Cheesy Goodness
Jan 30th, 2006 at 9:15 am by Susie
Several years ago, when I was an actual department head and made a decent paycheck, I learned my company was about to merge with our archrival. (As any of you who have been through it already know, mergers rank high on the life-stress charts.) And of course, our sales department were all promptly issued copies of the excreable “Who Moved My Cheese?”, the shut-up-and-sit-down handbook for corporate serfs. [Link via Avedon.]
I remember having a meeting with my boss out at corporate headquarters, where she was still recovering from the news that the sales VP (her mentor) had just resigned. “I was so surprised to hear that,” she said. “Weren’t you?”
“Um, actually, no. I won the office pool on it,” I said.
“Oh.”
We sat there a moment and I said, “You know, L., I’m getting pretty damned tired of people moving my fucking cheese.”
And instead of rebuking me for my language, as would have been typical, she sighed. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Happy Monday, cube rats.
Think I’ll drive out to one of my outlier installations - nice sixty mile drive along the east front of the Cascades, a lot of sunshine, flip off a few Hummers… dink around for thirty or forty minutes, drive back!
Thanks for the link.
I like to think of the southeast half of Spain in mid-1936. A hell of a lot of bosses and landlords, having just learned for the first time how it felt to be at the other end of the cheese-moving process, fled for their lives to Franco country.