June 4, 2007
I’d Save the World, But
It’s Not In My Job Title
I
knew it was going to be a bad day in the office when, during my morning
trip to the ladies’ room, my company ID fell into the toilet. I tried
not to overanalyze what that might predict for the rest of my day, or
the symbolism it might represent about my career.
Instead, I remembered to be thankful that while it may be soaked in a
bodily fluid, to my knowledge, it would still unlock the front door
after hours.
Perhaps I feel this way because my talents could be better used in a
different department, or with a different job description. I promptly
went back to my desk to create these unique jobs for myself – jobs I,
and probably you, would be very good at.
For example, I believe every sizable company should have a Director of
Hurdle Removal. This could be my sole job, and it could keep me busy
full-time to be sure. I would treat it just like I were the Fairy
Godmother in Cinderella. I would hear someone’s wish to have a hurdle
removed, and I would wave my wand and bam! It would be done.
For example, if Joe in IT and Liz in communications wanted to send
employees a postcard about a cool program, but Alan in human resources
forbade it, it would be my job to fight Alan to the death until I
changed his mind. Or, go above his head. Or, whatever I had to do to
remove the hurdle.
Being Director of Hurdle Removal would be fun for a short time, but I’ve
never been the type to desire a job that required too much
confrontation. If I wanted that, I’d have become a lawyer.
Instead, I’d like to be the Director of Meeting Management. It would be
my job, at an employee’s request, to look at all the meetings he or she
sits in and decide which ones are necessary, which could be combined
with others, and in general, which ones could be blown off with few or
no repercussions.
As
Director of Meeting Management, I would also cancel all meetings without
agendas, all brainstorms with people who are too married to their own
project and all meetings that can’t be finished in fewer than 60
minutes.
Imagine the productivity that would result and the enlightenment of the
chronic meeting-havers when they actually start accomplishing things.
The joy, beauty and harmony that would come from entire days of being
able to sit at one’s desk and talk to coworkers only when a direct
answer or decision is needed.
When my job as DMM was done, I would take on the role I call Director of
Initiative Safety. I designed this role after one of the most rewarding
jobs I ever had – sixth-grade crossing guard on the corners of Cleveland
Avenue and Maine Street near my elementary school.
The job of crossing guard is extremely important and not that difficult.
You wear an orange vest, carry a brightly colored stick and make sure
vehicles and people don’t collide. You have to stay alert, but the stop
signs and street lights are there to help.
As
Director of Initiative Safety, it would be my job to make sure that no
two projects within the company experience a “crash” - a point of impact
in which one team realizes that, all along, the other team was doing
nearly the same thing. Having meetings, testing, making decisions,
questioning decisions, re-making decisions all in the pursuit of the
same goal would be coordinated. In other words, spending hours of
everyone’s time before checking in on whether other teams were doing
something similar would be eliminated.
The biggest problem with a crash is that, once the crash happens, one
team inevitably plays the role of the peaceful pedestrian who was only
trying to get to school on time with his backpack full of homework
intact. The other team is the taxi cab who missed the stop sign.
The taxi driver, or team leader, feels guilty because he knows he should
have been more collaborative. His passengers, the other team members,
are upset because their destination and timing has been derailed. The
pedestrian feels stupid for not paying attention, and all his “homework”
– his past efforts, essays and reports – are strewn about the street,
blowing away in the wind, never to be seen again.
Not with me, the Safety Guard of all initiatives big and small. I could
dissolve entire taxis and stop pedestrians before they even get out of
their front doors. I could save their corporate lives.
Alas, I reread my job description, and sadly, none of these job duties
fall to me. So it’s back to my cubicle, my computer, my coffee, my
concerns for the day. I sigh, but still, I’m bringing a magic wand in to
the office tomorrow. Just in case.
© 2007 North Star Writers
Group. May not be republished without permission.
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