Wait. Is it JUNE?
The week started out normal enough.
Derek and Bob were arguing over where the fire extinguishers should be placed. Derek wanted an arrangement that “looked cool” while Bob preferred an arrangement that “provided safety.” They could not meet halfway. Secretly, Bob was also irritated because no one — NO ONE — had said anything about his new ponytail hairdo.
Meanwhile, Chachi was ensconced in denim AND enjoying new denim carpeting in his cubicle. (As noted last week, he loves denim.)
And Ann was conducting some Internet research on a personal matter.
Suddenly Ted burst onto the scene. “Coach Kent just pulled up to the building!” he yelled.
Indeed, Coach Kent was outside, trying to find a parking spot.
The employees started to freak out.
Coach Kent is a motivational business consultant who is in charge of making sure Hedger Corp. stays on track to meet its 2011 corporate goals.
The staff knew Coach Kent was supposed to lead a “Mid-Year Review” workshop, but that had to be months away! What month was it, anyway? April? Was it already April?
The employees had no idea. There is no calendar in the office and no one had really been keeping track of the time.
Well, actually there IS a calendar in the office. But it belongs to Derek and he keeps it hidden.
He doesn’t even use it as a calendar. He doctored the pictures, and now he just sits in front of it, imagining the day when he and Chachi, his idol, will become Best Friends Forever.
Unfortunately for the staff, it’s NOT April, it’s JUNE.
And that means it’s time for a mid-year review. Hence, Coach Kent.
Once they figured this out, they entered into panic mode.
There WAS a corporate goal. They knew there was a corporate goal. They had come up with it at the Goal Setting Workshop in December.
But what was it?
Luckily, Coach Kent likes to engage in a number of stretches and warm-ups before he leads a workshop, so they figured they had about 30 minutes before he arrived in the office. Thirty minutes to remember the goal and then achieve 50% of it.
The room was quiet as everyone concentrated.
Then Ann broke the silence. “Leverage!” she shouted.
Yes! That sounded right. The goal had something to do with leveraging. Ted volunteered to be the whiteboard guy, and captured the thought.
“Has anyone leveraged anything this year?” he asked desperately. “Anyone?”
The employees were deep in thought. Leverage… leverage…
Then Derek, seemingly possessed by an invisible corporate force, spoke another word: “OPTIMIZE.”
Optimize! That sounded familiar too!
Ted got to work.
Now what had to be optimized? And how did that impact the leveraging?
Hmm…
For a hopeful moment the employees wondered if maybe they could optimize leverage. Kill two birds with one stone. Could leverage be optimized? Or were those words both verbs? It was hard to tell. But it seemed like “optimizing leverage” was something that could be done… if everyone worked together.
Mercifully, Derek offered another idea: “Chachi’s cubicle is optimized,” he said. “Let’s put that down as an accomplishment.”
This was true. Chachi’s cube was unquestionably awesome. Not only did he have the whole denim carpet thing, he had recently added a baby shark to his fish tank.
They felt good that they had identified an optimized thing. But Coach Kent would probably be expecting more.
“We are leveraging a lot of fire-retardant devices,” Sue said.
Good point, Sue. Ted captured the input.
Somehow the summary of accomplishments still felt a little thin.
Then Derek remembered something. They had established TWO goals during the Goal Setting Workshop — and one of them was to learn the moonwalk.
In a flash, it all came back. Yes. This was correct. Derek had a natural ability to moonwalk, and he was supposed to be teaching the others how to do it. It was one of the 2011 corporate goals.
Derek began lessons immediately.
Derek tried his best, but everyone struggled. The moonwalk is hard. There is no getting around that.
But then, out of nowhere, Ted busted out with the move. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know why. But suddenly he was moonwalking. And doing it really well.
He was afraid to stop. He was fully in the zone, and when you’re in the zone, you don’t stop.
So he kept moonwalking in a big circle.
He jotted down whatever notes he could as he moonwalked past the whiteboard.
Sue went to check on Coach Kent and returned with alarming news. He seemed to be finishing his warm-up exercises. That meant he would be arriving in the office any minute!
Full panic set in. There had been no leveraging. No optimizing. Yes, there was one incredible moonwalk demonstration – still ongoing – but that was IT!
What were they going to do?
Just then Grandma Bernice strolled in.
The room fell silent. It seemed like Grandma Bernice might have some advice. Some words of wisdom, gleaned from 80+ years on this planet, that would make everything all right.
“What the HELL happened to your hair, son?” she yelled at Bob.
Next week: Coach Kent arrives on the scene, ready to talk business. But the meeting does not go the way the employees expect. Not at all.
Note that the story will appear Monday, July 4. (Three days later than usual.) No, we’re not planning some big 4th of July surprise. Hedger Corp. just has a conflict next weekend. So Monday it is! The boss has spoken!
How the Office Redesign Went Down
This week, Derek, Bob and Ann finally returned from their counseling sessions.
They walked in, ready to take their first coffee break of the day, but then they stopped in their tracks. What was that awful smell?
Sue welcomed them back, and explained that a terrible odor had taken over the office. She advised them to buy face masks.
Ted listened to the conversation and tried not to get involved.
Did he smell the smell? Of course he did. It was terrible. Was he going to admit it? No way. Because he knew the source of the trouble…
He had been bringing his dog, Mr. Bojangles, to work with him.
This was strictly against Hedger Corp policy, but Ted had been through some pretty rough times recently…
And Mr. Bojangles was his rock.
The problem was that Mr. Bojangles was always thirsty, so Ted was constantly having to give him water.
And when Ted was off at meetings, Mr. Bojangles would take care of business on the office carpet.
This had been going on for some time, and the smell was reaching epic levels. Chachi was especially distressed. Right after Bob, Derek and Ann returned, Chachi dragged himself into the breakroom to make an announcement.
He told everyone that he had called an “Office Rejuvenator” to come and re-do the office. New carpet. New walls. Whatever was needed to get rid of the smell. Upon hearing this news, Ted sprinted toward his cube. He needed to hide Mr. Bojangles before the Office Rejuvenator arrived and started poking around!
Minutes later, the Rejuvenator entered. He carried a briefcase and a gun.
Without a word, he set the gun down and opened his briefcase. He took out a lint-remover and placed it on the table.
“This office smells like someone ate asparagus, then went number one all over!” he declared.
Then he continued: “I am going to rip everything out. Then I will suggest several new designs for your office. These designs will be shocking, impressive and edgy, much like a GUN.” To underscore the metaphor, he held up his gun.
“Right now your office is tired, boring and sad, like a lint remover!” he said, as he balanced the lint remover on his arms.
“We’re going to move this place from lint remover to GUN!” he declared. “Now get out of here! I have work to do!”
The employees began to evacuate. Ted hid Mr. Bojangles in an overnight envelope that he found in Bob’s cube. It had a bunch of papers in it, and was addressed to a company in India.
It would be bad if Mr. Bojangles was accidentally shipped to India, thought Ted. It would be really bad.
Ted started to hyperventilate as he imagined what would occur. There would be a tracking number, so he could see exactly where Mr. Bojangles was during transit. But what would happen when he arrived in India? Would the workers there regularly quench Mr. Bojangles’ thirst and let him sip out of a mug? Likely not. They would probably shove a doggy bowl at him. Ted shuddered.
The moment Ted stepped outside he set the envelope down and told Mr. Bojangles, “You are free now. Go wait for me by my car, little buddy.”
Mr. Bojangles gave Ted a look that said, “Thank you for not letting me be shipped to India.”
Ted returned that look with a look that said, “I would never let that happen.”
Then Mr. Bojangles returned that look with a look that said, “I think I had an accident on the papers in this envelope.”
And Ted gave him a look back that said, “That is okay. These papers are Bob’s, and I don’t care about them at all.”
While all this non-verbal communication was happening, the other employees waited for the Office Rejuvenator to return.
Finally, he kicked the door open. “Are you ready to see what a ‘gun’ design looks like, you lint-rollers?!” he asked.
Curious, the gang headed back into the building.
The second they entered the breakroom they found themselves ensconced in cow hide. The only remaining item of furniture was the water cooler.
They took it all in.
The smell of the cowhide was noticeable. It was nowhere near as bad as the other smell. But still… not great.
Then Chachi rolled in, and seemed highly disturbed by the whole thing.
“Depart!” yelled the Office Rejuvenator. “I will prepare option 2!”
Once again, the staff found themselves waiting outside. Chachi was enjoying the cowhide-free air.
Then they were summoned back into the building.
The second attempt involved many colors and patterns. Perhaps too many. Derek found himself instantly overwhelmed and fell over like a tree.
Then his leg shot off his body. Was this unnerving leg injury caused by the room design? No one could say for sure. But it seemed like a bad sign.
Everyone went home at that point, and Derek, clutching his leg, hopped to the doctor.
The next day they reviewed option 3, a simpler design. It was an all-black room. And the only thing in the room was an out-of-order copy machine.
Option number 4 was similar, except that the copy machine was gone and in its place was a toilet.
A toilet would be more productive than a busted copy machine, but the employees were concerned about the lack of walls. Did they really want an open, co-ed toilet in the middle of the breakroom? Might that invite some awkward moments?
On the following day, the Office Rejuvenator unveiled option 5.
Unfortunately, Bob happened to be wearing a sweater with the same pattern.
Everyone agreed they did NOT want an office modeled after Bob’s clothing.
Finally, on Thursday it was time to see option 6. With denim flooring and a huge mural that captured the company’s spirit, option 6 became the clear front runner.
Chachi especially appreciated the floor. (He LOVES denim.)
But they all agreed the mural was too much. Too shocking, too edgy, too… gun. They employees asked the Office Rejuvenator to show them what a “lint remover” design might look like. Just for comparison’s sake.
The Rejuvenator delivered the bland concept, certain it would convince the employees to try one of the other options. Other than new flooring, the “lint-remover” option was almost identical to what they’d had before. BORING!!
Alas… the staff loved it. Without question, it was the design they wanted — even if it was the boring, “lint-remover” option.
As they employees celebrated their “new” look, the Office Rejuvenator leaned over a table, and prepared to throw up.
Later, Hedger Corp. received a bill for all the improvement work. It was $215,040 over budget and something about it seemed a touch… emotional. At least as far as invoices are concerned. Or maybe it was just our imagination.
Next week: When Coach Kent arrives to conduct a mid-year performance review, the staff is forced to remember what goals they were supposed to be achieving.
Ann’s Secret
[Haven’t been keeping up? You may want to read Cone Full of Trouble and Counseling Begins first.]
So whatever happened with Ann?
Last we saw, a therapist crashed his car into her house…
… then he set up his stuff in her living room. He pulled out some Rorschach tests.
“Well, Ann?” he said. “What do you see?”
Ann hesitated. Should she answer honestly?
Because the honest answer was that she saw ponies.
Lots and lots of ponies.
In fact, lately she was seeing ponies pretty much everywhere she looked.
She didn’t want to admit it, but ponies were taking over her life.
The trouble began a couple years ago, when she purchased her house…
The real estate agent had been showing her around the property, pointing out all the wonderful features. The custom tile work in the bathroom…
The built-in shelves in the living room.
Ann was smitten. This seemed like the perfect house for her.
But why was the price so low?
Then the agent took her out back and explained that the house came with a dozen ponies.
Ponies?
Ann considered this. It was unusual, yes. But was it a deal breaker?
“They add such charm to the property,” the Realtor enthused. “All that frolicking and prancing about! It’s entrancing! Precious! Calming but invigorating!”
Ann was deep in thought. A few ponies. How bad could it be? “I want to make an offer on this house,” she said.
The Realtor seemed inappropriately overjoyed and relieved to hear this news. “THANK GOD!” she whispered.
A month later the deal was final. As Ann was moving in, the agent dropped by to give her a large handbook called “Caring for the Ponies.”
“You’ll need this right away,” she said, avoiding Ann’s eyes. Then she quickly strode out of the house. By the time she reached the driveway she was running.
Ann opened the handbook and began to read. “Brush each pony 48 times per day, in concentric circles. Counter-clockwise only. Use a brush made of 100% gold,” the manual began.
Hmm. That seemed a tad inconvenient.
Unfortunately, the instructions got worse from there.
As Ann learned in the manual, the ponies only ate glitter. Silver glitter. The expensive brand-name kind, not generic glitter.
They only drank ice-cold Miller Light.
They DID NOT DRINK BUD LIGHT. Bud Light was upsetting to them, as Ann learned the hard way.
Each pony had to sleep on a 100% silk bed, with a fresh marshmallow as a pillow.
And before bed, they HAD to watch House Hunters International on HGTV.
This part was fine… at first. Ann liked House Hunters International. But after a while she and the ponies had seen every episode like five times. She became sick of it. “They’re going to pick house number three!” she would shout at the ponies. “We’ve SEEN THIS BEFORE! Don’t you REMEMBER??”
The ponies ignored her, entranced by the program. When the couple indeed picked house #3, they seemed surprised and delighted.
Ann followed all the instructions in the pony handbook. And the ponies took to her right away. During the first week things actually seemed promising. Ann was somewhat overwhelmed, but she thought the ponies were cute. Pretty darn cute.
Cute turned to claustrophobic pretty quickly.
The ponies would not leave her alone. Sometimes Ann would hide behind the backyard shed, just to steal a moment of privacy.
But the ponies would always find her.
Another problem was that they pretty much hated anyone who wasn’t Ann. At one point Ann tried to hire a pony caretaker.
She interviewed a lovely woman.
But when the ponies spotted her, they went berserk.
“Thank you for coming,” said Ann. “Would you like the job?”
“Not a chance in hell,” was the muffled reply.
It had been a long couple of years, but during the past few months Ann had been seriously considering an exit strategy. She had to get out of her pony duties once and for all.
She wrote some ideas down in her journal, but then the journal disappeared. Later she found it out with the ponies.
Had they READ the journal? Ponies couldn’t read, could they? She was almost sure they couldn’t.
And yet… was it just her imagination, or were the ponies acting strange? What was with all the secret meetings and hush-hush discussions?
Ann was jolted back to the present when the therapist yelled, “What is this?!”
The ponies had begun to circle.
The therapist wasted no time evacuating Ann’s house. He scrambled into his car, backed out of her entry hall, and took off across her lawn, the ponies in hot pursuit.
Ann watched him go.
Would he be able to out-run the ponies?
Maybe.
But probably not.
She was deeply disappointed that the therapy session had been cut short. She really needed some counseling. “The time has come,” thought Ann. “The pony situation needs to be resolved.”
But a solution would have to wait. Some of the ponies were back, and they wanted their ice-cold Miller Light. “Yes,” said Ann. “We could all use some ice-cold Miller Light. A lot of it.”
Next week: What does Ann do about the ponies? That is a story for another day. Next week we’re back in the office, where new carpet has everyone up in arms.
What Happened With Derek
Let’s check in with our friend Derek.
As you recall, Derek was ordered to complete a week of therapy following the “Cone of Solitude” debacle a few weeks ago. (His co-workers Bob and Ann are in therapy too, but today we focus on Derek.)
You may also recall that Derek’s therapist is a strange fellow who, as my friend Krista pointed out, looks a lot like Star Trek’s Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
Jean-Luc Picard Therapist
An uncanny resemblance! That would be cool, wouldn’t it? Imagine Derek joining the Star Trek crew. Wearing a cool Star Trek uniform. Hanging with Riker and the gang. Defending the Federation. I don’t really know what I’m talking about here. But it sounds awesome!
Sadly, Derek had no such luck. He was stuck with his weird therapist… in a counseling session that seemed like it would never end.
At one point the therapist struck a pose. He stood there, frozen in place and asked, “Would you rather I do this pose…”
He repositioned himself, then finished the sentence: “Or THIS pose?”
Derek rolled his eyes.
The therapist moved on to another question: “Would you rather purchase THIS sock?”
“Or THIS sock?”
Derek had no preference. Both socks were too wild for his taste.
No matter. The therapist didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he dashed out of the room, then returned pushing an enormous book. As he situated the book he asked, “Would you rather review the material in this book…?”
Then he shoved that book to the side and brought in another.
“Or THIS book?”
Derek’s heart sank. He preferred the “Would You Rather” book over “Principles of Naval Architecture, Volume 1: Stability and Strength.” But the therapist already seemed insanely fixated on “Would You Rather” questions. Derek had a feeling the book was only going to exacerbate the situation.
And he was right.
The therapist opened the Would You Rather book to page two and read aloud:
“Derek!” he yelled. “Would you rather have living eyebrows that crawl about your face
OR
leave a trail of paprika wherever you go?”
Then he produced a cue card to remind Derek of the question.
Living eyebrows? Paprika trail? What kind of therapy was this? Derek shut his eyes and prayed that when he opened them all this would be gone.
But the therapist would have none of it. “Derek!” he yelled again. “Listen carefully! This next one is complicated.”
Derek reluctantly opened his eyes.
The therapist read from page 103: “Would you rather become increasingly intelligent with the consumption of alcohol, but also become increasingly convinced you are Gloria Estefan
OR
have a firm grasp of Roman numerals but look exactly like Weird Al Yankovic?”
Hmm. That was a lot of information to take in. Derek found himself becoming distracted by the thought of Gloria Estefan’s song Conga. “Come on, shake your body baby, do the Conga,” he sang softly to himself.
He was interrupted by the therapist, who was now reading from page 100.
“Derek, would you rather be good with computers but have an incredibly moist left foot
OR
be regarded as the greatest diorama maker of all time but have a friendly midget permanently strapped to you, papoose style?”
Derek had no idea how to respond. But this time the therapist seemed to want an answer.
“Well, Derek?” he said impatiently.
Derek was irritated. Since when did he actually have to answer these ridiculous questions?
He needed a way out, so he asked to go to the bathroom. His request was granted.
Finally, he found some peace and quiet! But as he sat there, he began to think about the Would You Rather questions…
He thought about the whole computer/moist foot/diorama/midget question. He would love to be good with computers. That would be amazing. But was it worth having an incredibly moist left foot? Maybe it would be better to be the diorama maker, even with the little person strapped to him.
What did “incredibly moist” mean, anyway? How moist was incredibly moist?
And what about the whole Gloria Estefan question? It would be great to become increasingly intelligent with the consumption of alcohol. But it would be problematic to become increasingly convinced he was Gloria Estefan.
Would it be possible to drink enough alcohol to become intelligent without becoming Gloria? Where was that balance? How many drinks would that be?
Suddenly the bathroom door flew open. “Derek, do you need my assistance?” the therapist asked.
Derek jumped. What the?!! He could think of NO situation where the answer to that question would be “yes.”
Alas, it was clear that bathroom time was over. The two headed back up to the office, where the therapist had another question ready.
“Derek, would you rather gyrate spastically in front of your best friend’s parents for a full two minutes
OR
wear an obscenely revealing thong bathing suit to the beach?”
As Derek considered this, the therapist leaned forward with some insight.
“I’ve done both,” he said gravely. “And neither ended well.”
Derek shook his head. Surely this nonsense had to be ending soon.
“Now a question from page 12!” the therapist yelled.
“Would you rather always introduce yourself and others in the style of a professional wrestling announcer. ‘From parts unknown, weighing in at 155 pounds…!’
OR
have your legal name changed to Pumpy?”
As this burning question hung in the air, another man suddenly entered the room.
The therapist immediately stood up. “Dr. Neal!” he exclaimed.
The tall man slapped the therapist on the back. “Hello!” he said. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I see you have been taking care of my patient. Thank you for that.”
Derek froze. This new guy seemed like he might be the doctor. But then who was the bald guy?
“I see you met my assistant Patrick,” said Dr. Neal. “He’s a bit of an inquisitive chap, I’m afraid.”
Dr. Neal stood up and bent down to Derek’s level. “Derek,” he said, “I am here to help you with your many, many issues. Together we will explore your deepest fears and dreams. I will be asking you very difficult questions. Questions that will seem too personal, but your honesty is essential. While you are here you will talk to me, you will draw pictures, you will journal, you will compose a heartfelt song or poem.”
He lightly patted Derek’s back. “You will cry,” he said gently. “You may even sob. This is normal. You are safe here. I want you to let it all out.”
Suddenly Patrick spoke up.
“OR!” he yelled. “Would you rather hang out with ME in the reception area and continue to ponder deep questions.”
“Shhh…” said Dr. Neal, still patting Derek’s back. “Patrick, he doesn’t want to do that. He needs to cry some things out.”
“Derek!” Patrick yelled again, “What would you rather do?”
It was the easiest question Derek had been asked all day.
Moments later he was settled into the reception area, mulling over the Gloria Estefan/alcohol question. But Patrick was already on to other pressing matters. “Derek!” he yelled. “Would you rather fight Mike Tyson or talk like him?”
Next week: What has Ann been hiding? During therapy her secret is finally revealed — and you won’t guess what it is.
What Happened With Bob
Bob wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the “therapist” had shown up in his bedroom. Days? Weeks?
Years?
It felt like years.
One thing was for sure: the situation was deteriorating rapidly.
After closely examining Bob’s CHiPs poster, the therapist brandished a pair of scissors. A few strategic cuts later, Bob’s beloved poster became a tunic-style t-shirt.
It greatly pleased the therapist, but thoroughly upset Bob.
Bob tried to curl up under the covers — to find peace and escape the madness.
Meanwhile, the therapist found Bob’s CD player. He turned the volume all the way up and pushed play. For a second there was silence. Bob tried to remember what CD he’d left in there…
Then the song “Rock Me Amadeus” started blaring out of the speakers.
The therapist stood perfectly still, listening. Letting the music wash over him. Then suddenly, he launched into an intense dance.
When the song ended, the therapist pushed the “repeat” button. Rock Me Amadeus continued on a constant loop for the next three hours–and the intense dance routine grew even more intense. More unsettling.
Bob desperately wished he had some sort of firearm. Alas, his two guns were back at the office. One had been used in an unsuccessful attempt to kill a spider…
And the other one was temporarily serving as the office pointer.
Perhaps there were other loaded weapons he’d forgotten about? Bob decided to check under his bed.
The only thing he found was a pair of ladies spa slippers that he’d mistakenly purchased years ago and forgotten to return.
In a flash, the therapist ripped the slippers out of Bob’s hands and tried them on.
Then he resumed his Rock Me Amadeus dance.
Bob crawled back under the covers. Slowly, and in spite of the blaring music, he began to drift off to sleep…
When he awoke later, the room was silent. He opened his eyes.
Things did not appear to be heading in a good direction.
Bob jumped out of bed and backed away from the fire and weird sculpture. He had no idea what the therapist was planning, but it didn’t seem like it would end well. He tried to think… how could he get out of this house? His only hope was to come up with a crazy idea — something that would appeal to the therapist’s insane thought process.
“We need a lion,” Bob said, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. “The pet shop will have one.”
This caught the therapist’s attention.
A lion… the therapist considered this. A lion… yes. That would be a perfect addition to the “ring of death” challenge he was planning.
They set off on Bob’s bike to procure a lion.
Bob was relieved to be out of the house, but also worried. The pet shop wasn’t going to have a lion. He needed another idea – fast.
All too soon, they arrived in town.
To Bob’s extreme dismay, the pet shop DID, in fact, have a lion. What the..!? This did not bode well for his afternoon.
But then a strange thing happened. The owner of the beauty shop next door stepped out to the street.
He seemed to be studying the therapist. Looking at him intently…
Finally, the beauty shop owner walked over. “Interesting shirt,” he said. The therapist just looked at him.
The beauty shop owner continued: “I couldn’t help but notice your ponytail. Did you do it yourself?”
The therapist did not speak or move. Then he nodded once.
The beauty shop owner thought about this. “I need you to follow me,” he said.
They went inside the shop.
“This is my business,” the owner explained once they were inside.
He pointed to an impressive display of photos on the wall. “I specialize in ponytail hairstyles for balding men who don’t like to smile,” he said.
“It’s not a huge market,” the owner conceded. “But it’s bigger than you think. And let me tell you this: You have what it takes to achieve extraordinary success here. Extraordinary.”
There was a pause, then: “I’m asking you to join my team,” said the owner.
The therapist asked for two minutes to consider the opportunity.
Ponytails… small amounts of hair… no smiling… These were all good things, the therapist thought.
He would, of course, insist on playing Falco’s “Rock Me Amadeus” on a constant loop in the beauty shop — at the highest possible decibel. But he could broach that issue later.
“Yes,” the therapist said in a grave voice.
Then he noticed Bob walk in. “You!” he yelled, pointing at Bob. “You are on your own!”
Bob’s heart nearly exploded with joy. Could it be?? Was this for real?? Then the therapist leaned way in. “AFTER I do your hair,” he hissed.
Bob wasn’t really a ponytail type of guy. And he didn’t love the idea hair extensions. Still, it was a small price to pay for his freedom.
Next week: The answer to… What Happened with Derek?
Counseling Begins
It was Monday morning. Bob was asleep.
Suddenly, he woke with a start. He had a strange feeling that he was being watched.
He was right.
Slowly, Bob turned his head. Then he choked back a scream.
It was the maniacal ski instructor! The one that had thrown him off a mountain earlier this year!
What was he doing here??
“I am the therapist that Hedger Corp assigned to you,” the ski instructor hissed. “I will be counseling you all week.”
The ski-instructor-turned-therapist stared at Bob for a few seconds, then stood up.
“In addition,” he added, “I am wearing your Snuggie.”
Bob had noticed that.
The therapist stood there for a bit, enjoying the warmth and convenience of the Snuggie.
Then, out of nowhere, the Snuggie seemed to enrage him.
He ripped it off and threw it across the room.
Then he hid one hand behind his back and yelled, “How many fingers am I holding up?!”
What the hell is going on here? Bob wondered.
The therapist was clearly waiting for an answer. Finally, Bob took his best guess.
“Three?” he asked.
“NO!” shouted the therapist, and dramatically revealed the answer. “TWO.”
“Only guess if you are 100% sure of the answer,” the therapist hissed angrily.
Bob was trying to figure that one out when suddenly the therapist performed a roundhouse kick that knocked him back onto the bed.
Bob sat up, trying to get his bearings. Behind him, the therapist was intensely studying the John Tesh photo. He seemed mesmerized.
Then he noticed the Garfield poster. He tore it off the wall.
He held the poster for a moment, thinking… thinking…
Then he began to eat it.
He managed to down most of it, but then seemed to lose steam. He took a quick break.
That’s when Erik Estrada and Larry Wilcox caught his eye.
Bob silently prayed that the therapist would not eat his CHiPs poster. It was bad enough he was going to have to replace Garfield.
“This is insane,” thought Bob. He decided right then and there that he needed to get rid of the therapist/ski instructor. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know when. But it had to happen.
Elsewhere, Derek was waiting in the office of another therapist.
All of a sudden, the doctor entered the room doing what appeared to be a reverse moonwalk. His feet were doing the normal moonwalk move, but instead of gliding backward, he was gliding forward. It seemed impossible, but there it was.
Derek was impressed, but also a little scared. The guy looked a little like Voldermort. A hip, urban version of Voldermort, but still.
The therapist immediately got down to Derek’s level. “Would you rather drink a beer or an iced tea?” he inquired.
“Beer,” Derek replied. Things were looking up.
The therapist walked to the corner of the room and stood there. Thinking.
“Interesting,” he finally said.
Derek waited patiently for his beer.
Suddenly the therapist stepped over to the ottoman and sat down.
“Would you rather have a beer that is ice cold or lukewarm?” he asked.
“Ice cold,” Derek replied.
Silence.
“Fascinating,” the therapist finally whispered. Then he walked back to his thinking corner.
Derek was losing his patience. “May I have the beer?” he finally asked.
The therapist chuckled softly. “No,” he said. “No, Derek. This conversation is not actually about ice-cold beer. It is about something more important than ice-cold beer.”
Derek was stumped. From where he was sitting, nothing was more important than ice-cold beer.
Then he began to worry. A Voldermortish therapist. Weird questions. No beer. This had the makings of a very bad day.
Meanwhile, Ann was at her house, waiting for her Hedger-Corp-appointed therapist to arrive. She had been waiting all day! Where was this person?
Just as she was dozing off, a minivan careened into her foyer.
A strange gentlemen flopped out of the car.
He was lying there a while. Then he got up.
“You are clearly in need of therapy!” he shouted by way of introduction. He extended his hand for a handshake.
Ann waited for him to mention the whole “Oops-I-crashed-a-car-into-your-house” thing, but he did not. It remained an elephant in the room.
Finally, the therapist said, “We need to get started.” He led Ann into the sitting room and told her he would be presenting a series of Rorschach tests.
“When you see the ink blot, tell me the first thing that comes to your mind,” he instructed.
He got the first one ready and Ann immediately saw something. The image was as clear as day.
“Well?” the therapist asked. “Let’s have it.”
Ann wondered what to do. She knew what she saw. But was the world ready for her answer? She wasn’t sure…
Next week: The counseling continues… Secrets are revealed. Plots are hatched. Difficult questions are answered. Stay tuned!
A Cone Full of Trouble
Continuing last week’s Cone of Solitude story…
It was a long week. And things got worse before they got better.
As you recall, the employees had discovered that the duct tape “Cone of Solitude” was an ideal way to get rid of their problems. They wrapped Ted’s therapist in a cone. Then Ted. Then the investors. And they stored them all in Grandma Bernice’s cubicle.
Such an easy way to deal with trouble. It was addicting.
At one point, Charles from HR showed up in the breakroom. The minute the employees saw him, they knew he would be going into a cone. They didn’t even need to hear what he had to say. And indeed, as they began to wrap him he asked, “Where are the performance reviews you promised to complete last week?”
Sure, Charles, we’ll get right on that. In the meantime, enjoy the cone…
Then the building security guard showed up, shouting about an emergency drill. “Everyone out to the parking lot!” he yelled.
Blah, blah, blah… evacuate… blah, blah.
Cone time.
Ahh… it felt so good to just wrap their problems away. The employees looked around for other bothersome things. They decided to wrap the copy machine, since it was always out of order.
A little later, Bob suggested they create eyes and a mouth for Sue, who had accidentally been wrapped up last week. The wrapping was very tight and they couldn’t get her out. Unfortunately, her face was covered by the tape, and it made her look kind of freaky.
Bob drew eyes and a mouth then glued it to Sue’s taped-up face. Much better.
Then the employees took stock of their situation. They had to admit that it wasn’t great. Ted, his therapist and the investors were all trapped in Cones of Solitude in Grandma Bernice’s cube.
Meanwhile, Charles, the security guard, and the out-of-order copy machine were wrapped up in the breakroom.
All the problems were contained, yes… but was it a sustainable solution? Likely not. There was a good chance that everyone wanted OUT of their cones.
The employees knew what action they needed to take. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was the right thing to do.
They were going to have to wrap the entire building. A huge Cone of Solitude to contain all the other Cones of Solitude. They began to plan.
Then they called Sue over to give input. She seemed very enthusiastic about the plan. Or very confused. Or very scared. They couldn’t tell.
Just then, Chachi walked in.
He took a look around. A long, long look.
Then he smiled (of course). But it wasn’t his normal smile. You could tell by looking at his eyes that this was his “I’m deeply disturbed” smile.
Then he told the employees to gather around and listen up.
Chachi had three messages for them:
Number one: It was clear that things had gotten out of control.
Number two: The employees needed to free EVERYONE and EVERYTHING from the Cones of Solitude. Immediately!
Number three: But FIRST they needed to take some duct tape and make him a belt. The best belt ever.
This last item was relatively easy to tackle. They fashioned a wide, drop-waist belt for Chachi. It looked incredible on him.
In fact, Derek loved it so much, he attempted to make an identical one. Unfortunately he miscalculated the size of his waist, and his belt ended up looking more like a mini-skirt from the store Forever 21.
Chachi’s second instruction–to free everyone who was wrapped in tape–sounded way less fun than the belt thing.
The employees started with Sue and realized this would NOT be easy. They decided to use a pair of scissors and huge tweezers.
Success!
Then they looked around… how should they handle this de-coning process? They weren’t sure…
They decided they liked the copy machine more than any of the people, so they freed it first. Then they cut Ted’s therapist out of her Cone of Solitude and started working on Ted.
It was VERY difficult to pull Ted off the tape. It almost seemed as if he was resisting.
Meanwhile, his therapist was whispering words of encouragement in his ear. Plus some reminders. “You can do this,” she whispered in her creepy voice. “Also, you owe me $450 for our 10-minute appointment last week. Do you have your checkbook on you? Tap your foot once for yes.”
After Ted was finally free, it was time to work on the investors.
As they were squeezing an investor with tweezers and trying to rip him away from the tape, the employees wondered if this whole situation might taint the way the investors thought of Hedger Corp. It was possible that it would.
Once people were free from the Cones of Solitude, they were sent to the triage zone, where Chachi soothed them with healing words and light pats on the head.
The employees decided NOT to free Charles from HR just yet. They needed a little more time to get those performance reviews done.
The Cone of Solitude project had not been a slam-dunk success. But the staff hoped that maybe… just maybe… everyone would appreciate having been wrapped up in duct tape. Sure, it was against their will, but solitude had been achieved. You couldn’t argue with that.
Alas, no. The investors were especially livid.
Chachi called them over to the corner of the room and struck his best “tell-me-all-your-concerns” pose. He’s really good at these types of poses.
The investors told Chachi they wanted to press charges. They wanted to get the authorities involved. Chachi told them that if they reconsidered and DIDN’T call the police, he would make them duct-tape belts, just like his.
They eyed his belt. It was undeniably amazing.
After a moment of silence, they agreed to this. Chachi whipped up two fantastic belts in no time. Belts that looked nothing like Forever 21 mini-skirts. Derek watched from afar, jealousy tearing him up inside.
The duct tape belts mollified the investors somewhat. But still, there was no way they were letting the employees off the hook for this whole “Cone of Solitude” debacle. No way.
Chachi struck his best “let’s-work-together-to-find-a-solution” pose. (I’m telling you, this guy is a master.)
The employees didn’t know what sort of deal Chachi struck with the investors, but something had been worked out. Everyone was suddenly shaking hands.
The investors stepped away and Chachi called the staff over. They noticed he was assuming his “I’m-bravely-delivering-tough-news” pose. Uh oh.
Chachi told the employees about the investors’ demand: The staff would be forced to seek counseling. Each of them would have to complete a full week of intense, round-the-clock therapy. No exceptions.
The counselors would be assigned by Hedger Corp. Or, if anyone wanted, they could go stand next to Ted, which would signal that they wanted to use Ted’s therapist instead.
No one moved a muscle.
So it was decided: Counseling for everyone, with therapists assigned by Hedger Corp. What could possibly go wrong?
Next week: Therapy begins. And it’s not pretty.
Launching a New Product
When we last left off, Hedger Corp had agreed to produce the Cone of Solitude, a duct-tape inspired product that Ted accidentally invented.
As you may recall, Ted had NO intention of creating a new product. He was just trying to recreate the peaceful, closed-in feeling that he had enjoyed when he was trapped in a block of ice a few weeks back.
Nonetheless, Hedger Corp was now on the hook to mass produce the Cone of Solitude. The investors were expecting a business plan. The employees weren’t sure what a business plan entailed exactly, but it sounded pretty official. In fact, it sounded like real work. Something that didn’t play to our strengths.
The staff gathered in the breakroom and assigned some roles. Bob would be in charge of Manufacturing. Ann would be in charge of Marketing. Sue would be in charge of Operational Excellence and Other Related Corporate Buzzwords. And Derek would have one of the most important jobs: Whiteboard eraser. Scoff if you will, but we learned the hard way that if no one is in charge of erasing the whiteboard, meetings spiral OUT OF CONTROL. Trust me.
So everyone had an official role! They waited to see if this would lead to the business plan…
It did not.
It was clear they would need to take some other type of action.
Sue suggested brainstorming, so they gathered around and began to freely brainstorm.
After a while it occurred to them that they should have focused their brainstorming on the product. That would have been more productive. But still, they got some ideas for future products, so it wasn’t a total waste.
Then they waited to see if the brainstorming would lead to the business plan…
It did not.
Ann wondered if they should make some type of flowchart. That sounded good to everyone, so she stepped up to the whiteboard. Then Derek screamed “Wait!!” He dove in to erase what was there, so Ann wouldn’t be writing directly over all the brainstorming notes. (See what I mean about the whole whiteboard thing?)
Once the board had been wiped clean, Ann got to work – and her flow chart was brilliant.
Everyone felt good. But somehow the flowchart didn’t seem comprehensive enough. Would the investors be expecting more?
After some discussion, the employees decided they should probably buy some duct tape and try to figure out the whole “mass-production” thing. That part of the plan seemed like it needed more detail. Bob set off to get the tape.
While all this was going on, Ted was doing something he should have done a while ago: visiting a therapist.
She was a bit of an odd duck. But maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, he had gotten her name from a flier that was left on his car window at a 7-Eleven. And in her waiting room he had seen a bowl of matchboxes with her logo printed on them. Was that normal, for a therapist to market herself on a box of matches? He wasn’t sure.
“You have problems,” she said in a soft, silky voice. A creepy voice.
“It’s not normal to want to live in a block of ice,” she whispered.
Then a long silence.
Finally she whispered, “Very, very abnormal.”
Ted spoke, mainly just to stop her from her freaky whispering. He told her that every time he closed his eyes frightening images flashed through his head. Images that involved his evil twin brother Jenkins and the events a few weeks ago. And now the therapist was part of the scary visions, though he left that part out.
Meanwhile, back at Hedger Corp the duct tape had been procured.
The employees were trying to figure out how to recreate Ted’s product. They learned the hard way that if you wrapped the tape too tightly it was next to impossible to remove.
After some tinkering, they figured out how to make Cones of Solitude one at a time. But they still had no idea how to mass-produce the thing. And the investors were due within the hour review the business plan. The employees were beginning to freak out. Then Ted walked in, followed by his therapist. Fantastic! Maybe they would have some ideas!
Uh… not quite. The therapist announced that the Cone of Solitude project must end immediately! She insisted it was not in the best interest of Ted’s mental health, it was slowing his recovery, blah, blah.
The employees knew they couldn’t have this naysayer around when the investors came. No way. Thinking fast, Derek and Ann used some of the tape to immobilize the therapist in a Cone of Solitude. When Ted began to protest, they wrapped him up too.
Then they stashed the two of them in Grandma Bernice’s cubicle.
The employees had eliminated two issues, but had not solved their main problem: The business plan. Panic was beginning to take hold. Then the investors walked in.
The employees looked at each other. They knew what they had to do.
The wrapping process was lightening fast. Before the investors even knew what was happening, they were ensconced in tape.
The employees stuck the investors in Grandma Bernice’s cube, along with Ted and his therapist.
Hmm. Perhaps the Cone of Solitude should actually be called the Eliminator of Problems.
Alas, our problems weren’t gone for good. They were just temporarily contained in the cones.
What now?
The employees looked at each other. Technically, they couldn’t be sure that Sue was looking at anyone, but they felt like she was.
They had no plan. Cones of Solitude were piling up in Grandma Bernice’s office. Derek couldn’t find the whiteboard eraser. What were they going to do now?
Next week: Is there a way out of this mess? Yes… but no one likes the solution. Not at all.
The New Desk
Strange week.
Last Friday afternoon I called the employees into the breakroom to tell them that important investors were visiting in one week. Really important investors.
But my little speech was interrupted when Hot Mailroom Guy made an unexpected delivery: A brand new desk.
“Desk?” we thought.“No one ordered a desk. Why are we getting a desk?”
Nonetheless, Derek claimed it immediately.
No one could really argue with this because Derek’s current desk was made of sticks and stones. Literally.
What? We’re having budget issues. Sheesh.
Anyway, Derek was very pleased.
He enjoyed the desk all afternoon. Not using it, just staring at it.
Then it was time to go. As usual, Derek made his “to-do” list for Monday. “Empty trash” was the number one item. It had been on the list for a long time.
Now here’s where things started to get weird.
When Derek returned Monday morning, every item on his to-do list was done. Empty trash: check. Buy milk: check. Stack books on desk in order to make it look like real work was happening: check.
What the…? Why were all his Monday action items already done?
He did not know.
Then, at the end of the day, he created another to-do list:
1. Buy sports magazine
2. Gather a dozen donuts
3. Procure an enormous amount of ice cream
It was his standard Tuesday to-do list. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen the next morning.
He was surprised to see that, once again, his entire list was accomplished without any help from him.
What was going on?
Derek did not have time to figure it out. He needed to focus if he was going to finish the magazine, donuts and ice cream before the day was out.
But that night, he decided to stick around and investigate the situation. He waited until long after everyone left. Then he crawled back to his cube and watched… watched… watched… dozed off… had a nightmare that he was unprepared for an important college exam… woke up… watched…
Suddenly the drawer of the new desk opened and a mysterious person/thing popped up.
Derek watched as this little… whatever it was… began tackling the items on on his to-do list. Sending e-mails. Composing letters. Playing online poker. Everything!
Derek wasn’t sure what it was or why it lived in the desk, but one thing was for sure: it was a productive little helper.
He decided then and there to (a) not tell anyone, and (b) make an INSANELY COOL to-do list the next afternoon.
By the time Thursday rolled around, the others were growing suspicious. Why had Derek suddenly acquired three new laptops, a huge high-def TV, a deluxe coffee maker, a stylish yet comfy chair, and a Pottery Barn rug?
To distract everyone from asking questions, Derek jumped up and volunteered to create the presentation for the big Investor’s Meeting the next day.
Whoa. The Investor’s Meeting. The other employees had completely forgotten about it. They were grateful that Derek was going to handle the presentation.
After all, these were important investors. Very important investors.
Derek had no idea why the investors were coming, or what should be included in the presentation, but he knew that if he wrote down the action item, it would get done. He looked forward to seeing what his little friend would produce.
Meanwhile, while all this “Derek Desk” stuff was going on, Ted was having a rough week.
If you recall, he was stuck in a block of ice two weeks ago. And while it was initially uncomfortable, he eventually came to love the solitude that the block of ice provided. When it melted, he felt disoriented. Exposed.
In an effort to recreate the ice-block, he curled up in the office fridge. But everyone kept opening the door and getting stuff out. So annoying!
Then he tried a trash can. But he cut a rectangle out of the trash can so he could get air — and the rectangle was WAY too big. This wasn’t solitude, it was just lameness.
He tried to forget about the peaceful tranquility of the ice block and get back to work. But alas, he could not let go.
Late Thursday night, he began stumbling around the office. He was upset. Disoriented.
He collapsed into Derek’s cube.
And trashed around a bit.
Finally, he groped his way to the desk. Maybe if he could curl up inside the drawer he would be OK…
He opened it.
The person/thing, very startled and scared, jumped over the cube wall as Ted buried his head in the drawer.
Ted remained there overnight.
When Derek arrived the next morning, he freaked. FREAKED! The curse words poured out and did not stop.
Not only was his helper gone, but now he had only 10 minutes — 10 minutes!! — to put together the entire presentation for the Investor’s Meeting. He didn’t even know what this meeting was about! He ran to his computer, still cursing loudly.
Meanwhile, the investors had arrived.
In a state of sheer panic, Derek had printed a bunch of generic PowerPoint clip art, and a few photos meant to suggest courage and strength. The charts had no meaning whatsoever, and were tied to no data. But they looked impressive.
Unfortunately, the only pointer he could find was Bob’s dueling pistol.
Derek struggled to explain the nonsensical charts. Sweat ran down his face. The pistol suddenly felt heavy and inappropriate.
Then, like a knight in shining armor, Ted stumbled into the room. He had wrapped himself in duct tape, trying to recreate the protective, claustrophobic sensation of being trapped in ice.
Heads turned.
The investors approached him. They studied him.
They stepped aside and had a private conversation.
A cone of solitude. A portable, protective barrier between a person and the world.
They liked this idea. Liked it a lot.
“We want to invest,” they informed Sue and Derek. “Begin production immediately.”
Handshakes were offered as Ted, unable to see, crashed into the back wall.
Next week: Our story continues… Under pressure from the investors, Hedger Corp begins designing the “Cone of Solitude.” But what happens when Ted and his therapist attempt to derail the project?
The “Smile!” Campaign
When we last saw Ted, he was enjoying some downtime in a block of ice. Soon enough, however, his serene world began to melt away…
Back in the office it was business as usual.
But not for long…
See, I had an idea.
It was an idea inspired by Chachi. That guy is always smiling. No matter what happens; no matter how bad things get. One time a monstrous piranha got into his fish tank and ate all his beloved pets in two seconds flat. Did Chachi smile through the pain? Indeed he did.
Another time, DirecTV somehow wiped out all the programs he’d saved on his DVR. Programs he’d been dying to watch, including the Biggest Loser finale. He had to dig deep. Real deep. But he found his smile.
He also managed to smile when his long-time girlfriend suddenly broke up with him…
… and announced she was marrying a man who didn’t believe in pants, but did believe in ornate, gold-trimmed shirts.
Chachi’s constant smile was inspiring. Somewhat annoying, but also so inspiring. So I asked him to launch a “Smile!” campaign to get the employees fired up. I said, “Chachi, make it great.”
He got to work.
As a first step, he painted a disturbingly large smile and posted it in the breakroom.
Then he gathered everyone around and demonstrated how to smile.
He asked Sue to come up and show everyone her smile. He was hoping to see a big grin, but Sue’s smile was low-key and somewhat wry.
Bob didn’t even try.
Derek managed to smile a bit, but only because he was thinking about a package that was coming in the mail. It was a “Best Friends Forever” key chain that he would someday present to Chachi. After they became better acquaintances, then quasi-friends, then friends, then best friends, then BFFs.
Suddenly, a wet and shivering Ted staggered into the breakroom. The block of ice had finally melted.
He swayed a bit, then fell flat on his face.
No one moved or said a word.
Then, after they felt like a respectful amount of time had passed, they got back to business.
Evidently the huge, freaky smile was just one part of the “Smile!” campaign. The other part was a huge, freaky mouth-thing with a lot of teeth.
Chachi was trying his best, but his ideas didn’t exactly inspire anyone to smile.
Run screaming in the opposite direction? Yes. But not smile.
Derek had a lot of trouble relaxing during his afternoon break.
And Bob was dismayed to see that the coffee maker had been placed on top of the big mouth. Come on!
The mouth evidently felt that Bob had had enough coffee.
The mouth was turning into a major problem, actually. It chattered its teeth all the time, and tried to bite the employees more than once. But whenever Chachi was around, it was the sweetest, most docile mouth-thing you’ve ever seen.
Then every time Chachi left, things spiraled out of control.
The stress level in the office was extremely high. And it got even higher when the other smile inexplicably became possessed.
The biggest problem, though, was with the toothy mouth. The employees realized that in order to save themselves, they would need to keep feeding it. They looked around for things that would never be missed. Such as the fax machine.
Figuring that there was a better than 50% chance that Ted was dead, they grabbed his computer and fed it to the mouth.
Then, to Derek’s horror, Sue threw an urgent piece of mail into the mouth. It was the BFF key chain. Derek had selected overnight delivery in case things progressed faster than expected with Chachi. The mouth hungrily consumed the package. Derek could not bring himself to watch.
As the day wore on, the stakes got higher.
Desperate to satisfy the mouth, Ann threw in an entire box of donuts. This was unconscionable to Bob. Unconscionable.
Without thinking, he dove to save the donuts.
The mouth was pleased.
It was at this moment that Ted finally came to. He assessed the situation…
… then started pounding the ground in frustration. This was exactly the sort of mayhem that would NEVER occur in a block of ice. He needed to find his way back to the ice… back to the ice…
The employees knew what they needed to do. They quickly mobilized a rescue mission.
It was successful! The donuts were saved!
As the adrenaline wore off, it dawned on them that maybe they should try to save Bob too.
But who should save him? They decided to use the “Bubble Gum, Bubble Gum in a Dish” strategy to pick someone.
Derek started the chant. “Bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish. How many pieces do you wish?” he asked Sue.
She said 200 pieces, so it took a while to count that out. Finally, Derek got to the finale: “And you are it!” he shouted at Ann.
Ann insisted that it should be “and you are NOT it.” But Derek said, no, the whole point was to figure out who WAS it. Not to figure out who was NOT it. But Ann was adamant. This argument continued on for some time.
Finally, they agreed to start over. “How many pieces do you wish?” Derek asked Ann.
She replied 14,000.
Derek began to count.
“You are NOT it,” Derek informed Sue four hours later. Suddenly there was a sound behind them. It was Chachi!
The employees surveyed the scene. Bob was gone. Maybe he’d been swallowed? They couldn’t be sure. Either way, Chachi’s beloved “Smile!” campaign was clearly a disaster.
A big disaster.
Chachi actually seemed upset. The employees were shocked, and so was I. But on some level I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction. So Chachi wasn’t always Mr. Happy Go Lucky, hmm? He could actually get upset, like a normal person. Well, well, well.
But then he smiled that winning smile. Damn you, Chachi!
As the employees cleaned up the breakroom, they reflected on the horribleness of the “Smile!” campaign. Most of all, they wondered how the big smiling mouth had suddenly turned so bad. Had someone actually gone to the trouble to make big eyes and stick them on the upside-down mouth? But who was maniacal enough to do that?
Ah. Good for you, Ann. Good for you. Is that a smile I see you trying to suppress?
Next week: A mysterious new desk arrives. Meanwhile, Ted finds it hard to adjust to life outside his block of ice.
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