With the possible exception of tenured English professors, everyone in the United States is aware that the nation's economic indicators are pointing towards that little slice of the pie chart that states, "Everyone Panic." As a result, corporations are downsizing, and thousands of people are hyperventilating every time they so much as see someone from HR on their floor.
Now, let's be real: If you are reading The Huffington Post, chances are pretty good you are a fully functioning, valuable member of your corporate team. However, the chances are also good you have a friend or lunch buddy somewhere in the company who isn't quite getting the big picture. You know, a good soul and fun person, but not exactly burning the midnight oil when it comes to self-improvement and corporate goal achievement. Might even be a little cavalier about his job and the economy, because he assumes there's an opportunity waiting right outside the corporate front door. If push came to shove, he could deliver pizzas, right? Work construction? Scoop ice cream? How bad can that be?
Pretty bad.
I know, because like your cavalier friend I assumed the grass was greener elsewhere, and seeking to simplify my life I hopped off the white-collar carousel... and landed headfirst in the minimum wage world. Wikipedia now has my photo under the section entitled "Bad Decisions of Biblical Proportions."
During my year in the minimum-wage world, I managed to achieve two primary things: I wrote a book about the experience, and I developed a corporate success plan for if-and-when I clawed my way back onto that wondrous white-collar merry-go-round. But once I had the plan in place, I needed a way to test it. Enter a good friend of mine, Dabney Yarbrough, who told me, "I'm going to get canned, man. I know it. My position is picture perfect for outsourcing. You gotta give me some advice, man!"
"What do you do at the company?" I asked.
"Not much," he replied.
"Can you volunteer for more responsibility?" I asked.
"What? And really work?"
He was my kind of guy. And that's when I explained my theories and plans, and Dabney was just desperate enough to implement them. Now please understand -- my plans aren't for people with real ambition and drive: It's for people like Dabney, and your cavalier friend, and, well, me. People who want to seem vital, without actually doing the work necessary to be vital.
So; the Plan:
Step one: Root through your office and create a stack of important-looking folders, spreadsheets, and stapled reports. This foot-thick stack of papers will be known to you as your "football," and what's actually in your football is of no real consequence. If you are so far down the food chain that you have no paper files in your office, don't sweat it. A perfectly suitable football can be gathered quickly and easily out of the recycling bin.
With your official-looking football assembled, you have a new job: Show up, grab it, and go! Ride the elevators. Stride the halls briskly. Accidentally walk in on big meetings. Walk out to your car, take an iPod break, and walk back. The point is perpetual motion, and face time with the big boys.
Here's a page out of Dabney's diary, which he began keeping on my recommendation. It was the perfect day:
7 a.m. - Arrived at office in blue suit. Grabbed football, and went to cafeteria. Faked sleep, and was awoken by VP of Marketing. Told him I'd pulled an all-nighter.
7-9 a.m. - Ate a leisurely breakfast while pretending to read papers, waved to 7 VPs, and spoke to CFO.
9-10 a.m. - Napped in car.
10-11:30 a.m. - Made first round of building. Conversations with 2 VPs, CEO's assistant, and Manager of Sales. Rode elevator with COO, and pretended not to notice him while I pored over papers. He told me to keep up the good work.
11:30-12 noon - Delivered a pizza to the boys in the mailroom. Talked them into letting me deliver the CEO's mail.
Noon-1 p.m. - Walked in on Executive Committee's lunch meeting. Said, "Sorry! I'm not supposed to be in here--yet!" CEO laughed. CTO gave thumbs up.
1-2 p.m. - Napped in broom closet
2-4 p.m. - Rushed around building. Fumbled football in front of VP of Sales, muttered that I shouldn't be so clumsy with "valuable company property." We made eye contact, and he nodded.
4-5 p.m. - Downtime, as execs are all holed up in their offices doing actual work. Reset computer clock and formatting for end-of-the-day email blast.
5-6 p.m. - Sat on briefcase in lobby, and played Halo III on my laptop. Nodded to 14 execs as they left.
6-6:30 p.m. - Launched computer program to send out emails between 11:30 and midnight to all VPs and executive committee staff.
Friends, do you see? Dabney didn't just give the company his time; he gave it to them wisely. In the past 12 months he has survived 4 rounds of layoffs at his Fortune 100 Company, not because he's vital... but because he appears to be vital. Can't you hear HR discussing him?
HR Axe Man: What about the Yarbrough guy. Redundant?
HR VP: I don't know what he does, but he busts it.
HR Director: Yup, and the Boss likes him.
Asst. to CFO: No, the boss loves him. You better have a good reason for canning him.
HR Axe Man: Okay, Yarbrough stays. Who's next?
Of course if you get too many of these folks, the corporation suffers. But your friend? The lunch buddy? Who's it gonna hurt? Pass the word along to him or her, and we'll keep it among us friends. And if I end up working for you? Hey, just consider "looking the other way" as your payment for the concept. If you're nice, I'll mention you in my midnight emails.
Well, that's it for now. But fortunately for you, this isn't my only post on the topic. I'll be back, with more corporate wisdom on relating to superiors and subordinates and the secret to your friend achieving invisibility should they accidentally get promoted. Until then, just tell your pal to remember the irrefutable law of the jungle: You don't have to be the fastest gazelle. You just need to be able to outrun the sick, old, and lame.
Prioleau Alexander is the author of YOU WANT FRIES WITH THAT? A White-Collar Burnout Experiences Life at Minimum Wage, published by Arcade. Best-selling author Pat Conroy described it as "marvelous," written with "wit, style, and compassion." It is available in bookstores nationwide.