Workplace Personalities - The Tank

 

The Tank is a lot like The Arsonist, just more visible.  

Did I say visible?  That's an understatement.  The Tank can't be missed, can't be ignored, can't be escaped.  Just like on the battlefield, the Tank is utterly petrifying.

The Tank may or may not be physically imposing, but often is.  Tall, or wide, or both.  The Tank can barge through anything in it's way.  God help you if you are between the Tank and the elevator doors when it's late for a meeting.  You'll be squished to a pulp.

But the physical threat is not the worst of it.

The Tank can only see through his point of view.  All it sees is where it's going, its target.  If you are in the way, and smaller than it is (and let's face it most of us are), it is going to roll right over your career with its caterpillar tracks.

The Tank isn't as important as it thinks it is - after all, it's just one piece of artillery in the company arsenal - but it's all-terrain, it comes fully loaded, and it bloody well knows it.

The Tank has always been there.  Leonardo Da Vinci drew one.  H. G. Wells wrote about one.  Joseph Hawker patented one in 1872.

The Tank has fought and come through all the major wars.  Sure, they can come up with stealth bombers, nuclear submarines... so what?  When it comes to the battlefield, when we are one on one with the enemy, they always bring in the fucking Tank.

It's outer shell is impenetrable, it's progress is assured, and nothing can stand in it's way.

The Tank.

The fucking, shitty, unstoppable Tank.

That cannon on the front.  You know it's there to make up for a deficiency in the wiener department, but that doesn't change the fact that it can blow your head off.  So laugh and mock it all you want - in your head.  

Because just try and say anything out loud, to one of your colleagues (even in jest) against the Tank and you'll find out that everyone is terrified of it, and they'll tell you, furtively stealing glances to make sure they aren't being watched, that the Tank may be a little rough and ready, it might knock over a few promising things as it bumbles along, but that we need the Tank, really, really we do.  

Why the fear?

Surely the rest of us outnumber the Tank.  We could swarm it, overtake it.  Right?  Right?

Sadly, no.

Because, you see, the Tank has always been here, and it knows.  The Tank knows the terrain.  The Tank can climb hills, cross dales, ford streams.  The Tank has been called upon by the generals and, time and time again, the Tank has won battles for them.  Sure, there was collateral damage, but the Tank got the brass what they wanted, and it knows where the bodies are buried.  

So it's no use complaining to the higher ups.  They'll defend the Tank.

There always has been, and there always will be, the Tank.

So what to do?

You can't make friends with a Tank.  Impenetrable exterior, remember?  

I mean, come on!  Have you ever seen anyone petting a tank?  

Nope.

You can't outrun the Tank.  Sure, it's slow.  Yes, it kinda lumbers along.  But it always gets there, doesn't it?  It always gets there in the end.

And when it catches up to you, you're going down, baby.

You can't face it down, either.  Good luck trying.  

I think we all know what happened to this guy:

And so all you can do is stay the hell out of it's way.

The tank only has those little slats to see through, so if you duck low enough, and dive to the right or left, it might just roll on by without noticing you.  Try to fight in a different part of the battlefield, a part where you have the chance to seek glory, to get the gold star.  

Let the Tank lumber on.  Let it crush.  Let it mame.  There's nothing you could've done for those people anyway.

Save yourself.

Key signs:

• Relentless progress  
• Strategic advances, always gaining political ground
• Ruthless
• Crushing

Catch phrase: There isn't one.  That'd mean you'd see him coming.

Your strategy:  Hide.

Their comeuppance: 

 They won't have a comeuppance as such but, in a workplace that is moving more towards collaboration, they will become obsolete in the end.

For more in the Workplace Personalities series, click here.  The others are funnier, I promise.  I'm just not in a happy mood right now.  I got squished by a Tank.

You might like:

• The Driveby
• The Urban Warrior

Couch Potato - Tron 2010

  

   

   

   

   

   

   

Tron: Legacy (2010)

    

  

[SPOILER ALERT!]

  

   

We saw Tron last night.

 

I have a very vague memory of the original Tron.  It wasn't, like it was for many pre-teen boys, a seminal moment in my life.  I recall being impressed by the digital landscape, but I didn't know enough about the science of movies back then to realize that it was ground breaking.  I also wasn't into video games much.  Even as a child I preferred movies about people, relationships, psychology.  Give me The Breakfast Club over Tron any day.

  

But it was a big deal for Fluffy Bear.  He has always been fascinated by the possibilities and alternatives presented by science fiction and how, by presenting a view of how things could be, it challenges your acceptance of how things are.  He also knew exactly how difficult it must have been to create the effects presented in the 1982 film with the technology available at that time.

  

But, back to me.  

   

Just so you know, I went into this film with very little memory of the original and no sense of wonder to prejudice me.

   

I have to start by saying that the 3D in the preview for the new Cars movie seemed far more compelling to me than the 3D in Tron itself.  Does 3D work better with animation?  I don't know.

    

The 3D in Tron seemed to me like one 2D person is standing closer to me than another 2D person.  The CGI shots of the grid's landscape and the games had a wonderful sense of perspective, but not the scenes with close ups of the actors.

 

I did like the idea of the real world being 2D and the Grid being 3D.  Nice touch, which raises ideas of the Grid looking more real to us than a representation of our actual world, and what that says about what we want to believe about the digital reality.  You could write an entire thesis on that topic.

 

Don't worry.  I'm not going to.  

  

The key area where the 3D was stunning was, of course, the game and battle scenes.  The idea of the slipstream from a vehicle being a solid object that can destroy your opponent is still amazing, and was used to full effect.

   

The designers deserve full credit for the world they created.  Every aspect of the design - sets, costumes, makeup, hairstyling, down to every accessory in a living room or bedroom - was absolutely beautiful and perfectly placed.  Color, form, combination... all stunning.

 

The execution deserves a mention too.  The skin tight costumes the women wore did not cause camel toe.  Well done, wardrobe department!!!

  

The acting was pretty good, with Michael Sheen stealing the show.  (Maybe now IMDB will put a more flattering picture of him on his profile.)

    

But I could've told you he'd be a baddie the minute he opened his mouth.  It's a sad cliche that anyone with an English accent is a baddie in an American TV show or film, and it gets REALLY boring.

       

The plot was reasonable, and linked nicely to the original, but the writing seemed to me to be a little obvious.  I have a friend who is a Hollywood writer, and I know that these things are often not the writer's choice, or fault.  Directors, network officials, marketing officials, even actors - everyone packages and massages and chips away at what might have once been a wonderful script.  So who knows who's responsible, but the analogies, references, metaphors and even product placements... no subtlety.  No grace.  All were delivered with a sledgehammer.

  

See?  Clu is also Kevin Flynn's son!  BONK!!!

See?  Ducati make the best bikes!  BONK!!!

See?  Everything should be Open Source!  BONK!!!

See?  Perfection is right in front of you!  BONK!!!

See?  Being a total hippy doesn't work, but being a warmongering fuckwit doesn't either!  BONK!!!

    

Oh, one small thing... the main actor wasn't buff enough.  He barely had pecs, and had a layer of flab on his tummy.  On the other hand, every female in the Grid is, of course, utterly perfect.   Come to think about it, even the women in the real world scenes are perfectly proportioned.  

    

DOUBLE STANDARD ALERT!

   

I have to admit, there were many moments when I was bored stupid.  Sometimes because things weren't moving along, sometimes because the sentimentality was nauseatingly cloying and sometimes because the plot was so fucking obvious I was trying not to take out my iPhone and play my turn on Words with Friends.  

  

Yeap.  I know what's coming so I'll just check what the latest ridiculous non-word is that Ted has come up with by randomly combining his letters...

    

But there were also moments where I was just awed at what I was seeing.  There was a real beauty on the screen, and I don't mean a pretty woman.  Aerial flights over the main city in Grid, details of the flying machines used to arrest programs, the freight train... I could watch parts of this movie with the sound turned off and some rousing classical music blaring to set the mood.

  

       

Final verdict:

  

Go see it on the big screen, because even your ridiculous impulse-bought, debt-inducing 56" 3D HD TV won't do the design genius justice.  But make sure you don't sit next to a bony-elbowed teenage twitgirl who you would cheerfully choke with her popcorn, so you can spread out and nap briefly in the crappy parts.  

    

To see more in the Couch Potato series, click the category link on the left.   

   

    

  

Dear Diary - WHEN SNACKS ATTACK!

 

 Dear Diary,

 A chip attacked me yesterday.

Yes, a potato chip.

Yes, yes, I'll explain.  Just let me start at the beginning.

I have a new job.  Same company, same department, different team.  Same salary, same title, a LOT more to learn.  

I have a project to run.  That's nothing new to me, but delivering a physical IT project in this company is not something I have done there before, and it's a big deal to them.  "You don't get it till you've done it" is a mantra here, so I have to do it, and I have to do it well.

I have a new boss to impress.  Well, not impress, as such.  I've done that already, or he wouldn't have hired me.  What I have to do is earn credibility with him and the team.  And this team makes you earn it.  Holy shit, I can't stress that enough.  I get no quarter with these people.

So I'm holding a meeting.  

A meeting for my project, with about half of my team, and a vendor who has flown up from California to see us.  Lunch is arranged and it's one of those make-your-own-sandwich deals.  I'm nervous so I slip into my old psychological trap: eat.  

I make a big sandwich and I take chips.  They are those horrible kettle chip things. They are oily and not salty enough and have no flavor and yet I take about twenty of them.  

My little voice says "Don't have the chips!"  It says it loud and clear, just like Magnum's little voice.  But I tell myself it's close to Christmas and I would like something crunchy with my sandwich and who cares about the calories and everyone else took chips and...

Because I went to the bathroom and talked to a colleague, by the time I get back into the meeting, my colleagues have mostly finished their sandwiches and are talking business with the vendors again.  I am sitting right next to my boss and he's asking the vendor questions and I am trying to chew these nasty, noisy chips.

So I am chewing slowly, and I am not chewing enough.

About two bites before the end of my sandwich, I feel that I have food stuck in my throat, on the right side under my ear.  But it's one of those sensations where you aren't choking, it's just that something hasn't moved quite right and the natural slime in your system is going to get it back on track in a minute, and so you just keep chewing.  

But it doesn't move.

And then it starts to hurt.

And I have to leave very quickly and head for the bathroom.

My eyes and nose are streaming.  My body is trying to clear the obstruction from my throat with mucus.  But it's not in my throat.

I start heaving.  My body is trying to clear the obstruction from my esophagus.  But it's not in my esophagus.

So I am heaving and gargling and blowing my nose and wiping my eyes and drinking water from the bathroom taps and trying my best to move whatever the fuck this thing is.  

And I'm spitting up blood.

Eventually a projectile clump of food hits the bathroom basin, but it feels like I have half the obstruction still in there.  

And it fucking hurts.  The pain is directly below my right ear, on the right side of my throat.  

I call Fluffy Bear and ask him to see if we can get an appointment with the doctor later that afternoon.  I tell him what is going on and he says we have to go to ER.  Surely, I think to myself, it isn't bad enough for THAT.  And ER is vile and they make you wait and then they charge you a frickin' fortune and we can't afford that.

It hurts, but it's tolerable.

I can breathe.

It's my meeting.

I tell Fluffy Bear I'm OK and I head back into the conference room.

I grab the water jug and try to look inconspicuous as I drink three glasses of water in a row.  I try to concentrate on what people are saying.

Then I have a question and I hear my own voice.  I sounds like George Burns with laryngitis, gargling with salt water, asking for a cigar.

OK, time to go to ER.

I explain what's going on, gather up my stuff, and start to leave.  I exit a room where 8 people are staring at me with stricken looks.  

I try a joke about emulating George Bush.  

Nobody laughs.

Bizarrely, we got seen at the hospital right away.  I was still signing the we-can-bankrupt-you-for-the-bill form when the nurse ushered me into the pre-screen area.  

A disgusting Maalox-Lidocaine cocktail and an X-ray later, the conclusion was that I have scratched the area behind the tonsil cavity, that injuries in that area feel very acute, but that they heal quickly on their own.  

The doctor took my question about alcohol without even blinking and, presumably thinking I could do with a stiff drink, reassured me that I can imbibe both painkillers and a cocktail.  

Drama over.

And now we wait for the bill, watch Fluffy Bear enjoy the fact that I can't speak, and look forward to my team taking the living piss out of me when I get to the office on Monday.

Couch Potato - Missing scenes: Friday Night Lights

 

 

 

 

 

 

Background:

  

Friday Night Lights is a show about a high school football coach in the small town of Dillon, Texas, his family and the kids that orbit around him.  It is loosely based on a book "Friday Night Lights: a Town, a Team, and a Dream"  by H. G. Bissinger.

Context:

 

The East Dillon High football players initiate their new rally girls at a party, making them chug beer.  One girl gets so drunk she is half way passed out.  One of the players grabs her from behind and is holding her arms, making her flail around like he's a puppeteer.  Someone films this and puts the video on the net.  Parents call the school asking for all the football players in the video (there are many) to be expelled.

 

What I believe is the missing scene:

 

FADE IN: 

 

INT. SCHOOL HALL - EVENING.  

 

Various parents are gathered, seated facing a table where Coach Taylor and the school principal sit.  There is a buzz of conversation in the room, with an angry overtone.

 

Mr Donahue, an angry parent, stands up and points at the principal.

 

 

MR DONAHUE

 

I want those boys expelled!

 

 

Close up of Coach Taylor's face.  It is impassive.

 

 

COACH TAYLOR

 

Mr Donahue, have I ever slept with your wife?

 

  

Mr Donahue looks down at his wife, seated next to him.  Mrs Donahue has a shocked expression on her face.

 

 

MR DONAHUE

 

What?

 

 

Coach Taylor turns to look at another parent.  As she notices him focus on her, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

COACH TAYLOR

  

Mrs Foster, have I ever slept with you?

  

I think we all know the answer is No.  So there is no way that I am the father of either of your sons.

  

I'm also not the father of those girls who were at the party, where not one of them helped that poor girl who was being ridiculed.  Not one boy, or girl, tried to stop what was going on.

  

See, here's the thing, folks.  These kids are y'alls kids.  You are their parents.  We have them for 7 or 8 or even 9 hours 6 days a week, and we do the best that we can to instill the right values in these young boys and girls, but y'all have a job to do too.  

  

Now if these kids should be expelled from school, should I be calling up Social Services to remove them from y'all's homes?  

  

That behavior on the video was disgusting.  I don't deny that.  But we all - all of us in this room - have a part to play in making sure these kids have the right Christian values and behave in the right way.  

  

So how about we stop making threats and try to find a way to work together to help these kids see that there is a right and wrong way to behave, that we should all treat each other with respect, that what they did is not acceptable behavior and that there are going to be consequences and that the consequences are going to fit the crime?

 

FADE TO BLACK.

 

To see more in the "Couch Potato" series, click the category link on the left.

 

Hell is other people - Scary hair

 

I woke up in a really shitty mood today.  It doesn't matter why.  I just did.

So I wore all black, straightened my hair and put on very dark lipstick.  When I got to work, all I got was compliments.

"Did you get your hair cut?  It looks great!"  

"No, I just used my hair straighteners."

"It looks great!"

"Thanks."

"Wow, I really like your hair!"

"Thanks."

"You should do that more often!"

"It takes ages to do.  I could never do this every day."

"Well, it looks great!"

"Thanks."

"Hey, great hair!"

Sigh.

"You look cute!"

"LISTEN!  THIS IS MY FUCK OFF LOOK!  I'M SCOWLING!  I'M WEARING ALL BLACK!  MY LIPSTICK IS ALMOST BLACK!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?  CAN'T YOU TAKE A HINT?  LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

OK, I didn't say that.  Not out loud.

But I did go back to my desk and eat a whole bar of dark chocolate.

Stupid fuckers.

To see more in the "Hell is other people" series, click the category link on the left.

Quote Unquote - Mama mia

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 "She'd say: Hey, Superstar!  Take out the trash!"

    

 Alice Cooper, describing his mother's attitude to his fame

  

    

  

"Are you one of those Beatles?"

   

Alice Cooper's mother, answering the phone when Paul McCartney called

  

  

  

To hear the interview, click here.

  

To read more in the Quote Unquote series, click the category link on the left.

   

   

Puppy Talk - Domination games

 

Puppy Dog:   New hairless apes are coming into the pack.

Puppy Girl:   Really?  Wow!  How do you know?

Puppy Dog:   Mama's making the bed in that part of the den that's for other hairless apes.  

Puppy Girl:   Yay! I love it when new hairless apes come into the pack!

Puppy Dog:   I don't.

Puppy Girl:   Why not?

Puppy Dog:   I like my position in the pack.  I don't like to have it challenged.

Puppy Girl:   Well, I don't care.  I think new hairless apes are fun!  They stroke me and play with me!

Puppy Dog:   It's not like they have any choice, when you throw the ball into their laps again and again.

Puppy Girl:   Well it's better than you humping their leg!

Puppy Dog:   I have to show them who's boss.  I've been in this pack the longest, thank you very much!

Puppy Girl:   Is that what Dada was doing last night?

Puppy Dog:   What?

Puppy Girl:   Showing Mama who's boss?  You know, when they were up on the bed and they made me get off and go to my own bed?

Puppy Dog:   Um....

Puppy Girl:   Mama is very hard to dominate!  It took Dada ages to get her to submit!  And she really didn't like it!  She kept screaming!

Puppy Dog:   Um...

Puppy Girl:   Well I don't care about your all your domination games.  I'm happy as the bottom of the pack.  I'm the baby and you gotta love me!

Puppy Dog:   Yes, well.  AHEM!  Where's your ball?

Puppy Girl:   BALL!  BALL!  WHERE'S MY BALL?

Puppy Dog:   Whew!  Bullet dodged.

Puppy Girl:   What?

Puppy Dog:   Nothing

Puppy Girl:   THERE'S MY BALL!  YAY!

To see more in the Puppy Talk series, click the category link on the left.