Writing about the workplace is merely opinion, and opinions are like, well, bald spots, which most of we male managers have. However, given a forum to pontificate, I rage mightily against the commonplace, such things as lateness.
A friend in the publishing business often said that what newspapers lacked was sustained rage. He was referring to corruption. My platform is not quite that broad, and to add to the chorus of naysayers in Ukraine merely reinforces expat stereotypes.
Therefore, I choose the topic of the workplace, and sally forth with some of my various pet peeves, idiosyncrasies and weird thoughts, some of which will surely come forth in a book to be published, most likely, in 2006.
Being five minutes late for a meeting is, in some circles, considered rude and inappropriate. In others, it is considered fashionably late. I don't do fashionably late. After 20 minutes, I think a death certificate should be issued.
The first object of a meeting is for everyone to show up at the same place at approximately the same time. What part of this nonscientific equation is difficult to understand? Lateness always says to the on-time business partner: "You're just dog meat, and don't you forget it."
Remember that throughout history, most battles were lost because someone didn't show up on time, whether it is the 101st Airborne Division, the Spartans, or, more recently in the case of Enron, Worldcom and others, an accountable board of directors. They were, as the saying goes, late for their own funeral.
Changing the subject, slightly, I am a firm believer in the 24-hour theory of work for the true professional, meaning simply that in our global village the paradigm of nine-to-six works only in places like France and Germany, where it is prescribed. They will eventually get over it.
If you don't accept my 24-hour theory, you also don't accept the principle behind disposable diapers or the fact that Britney Spears is no longer a virgin. Either put a foot solidly in the 21st century, or slip quietly and gently back into the Dark Ages. We all have to make choices.
Skipping to another hot topic, a CEO doesn't own anyone's time other than his own. This is a hard fact for many of us to come to grips with. We rent time from our colleagues within that 24-hour span. The more freedom the employee has to allocate his paid time within that period, the better value the boss will receive. This enables the employee to make certain personal, real-life decisions, giving him - and God I hate this word - a certain "empowerment."
Are you still with me on my sustained rage?
Let's face it, not all professionals are professionals. They have over-reached in life and are sucking up that rarefied air meant only for the true professional, the one who realizes that with work freedom comes work responsibilities.
I call these non-professionals pilot fish. They are easily recognized by the way they attach themselves to larger fish, but, sadly, have a difficult time being acclimated back to the shallow end of the pool. Take them by the fin and lead them, slowly.
As a leader, it is necessary that you show up for your own meetings - and show up first. Forget about making that swaggering entrance as the Grand Pasha of the Royal Order of CEOs. Remember, your wife has been nagging about having her personalized pink BMW. Being late for your own meeting won't help in the effort to make the down payment. If this is a judgment call for you, then you really aren't CEO material.
I'm just getting warmed up.
Conference calls are meant to save time and money, but quite often accomplish neither. A few conference call rules:
1. Limit the number of participants to less than those who attended the last Olympics in Athens; 2. Have a written agenda and, at the very least, a basic goal for what you hope to achieve during the call, even if it is simply to purchase a company bicycle; and,
3. Insist that no one can join the call after the telephonic meeting begins. When it comes to consultants, you will find an amazing number of them dial in at the precise time if they think there is the slightest chance they will lose a quarter-hour of billable time.
Finally, my mega-complaint. Business travelers need a union.
I am not talking about one of those powder-puff associations, but a real Teamsters crossed with United Mine Workers crossed with the Rabid Dog Union Local 2212. We need to get the attention of airlines, hotels and other services that cater to businesses. They need to do a better job.
It is about comfort, not food. It is about sufficient space to pull out a laptop, not about heated hand and face towels.
The business warrior is the galley slave of the 21st century. He or she journeys forth, country to country, without an adequate support system. You can almost hear the drum keeping rhythm with oars slapping water.
But this topic is really a subject for another column on another day. One can only keep sustained rage going for just so long.
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