Where the Rubber Meets…Pedro?
Innovation. I likes me some innovation. Some people ask, “Daniel, why, after over seven years, haven’t you tired of your job?”
“Innovation,” I tell them. “It’s all around me, like a creative æther.”
Case in point: Today, my company announced a refreshed intranet for its North American properties. They tease initially, nonchalantly announcing roughly pedestrian features, holding the secret sauce for the kicker.
Starting today, you will notice a bit of a change to the <company> Intranet homepage.
In addition to having been redesigned for ease of readability in mind, we have also added a new feature: access to <company>’s Marketing Archives.
This new feature is on the right hand side of the homepage. It offers a permanent link to the most recent marketing campaign, as well as access to a complete archive of previously sent marketing communications. Access to the Marketing Archives will help all staff in North America stay abreast of any communications that have been issued to <company>’s clients and/or prospects. To learn more about any of the campaigns in the Archives, please feel free to contact <webmaster>.
Marketing archives! This, dear friends, is the kind of simple treat you find only alongside the path of patient diligence. Yes, my company’s fiscal system is as diseased as Ted Kennedy’s liver, dumping, if you will, lumps in its urine as often as not. Only the cynic can fail to appreciate marketing archives, though. All those communications to clients!
- “Your ads suck; we might make them suck less!”
- “Yes, we’re expensive; but so are clean!”
- “Almost half of your proprietary data is safe with us!”
- “Vote for <company> and all your wildest dreams will come true.”
In Aldous, Foolishness, Uncategorized on
2 September 2008 with no comments
They announced names. I listened.
“No, that’s not me.”
“That’s not me, either.”
This went on for the few days I was called in. Until Wednesday, the 27th.
They announced names. I listened.
“No, that’s not me.”
“That’s not me, eith–wait, that is me.”
“These jurors should go to lunch, and report back at 1:25.”
I didn’t leave. I told everyone I could that I had finally been called. I wrapped up my work, set my out-of-office message, shut my computer down. I ate lunch, cleaned up my mess, and packed my stuff away. I watched CNN, regretting the channel’s decline to sameness, and waited.
We assembled in the waiting area, we few who had been chosen to serve, at about 1:30. We waited. Finally, at about 1:45, the jury commissioner came in.
“Thank you for coming, but the judge doesn’t require your services today. Those of you in your second week of duty, you’re done. You don’t need to call the recording, you don’t need to come in tomorrow or Friday. Thank you for your service.”
The free donuts were no consolation.
Posted by email from erectlocution’s posterous
In Uncategorized on
29 August 2008 with 4 comments
I couldn’t wait to get into the Jury Commission office this morning.
It’s not for the $19 a day, it’s not for the quite horrible free
“coffee,” and it’s not for digital cable. I’m anxious to hear my name
called.
This sort of investment is crazy hard to develop. The first thing we
look for from an employer is what we need to pay bills, and there’s a
bit more potential for pride in serving your fellow citizens as fair
arbiters of their constitutional rights than there is in, say, selling
denim purses. But the Jury Commission manages to create this sense of
investment despite the relative discomfort because we all know we’re a
part of something.
This is the core of “service”: whatever the product itself, you can be a
part of something, of an interaction, of the effort to meet someone’s
needs and add a little happy to their day. You can do this pimpin’
pleather accessories, you can do this fixing carburetors, and you can do
this running for president. It’s more than a Twitter account and a
glossy web page, but right now, those work for some things. For
others, you could do worse than to smile.
Posted by email from erectlocution’s posterous
In Uncategorized on
21 August 2008 with no comments