Cindy

Droog

Read Cindy's bio and previous columns

September 22, 2008

Internal Presentations: The Root of Corporate Evil

This morning, Sally* comes running over to my desk in a sheer panic. She is in desperate need of an image that we once used, in 2006, in a brochure touting our latest – at the time – new product.

She is wired. Either she’s had five cups of coffee already today, or the Chicago Tribune is about to do a major feature story on how fabulous we are.

Foiled.

The image is needed for the most dreaded of all projects – the internal presentation. The one that causes version 24 of the Power Point presentation to live on my desktop, along with the other 23 that can’t possibly be deleted, in case someone changes their mind. Back. Again.

Last week alone, I spent the better part of the day generating an internal presentation. This is not unusual for me, and I assume, for many other Dilberts and Dilbertettes of the world.

The thing is, Sally and me? We’re not the only two people who have to work on this internal presentation. Someone has to proofread it. Of course, anywhere from two to 32 people have to review it (all of whom will exercise their reviewing power to make some insignificant change, causing Sally and me to generate – and send out for approval – version 25).

So, rather than play around in Second Life when I get home, I let my imagination wander to the topic of what companies and their workers could do if only someone would ban the internal presentation. Here’s my short list:

• We’d never have to install Power Point. Millions of dollars could be saved in software licensing fees and given to end world hunger.
• Employees could spend this time writing e-mails or blog posts on the five things they love most about the company. These pieces of original creativity – which don’t require a transition slide lamely disguised as a turning book page – could be sent to talent the company is trying to recruit. Or customers they’re trying to land.
• We could help the busiest department finish something important to the company’s bottom line. Perhaps the warehouse had seven people call in sick? I’m not above helping to enhance our customer experience by getting a product out on time. In fact, I once worked for a company that required all executives to work two nights in the warehouse during the Christmas season. It was cool. Props to them.

I get bored imagining how I could solve all the company’s – and the world’s – problems by banning internal presentations, and instead, humor myself thinking about what life would be like if I managed my household the way people obsess over internal presentations.

First, I’d inspect every item of clothing before it was placed in the dirty laundry to determine if, in fact, it belonged there. I’d send my husband back upstairs to generate version two of the dark load, when I could have already had the whole thing in the spin cycle.

Later, I’d have to get my husband’s approval before setting dinner down in front of our two-year-old. To the trash would go the spinach ravioli if it were not placed in the upper left hand corner in order to be consistent with the plate’s overall design.

On Saturday, I’d have to gather opinions on what my front yard should look like this fall. The neighbors think marigolds over mums in the window boxes. My son says the paper ghost should hang in the living room – not dining room – window. But my father-in-law disagrees, so I compromise and move him to the front door, displacing the wreath that my husband insisted was crucial to the overall theme.

And just like the internal presentation does to me, I am driven to drink. Five. Martinis. With Sally, who actually orders six. She calls in sick the next day, and the presentation gets rescheduled.

Which is a good thing. Because Joanne*, the vice president of project management, innovations and customer acquisitions, hadn’t seen the presentation yet. And she thinks we should use the word “see” instead of “view” on Slide 19.

* As always, names have been changed to very lightly and lamely disguise the guilty. You know who you are. I just hope you’re not reading this.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

Click here to talk to our writers and editors about this column and others in our discussion forum.

To e-mail feedback about this column, click here. If you enjoy this writer's work, please contact your local newspapers editors and ask them to carry it.

This is Column # CD105. Request permission to publish here.