Sunday, August 19, 2007

We are still here, you know.

That is what Senior Management said to me the other day. Not in so many words. Nor, indeed, directly to my face. Nope. A directive came down to me, through the ranks. At precisely the time when I was thinking, "Gosh, I wonder what all the senior management folk are up to today, in their big offices. Filming their bottoms, maybe, with the videoconferencing gear."

Suddenly a piece of paper that I'd worked on six months ago and forgotten about, thinking it all to be signed off, landed on my desk, courtesy of my immediate supervisor. "They want this bit changed, and can you insert these two words here?" said el jefe.

They were tiny changes, which took me five minutes and which made absolutely no semantic difference to the text.

Sometimes I think senior management get a map of the building with everyone's desk on it, stick a needle in it and say:
"Who shall we piss off today? Oh look, it's an EO. Let's give them some meaningless task to do, just to keep them thinking that we are working up here, and that we know what they are up to."

Cue image of senior managers sitting around a big table sniggering, the blood from the recently sacrificed chicken still coagulating on its surface.

Yes, guys, I know you're still there. Thank you for caring.

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