight of conviction she can bring to her claims that they're doomed. Plus, of course, they're under the impression that she's actually been looking into their concerns since she last spoke to them.
Then she rings me and tells me she's just spoken to whoever, and they're really stressing out about whatever the issue is, because they're in an awful situation, they're doomed, and they don't know what to do. At this point it's customary for me to act surprised and explain to her that I've actually been speaking to these people before and since she first pumped them for information, that they're aware the situation is either under control or on its way to being resolved, and that her victims should know there's nothing new to worry about.
Her customary response? "Well they're in a blind panic at the moment for some reason, so someone really needs to speak to them to sort things out. Would you like me to do it?"
Are bears Catholic?
OPTION 2
Rather than stew on the issue, she begins contacting everyone she can think of (senior management, middle management, operational supervisors) and rants desperately about the great crisis of our times and how we're morally obliged to act now now now and implement some half-arsed solution she's made up on the spot and which has the twin benefits of being completely unworkable and not having been run past the people who would actually need to implement it.
Not that it matters what they might have to say, however. The Cow-orker has decided that there's a moral obligation at stake, and that the only solution is to make it someone else's problem immediately whether or not they're equipped to handle it in the first place. Following this, she'll ring me and rave down the phone, approaching borderline hysteria when I won't agree to begin trying to implement her plan, and ramping up the volume in the belief it will make her case more persuasive.
"But they have to do it! We have a moral obligation!" (Which I'm assuming is either her new buzzword, or means that, having convinced someone else that the sky is about to fall, she's then promised she'll take care of things for them without checking first to see whether she actually can).
This is followed by my token effort to convince her that implementing a poorly though-out knee-jerk solution without consulting any of the people expected to deliver it, which has no resources to support it, and which we can be reasonably confident will fail, is likely to upset clients far more than simply explaining to them that we're working on a solution to what's actually a non-critical problem of her own invention.
This option usually ends in dire warnings of imminent catastrophe, the necessity of calling back an equally frantic client or workmate immediately (because they've somehow gotten it into their head that the end is nigh and "are in a blind panic"), and further exhortations to do something immediately even if it doesn't even give the illusion of being remotely useful.
15 February, 2006
Cow-orker: Welcome to the Twilight Zone
The Cow-orker just paid a visit, so I've been treated to a glimpse inside Chez Cow-orker.
The Spouse got somewhat hammered last night. The Cow-orker woke up at 1.30 this morning to find him swaying at the end of the bed, clutching a video camera. When asked what the hell he was doing, his response was that now he was finally going to prove she snored.
The Cow-orker tells him he's an idiot and, morevoer, that he's creeping her out with his video camera antics and is never to do anything like that again. The Spouse objects to being described as creepy, and decides to teach her a lesson by sleeping on the couch. The old, backbreaker couch, that is, with no suspension or upholstery. Yeah, that'll teach her. He grabs a blanket and a pillow and retires to the moral highground where videotaping unsuspecting sleeping women isn't considered the province of serial killers and stalkers.
An hour later the Cow-orker is woken by a crash. The Spouse, having successfully half-crippled himself on the couch, has tried to return to bed but tripped over the blanket in mid-lurch and collapsed in an incoherent heap on the floor. Eventually he makes it to bed.
An hour after that, the Cow-orker is woken again. This time, he's out on the front porch, urinating off into the darkness. His explanation this time is that it was closer than the toilet, which is at the other end of the house. She returns inside, grateful that it's still only 3.30am and that they have a high fence along the front of their yard. It's not until much later that she realises how lucky she was that he was able to negotiate the front door in the first place.
Just another night in the suburbs, really...
The Spouse got somewhat hammered last night. The Cow-orker woke up at 1.30 this morning to find him swaying at the end of the bed, clutching a video camera. When asked what the hell he was doing, his response was that now he was finally going to prove she snored.
The Cow-orker tells him he's an idiot and, morevoer, that he's creeping her out with his video camera antics and is never to do anything like that again. The Spouse objects to being described as creepy, and decides to teach her a lesson by sleeping on the couch. The old, backbreaker couch, that is, with no suspension or upholstery. Yeah, that'll teach her. He grabs a blanket and a pillow and retires to the moral highground where videotaping unsuspecting sleeping women isn't considered the province of serial killers and stalkers.
An hour later the Cow-orker is woken by a crash. The Spouse, having successfully half-crippled himself on the couch, has tried to return to bed but tripped over the blanket in mid-lurch and collapsed in an incoherent heap on the floor. Eventually he makes it to bed.
An hour after that, the Cow-orker is woken again. This time, he's out on the front porch, urinating off into the darkness. His explanation this time is that it was closer than the toilet, which is at the other end of the house. She returns inside, grateful that it's still only 3.30am and that they have a high fence along the front of their yard. It's not until much later that she realises how lucky she was that he was able to negotiate the front door in the first place.
Just another night in the suburbs, really...
12 February, 2006
Rumour and Expectation
Day One:
My contract is renewed for another two months.
Day Two:
The Token Human who replaced the Cow-orker when she left for Marketing hands in his notice. Cat + Pigeons has nothing on what this results in,,,
Day Three:
Word spreads. The feeding frenzy begins.
My contract is renewed for another two months.
Day Two:
The Token Human who replaced the Cow-orker when she left for Marketing hands in his notice. Cat + Pigeons has nothing on what this results in,,,
Day Three:
Word spreads. The feeding frenzy begins.
- the Crazy Man approaches me to see if I want the job. He doesn't seem too surprised when I say "no", and we briefly discuss whether now is the time to look at restructuring that unit;
- the Cow-orker approaches to see if I want to take the job. She's still struggling with the idea that I might not want to come back. I tell her "no", and she asks whether the Crazy Man has sounded me out about taking the job;
- my former manager phones me to warn that I'm likely to be set upon by the Secondary Cow-orker to see if I've been head-hunted (or press-ganged) yet. The Secondary Cow-orker interrogated the token human at length the previous evening to make him spill the beans about what was going to happen with his job, and appears to be trying to piece together the order in which he told people. Apparently this has something to do with her theory of people nominating their successor;
- a former workmate rings up to see if I've been approached to take the job. He only thinks it's funny now because the Primary and Secondary Cow-orkers haven't yet seen fit to confide in him;
- the Secondary Cow-orker finally strikes. Have I been approached yet? What do I intend to do? What do I think "they" are planning?
(She could simply ask management what they plan to do, but that might pose unacceptable limits on the wildness of her speculations. Plus she's probably convinced they'd lie to her, anyway, so she may as well begin asking everyone.else who doesn't know what's happening so they can fuel her imagination); - another former workmate warns me that the Secondary Cow-orker is now quietly going nuts trying to predict what will happen, and inventing scenarios in which she'll be able to win the job that's rightfully hers after being "cheated" of it twice already;
- my former section head approaches my former manager to see if I plan to move back into my old area, and whether anyone's approached me about doing so yet. He seems surprised to learn that I'm not leaping with joy at the prospect of returning to work with the Cow-orker.
(Incidentally, this confirms my suspicions that people didn't believe me last year when I said that I wasn't just leaving because of the money); - the Secondary Cow-orker drops by for another visit to tell me her theories on why the token human is leaving. To the best of my knowledge they all miss the mark by a wide margin. Then she tells me how she'd have been a much better choice for the job in the first place, because after one rough year in the role, he still didn't have the breadth of knowledge that I (or even the Cow-orker) had built up over several years;
- more warnings: the Seconday Cow-orker's mood swings have gotten dramatically worse when some sadist pointed out that I have a family to support and might not have a choice about whether I take the job or not;
- the Cow-orker comes back to see whether I've reconsidered my previous response, and to fish for hints as to whether I've heard anything about what's going to happen. She's busy working herself into a state of terror over the thought of being to look after things alone, even though there's actually zero possibility of that;
- my manager calls again to tell me that the Secondary Cow-orker is behaving like a lunatic, but he hasn't been able to find out what she's been told that set her off.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)