Corporate Crap and Other Dubious Wisdom

s hot as it is today the sand feels cooler as he digs his bare toes deeper down.  This is one of his favorite things to do in the desert.  He stands with his naked back to the sun looking towards the high rock wall he had scaled wondering if today is the day.  Turning slowly towards the sun he begins walking again.

With the sharp curious eyes of the young,  he sees the jackrabbit ahead turn and stand motionless watching him.  With a twitch of its ears, the rabbit dashes behind a small dune barely visible once again behind a scrub bush.  Careful to avoid the thorns on the brush and unconsciously stepping around the devils claws half buried in the sand, the little seven year old continues his slow walk into the desert.  Glancing over his shoulder he notices that the jack rabbit has risen to its hind legs, nose twitching in the air, ears erect, perhaps testing the boys passage.

A small lizard rushes from his path towards a clump of tumbleweed, its tail like a little rudder in the sand leaving a track in the lizard's wake.  If the boy wished to he could probably catch the lizard as he had several before, but he really had no desire to harm the creature.  Others he had captured had not seemed happy to be taken home to share with his mother and sisters so he had returned them soon to their desert.  He remembered one whose tail had been left wriggling in the sand, remembered thinking it must have hurt.  Then his teacher had told him that some lizards left their tails behind to distract predators while they escaped.  Still, it must have hurt.

Carefully smoothing the sand and brushing the debris aside with his foot, the boy remembers how his mother had complained about the sand he tracked into the house.  Sitting now in the sparce shade of a clump of brush he slowly empties each cuff of his jeans of their load, listening to the sound of the hot wind through the dry branches of the brush.  Closing his eyes he wonders if the wild Indians his mother says he is related to ever sat where he is and rested.  Daydreaming now, pictures of Cochise and Geronimo remembered from his books float through his mind and drift off again with the wind.

Through the whisper of wind and imagined voices of his heroes another sound draws his attention.  A sort of buzzing sound, but more like a stick quickly shaken in dry leaves.  Slowly opening his eyes he searched for the source of the sound settling finally at the base of the bush a few feet away to his left.

Apparently, the young rattler had also taken its rest in the shade of the bushes, away from the scorching hot sun, or perhaps it was simply waiting for its evening meal to wander by.  Either way it doesn't seem pleased to share its refuge with the boy, yet also doesn't keep up a constant buzzing tail but pauses as if uncertain, its tongue flickering, tasting the air between them, the few rattles on its small tail alternately quiet then vibrating.

The boy remembers the look on his mother's face the last time he had brought a snake home to share with them.  His father said even the babies could make him very sick although they hadn't seemed inclined to bite him.  This one isn't acting very friendly but at least appeares to be willing to keep its distance, although the boy knows that could change.  As the sun is falling closer to the horizon and dinner time nearer, one of them will have to make a decision. (more Crap…)

ver 30 years ago, when I returned from another land when my tour of duty was over, I was met at the airport by an ironic contradiction in attitudes; Moonies preaching peace on one side of the exit, and long-haired hippies on the other side throwing garbage at us and spitting words like "baby killers".  Neither had a clue of course, but both stung nonetheless.

Our war started out pretty much like the one in Iraq.  Everyone was gung-ho for the first couple of years.  The public was behind the ‘Police Action' 100%.  After all, there were people in this world who needed us to defend them because they were being bullied, tortured, and murdered.  Their country was being overrun and they needed our help–but then the Americans and some of our allies started getting killed and the numbers kept climbing.  Public opinion changed pretty quickly after that.

hose of us who defended ourselves, our country, our way of life, and our countries policies, were now asked to be ashamed of what we had done.  Although few ever actually committed any dishonorable acts, for some reason the folks at home suddenly treated us like we had.  The folks who had sent us there in the first place I guess had forgotten why we were there.  Somehow the soldiers were to blame.  Well, at least there were the yellow ribbons for some of us when we got home.

Is any of this beginning to sound familiar?  Like maybe we've been here before?

Let there be no mistake.  War is not a fun place to be.  Nobody in their right mind ever wants to be in a war.  War is hungry, dirty, loud, painful, more bloody that you can possibly imagine, and watching your friends die around you is something no one could ever forget.  The folks on the front line in a war don't get rich, mostly they just get hurt or worse.  They can consider themselves lucky if they ever make it back to their nice snug little homes in America, and if they're extremely lucky they can even make it back home with all the body parts they left with.  All the parts notwithstanding–they will never be the same again.  This is the price they pay for serving their country, while all of us complain about the price of gas and bitch about taxes, safe in front of our TV sets with our bellies full of food.

I have only a few words for people who disrespect the sacrifices our soldiers make, many of whom will never again enjoy the very way of life they have upheld.

Burn in Hell.

have written a lot over the years about bullying in the workplace, primarily from an employees standpoint. There is, of course, another side of the issue. What if the bully is an employee who is bullying the company?

We have all seen the stories on TV and in the newspaper of some poor soul who has been sexually harassed by his or her boss. It may not be the most frequent form of bullying, but it does sell newspapers, and it does serve as a deterrent to other would-be bullies that our society has finally reached zero tolerance on this issue. The other side of the coin is that we have also empowered some employees to use this as a lever to get what they want. When a mere accusation can ruin careers and result in dragging an entire company through the mud, the tendency is for a company to handle things as quickly and quietly as possible. Promoting the accuser and firing the accused might be cheaper in the long run than the bad publicity, or an in-depth investigation by a government agency. There are other ways an employee can get what they want–other than simply doing a good job.

ne of the biggest boons to America's labor force has probably been the advent of the union. There is no question that a good union negotiates better benefits and treatment for their employee members. Once again, this can empower unscrupulous employees to take advantage of the power of the union by threatening to run to the union when they don't get their own way. What department head wants to go through intense scrutiny because of a disgruntled employees accusations of perceived unfair treatment?

The vast majority of our workers are honest, hardworking folks who want no more than an honest wage for an honest days work. It is not often the bully (or in this case blackmailer of sorts) who pays in the end, but those of us who simply go to work every day expecting to just be able to do our jobs without being manipulated. Two of the main goals of a bully are to avoid actually having to do any real work, and to make certain they control everyone around them. If you happen to be in the way your options may be pretty limited. Document everything-and keep your resume updated.