WMMC?

         Not quite ready to be fired again, damned fool that I am, I bolster my defenses and come up with some semblance of a plan.  It can't take much, right?  All I need to do is what each of those acrylic warriors in middle management do.  They manage.  They manage to get dressed every day.  They manage to endure being the subjects of berating conference calls every day.  They manage to utter smokescreens of excuses explaining missed metrics every day.  They manage to somehow keep their jobs every mind-blowing day.  My plan is to do as these managers do.  Get my superiors to lay out a step-by-step foolproof plan for success, follow it to the letter, and shrug my shoulders when the numbers don't add up.  Managers never get fired.  Ever.  And this is exactly how they do it.

         "Come in Mr. Jason!"  Cock Bombay is fat-kid-with-cake excited about this meeting.  "Take the seat there, brother.  What do I owe to this pleasure?"

          His feigned deference and bowing to me convince me that he was once on the receiving end of such behavior back in India.  His parody of humility ends and lowers his shit-eating grin to a level just below that of my own.

         "I need your help."  It doesn't kill me to say it as much as you might think.
         "Oh wow, now!  What is the surprise I see to have here!"  He's not at a loss for words, but their order is questionable.  His palm pledges allegiance to his mustard tie and he closes his eyes. "My help?"

          I stop him and continue while I still can "Yes, I'm having a bad month.  I feel like there aren't enough hours in the day to hit my numbers.  I feel like I'm helping everyone else in the store and my numbers are suffering.  I figured we could maybe come up with a game plan together.   And maybe I need a little motivation to get back on top again.  It's hard because I have this supposed seniority, but the new scheduling system arbitrarily selects a schedule--so that doesn't help me feel valued.  And I get paid the same as every new rep in here!  It's hard to get excited when my talents aren't being used and I feel like the best parts of me are being wasted here."

          I don't know what happened, I started sticking with my plan and here I am spewing out, of all things, the truth!

          His smile goes flaccid and he leans back in his executive business chair.  He closes his eyes and summons his fingertips to his face to rub out the answer.  There's no training class for this.  No certificates on these walls license him to deal with personal concerns from his staff.  He rubs as if to ask his magic crystal ball face, what would the Bobble Head Do?!? 

          I reach back and grab the office door.  Open-close-open-close-open-close I reintroduce oxygen to the room.  His eyes open and he is bright red and serious.

         "I don't want to sound like the broken tape here," he begins and I know I'm in for it.  "As manager, I don't control the schedule.  I don't control the pay!  And I can't control the motivation!"  He breathes and swivels around in his chair, looking around the room.

         "But I am going to help you." He reaches for a book from the tiny shelf above his desk.  "I have some good adwice for you."

          He puts the small, square book in front of me and continues, "The life is full of changes.  If you want to be a great leader, you have to follow the directive.  For me, I want to be the President someday! That's right!  But you can bet it on the bottom of the line, I must follow the directive to get there!  And at the end of the day, only you can be the motivation in your life." He points into the cover of the little square book with his index finger as he makes this last point on motivation.  He leans back again but this time keeps eye-contact with me to tell me he's done.
          Well, this was fun.  
          I'm dizzy, but manage to stand and make my exit.
         "Thanks.  You're totally right."  I pick up the book from his desk.  "I'm glad we're on the same page in understanding what our job responsibilities are where they, apparently, end."
          What's left to manage after pay, schedule and motivation??
         "I just need to work harder," I resolve.  He gives a satisfied grin.  To him, our session has been a runaway success.

          Leaving the room and crossing the sales floor, I look down at my new copy of Who Moved My Cheese?  I shake my head and go to read the next name from the list.