The Corporate Runs

What Do You Do Here?

It was not unusual to find a senior engineer's door closed. In Freddie's case, his colleagues would often encounter a hand-scrawled yellow-sticky placed at eye level on his closed door:

e-mail
OnlY!

Even though the camel-cased scratching itself could be mistaken for something from the 100 Acres Wood, it was taken very seriously. Would-be disturbers of the peace needed to weigh their agenda against what went on behind Freddie's door: the business of the company. On the other hand, e-mailing Freddie usually meant that a request for information would sit in his inbox just long enough to become either solved without Freddie's intervention, or outdated and therefore irrelevant.

Seeing that sticky up on Freddie's door gave Jerry a big, warm fuzzy. Jerry was Freddie's immediate supervisor, and the yellow note meant Freddie was engineering at a level of concentration that only quiet, uninterrupted solitude could foster. In fact, every time Freddie posted his anti-welcome mat, it sent a clear signal that Jerry's was a no-nonsense team of serious-minded, deep thinkers dedicated to getting the job done. A minor realignment of an already relativist morality ("good manners") seemed like a small price to pay for the bottom line.

But yellow-sticky or no, Jerry needed Freddie now. As he stood in front of Freddie's door, Jerry was so engrossed in his rationale that he didn't notice the muffled talk, music, and clicking sounds coming from behind Freddie's door. He rapped a quick three times, then turned an ear toward the door when all the muffled sounds came to a quick stop. After a moment, he heard a muted but irritable admonition: "Go away!"

Having already committed to the importance of the interruption, Jerry put his hand on the door handle, pushed it down, and made a crack just big enough to put his head through. His intention was to apologize, and to let Freddie know something had come up that would need his immediate attention. Jerry never got his whole apology out and was quite unprepared for what he saw when he leaned into the office.

Jerry was a handsome, hygienic kind of guy who looked as though he didn't miss many company picnic softball games. He appeared so clean-cut that Freddie was only half joking whenever he ribbed Jerry about shaving after lunch time to avoid any chance of an actual five-o'clock shadow. Now, Jerry saw Freddie around a green-felt covered table in what was unmistakably a game of cards. Probably poker.

As Jerry stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his face registered a mix of confusion and hurt. Freddie seemed embarrassed, and suggested that there might be a free chair in the office across the hall and that he was sure the other players wouldn't mind dealing Jerry into the game.

Jerry looked slowly around the table, where he spotted another developer from his team, his test manager, a person he recognized as being from another division in the company, and a young man he had never seen before. Jerry moved closer to the felt, but the young man never looked up at him as he fidgeted with the few remaining chips in front him. Jerry couldn't help noticing that the young, nervous man was wearing a special visitor's badge marked "Interview Candidate."

To break the silence, Freddie suggested that while Jerry was getting the extra chair from across the hall, maybe he could get some drinks from the kitchen and started taking (and receiving) drink orders from the players. Jerry was still standing in the middle of the office in a daze, and Freddie looked directly at him while he tallied up the drink orders (two diet sodas, a tangerine-flavored sparkling water and a tomato juice). He then asked whether Jerry got it all -- and could he get the drinks soon, since the crew was parched.

With a steady calm, Jerry asked whether Freddie wouldn't mind coming with him to get the drinks, because he had a few things he wanted to talk about. Freddie was firm, however, in turning down the suggestion; he was, after all, in the middle of a hand and he was dealing the next one, so it wouldn't be right for him to interrupt the game. Nodding his head, Jerry said he understood perfectly, repeated the drink order, and started to toward the door.

Before he turned the door handle, Jerry paused, in his words, "just to confirm the obvious." Noting Freddie's gracious hosting skills, Jerry asked if this poker game being held, as it were, in Freddie's office in the middle of a work day was in fact set up as a way to interview a candidate for a job opening. Freddie wasted no time in strongly denying the idea. In fact, he adamantly insisted that was not the case at all. The game was planned well before he realized he was double-booked with an interview of a candidate and that it was a rather spontaneous decision to "deal the candidate in," because, Freddie ruminated, "You'll never get to know a guy faster than watching him sweat through game of high-low." Jerry thanked him for clearing that up, and shut the door very gently as he left the room.

By the time Jerry returned, the candidate was no longer in the game. According to Caroline, Jerry's test manager, the candidate had run out of money, so they "sent him packing." As Jerry passed the drinks around the table, she further quipped, "Who comes to a job interview with only fifty bucks?" Jerry watched the other players howl in laughter, and eventually he moved one side of his mouth upward toward a grin.

As he was buying chips and being dealt into his first hand, Jerry let Freddie know that he still had something important to go discuss, and asked what a good time might be because email just wasn't the best way to deal with this particular problem.

"No time like the present," Freddie proffered with a lame grin of his own. Jerry was clearly uncomfortable discussing this with the others present, but Freddie insisted they cover the ground right there, right then.

Jerry started by reminding Freddie of the latest rounds of reorgs, which landed Jerry's group in yet another part of the company with yet another set of upper management newbies to whom Jerry was now reporting. He went on to characterize the ongoing transition as fairly smooth, adding that he didn't think the team as a whole would be affected by the new management.

"So what's the problem, Jerry?" Freddie asked.

"Well, at one point, the new managers were surprised to hear that you were part of my team, and they asked what it is that you do. I mean, what you actually do, here at the company." Jerry was choosing his words very carefully.

But Freddie saw trouble coming, and he became very stern, almost scolding: "And what exactly did you tell them, Jerry?"

"You see, that's the thing because the whole question kind of took me by surprise"

Freddie put his cards face down on the table and started to rise out of his seat.

"Tell me what you told them, Jerry. Tell me right now. Don't make me hurt you."

"Well, I... I... told them I don't know what you do!" Jerry blurted out.

Freddie slammed the table and poker chips went flying.

"What were you thinking, Jerry?" he hollered.

Jerry tried to be resolute, but it wasn't working very well as he stammered through his end of the conversation: "But the fact is: I don't actually know what it is you do here."

Caroline and the other players felt an overwhelming urge to leave, but that desire was eclipsed by the need to see where the conversation would go. Perhaps it was the same reason people slow to get a glimpse at accidents, or perhaps it was because they dared to imagine that they, too, might learn what Freddie did at the company.

By now, Freddie was standing with head in his hands.

"How could you let this happen, Jerry? We have new management every eight weeks, and this has never happened before. What are we going to do now?"

"Look, Freddie. I told you it just came out of the blue, when Jose said he knew you."

Jerry stopped short as Freddie put his hand up and showed Jerry his palm. This was the first time Freddie realized what the new org looked like, and he was shocked. His expression turned from anger to reflection as he sat down to contemplate the implications.

"Jose? We work for Jose? He's got a hundred dollar marker out to me for a game three months ago. If he thinks he can welch..."

Jerry was gaining real confidence now, not simply trying it on. "You see, I could have used that information when I talked to Jose."

"Help me, here Jerry. What do we do?" Freddie asked with genuine concern.

"I'm really sorry, Freddie, but have you thought about actually doing something?"

Freddie was enraged again.

"Do something like what? Are you insane?"

Jerry took over: "I'm getting an idea here. Run with this for just a minute, feel free to poke holes, or tell me I'm crazy. Jose might be inspired to forget about pinning down your role if the next time you decide to fleece a job candidate for fifty bucks, you let Jose in on the game." Jerry let those words hang in the air and stared directly at Freddie.

Caught off guard, Freddie pondered the idea with a crunched brow. All of a sudden he caught Jerry's gaze. He looked back, gravely suspicious. Then his eyes grew wide with revelation as the corners of Jerry's mouth slowly arched up, and his face disappeared behind a Cheshire grin. With an emotional cocktail mix equal parts relief and disgust, Freddie wagged his finger at Jerry "You're a very naughty boy!"

"I'm naughty? How could you cut me out of the action, Freddie?" Jerry asked rhetorically. "What goes through your mind?"

Freddie hemmed and hawed at being caught, but ultimately didn't try to make excuses.

Caroline and the other players were finally catching on to what Jerry had been doing all along, and they alternated between stupefaction and awe.

The game progressed, and Freddie complained half-heartedly as his hands got progressively worse and more of his profits flowed to Jerry, who eventually walked away with a healthy profit despite arriving late to the game. After cashing his chips out, he thanked Freddie and left. On his way out, he left the door open and removed the yellow sticky from the front.