Cindy
Droog
Read Cindy's bio and previous columns
October 1, 2007
Childhood Games.
Corporate Games. They’re All the Same.
When I was little, one of my favorite games was hot potato. We played it
at school, using an eraser in place of the potato. I played it with my
parents at home, using the kitchen oven buzzer as our timer. I joyfully
taught it to my younger brother (as soon as he was old enough to throw
without doing that thing toddlers do where they get as close as possible
to you before aiming).
Within the year, I’m sure I’ll teach it to my son, too. But until then,
I’m sharpening my skills and getting my hot potato fix just from reading
my e-mails at work.
The first one came through early last week. “Who authorized this?”
Followed shortly by the string of, “Not me’s.” Within 12 hours, these
were followed by some actual “Oh no, the buzzer is going to go off any
minute!” tossing to actual departments. “Maybe it was the folks down in
global marketing. They do stuff like this all the time.”
I
just sat in my cubicle, reading, and hoping that the potato would
explode in mid-air, and that someone I enjoy working with wouldn’t be
the last person who tossed it. So, here’s a little office politics tip.
Check your e-mail frequently. Usually, the first responder isn’t also
the last.
Most working adults haven’t lost their touch at Duck-Duck-Goose either.
In essence, you travel in a circle, looking at all of your potential
victims. Choose one you think is slightly slower than you, and bam! The
chase for a seat at the table ensues.
I’m pretty sure I was the goose more often than any of my classmates in
elementary school. I’m only 4’10”, which means my legs might be two-feet
long at best. While I might be fast for my height, I was no match for an
average-sized third grader who didn’t want to be a goose two times in a
row.
It makes me wonder. When you’re picked to work on a project, is it a
mental game of Duck-Duck Goose? Do the project leaders look at the
roster of potential teammates, and choose one who will make the project
fun, but definitely won’t run circles around them, thus making them look
slow or less than brilliant? Or, do they truly pick the person they want
to play with, like how the boys in class would pick the girls they like
to chase them?
There is one game that I learned to stop playing early in my career:
Monopoly. Competing for property, often to the detriment of others, can
come back to bite you. I learned this while working at an advertising
agency that had just lost its largest client. In the shuffle, quite a
few people lost their jobs. Soon after they were gone, a young woman who
wasn’t let go decided to grab the nicer office of one of our former
colleagues.
Controversy ensued. Feelings were hurt. Enemies made. A few years later,
when I got married, I even had to seat my guests, some of whom were from
that agency, according to their alliances. Looking back, it would have
been much nicer to the other “players” if she’d stuck with three houses
instead of upgrading to the office version of the Monopoly hotel.
And thus, the lessons learned from childhood games continues. I’d tackle
the corporate equivalent of Chutes and Ladders next, but some of my
coworkers read this column. And I don’t want to find myself spiraling
down the slide. I’ll leave that kind of fun to my kids.
© 2007
North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.
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