Profiling

Hi, I’m Buddy, your corporate guru.  Well, actually, I’m your corporate-appointed guru, which is slightly different, but trust me, it makes you special.

Well, the first way it makes you special is that you’re the only person in your department to have a corporate-appointed guru, and the second way is that you and I are going to spending a lot of time together now, in order to get your karma valeted and your personality enhanced so that you’re ready to accept the promotion that is destined to be yours.  

No, I don’t do the valeting myself actually, that would be rather a waste of my talents.  I explain to you how you valet your own karma and you keep it maintained after that.  Or find someone to do it for you; Steve in Sales is always willing to lend a hand.  

I’d say sticky rather than clammy, but if you feel that way perhaps you’d be better looking for a valet of your own then.

Yes, I did mention a promotion, and I was hoping your might pick up on that.  Corporate only issue gurus when they feel that they need to promote someone to the management fast-tra– Oh, you’re already management?  That’s not down on your profile you know.

Oh really?  That’s a job title now?  Huh!  Well, you learn something new every day don’t you.  Oh don’t look at me like that, I bet that not’s what your business cards say… oh would you look at that!  You do have a card calling you that.  And you give them out….

Well, before we go any further then, I think we’d better profile you so that we’re both clear what we’re dealing with her.  No, not Myers-Briggs.  How nineties is that?  And who wants to be a collection of letters anyway?  Well, if you must know, I’ve collected about half the alphabet so far.  Yes, I know there’s only eight available in the standard version of the test.  And before you say it, yes, I know that the baby-version assigns you letters and doesn’t explain how you can go about collecting the missing ones.  I suppose that does sound a bit like Pokémon.  Yes, I’m writing that down.

So we’re doing a goodness-of-fit test to find out the kind of person you are, the kind of role you best fit in the company, and the best kind of company for you.  We’re looking for the obvious misfits first – librarian in a fire-station kind of thing – and then we’ll do a second pass looking for misfits that have arisen through natural career progression – expert stripper running the front desk and accounts for example. 

Yes, I have coached strippers.

No, I think you’re better suited to a less clothing-optional environment.  I mean that in a nice way, of course.

Look at these sixteen squares and pick the colour that you find most appealing.  Take your time, this matters.  No, it doesn’t matter if you don’t know the names of all these colours, not everyone could attend school every day, could they?  Well that’s clearly Nasturtium.  And that one’s burnt sienna.  Yes it is a colour, now just pick one!

Right good.  Now, I’m going to show you a list of names, pick out the ones you were called when you were at school.

OK, that many?  Well you’ve got quite a choice ahead of you then; pick out one that hurt most and you really hated, and one that didn’t bother you at all.  Or at least, the one that hurt less than all the others.  You can take your time so long as you’re not going to tell me you don’t know what all the names mean.

Well that one is a bit unusual, but you can find it in the Urban Dictionary.  No, don’t look it up at work.

OK, that’s good.  One more for now; which of these hair-styles have you never tried?

Right, that’s fantastic.  So, taking what you picked, your basic personality type is homicidal.  I get that a lot, I think I’m getting type-cast you know.  Not that this is about me at all.  And your preferred role in a company is… dreamer.  That’s a little unusual, but every company needs someone with a big picture and a vision of how to achieve it.  That’s very useful, this will be why you’ve been gurued.  And the kind of company you’d work best in is… mobile ice-cream sales.

Oh, I am sorry.

Well no, I have to report this back now.  And you might want to think about where you could buy an ice-cream van from.

Buddy: My heart burns like fire

Hi!  You look… well-fed.  Perhaps a little too well-fed, really.  Overstuffed, like a couch.  And that colour you’re turning, well, you know that healthy people can’t manage that colour?  That’s congested blood, pooling in the tissues of your face because your blood-pressure’s up and your heart is struggling to maintain it, despite the fact that you’re neither fit for fight nor flight.  It’s – well, I suppose the closest thing I know is bruising.  Your face is bruising with the strength of my words.

I’m Buddy, I’ve been assigned to you.  What?  Yes, by “Corporate” if that means something to you.  What?  Well why should it mean anything to me?  I’ve just been assigned to you to help you through the troubles and tribulations of corporate life.  I’m like a life coach, only better.  No, I’m not going to shake your hand thank-you, I’ve no clue where it’s been.  Actually, from the look of your face, and the look on your face, I suspect it’s been in the chocolate box a little too often.  I worry that I might contract diabetes by touch.  I’m not interested in your opinion, thank-you very much, please keep it to yourself.  Unless you think you might eat it, in which case putting it in a safe place might be advisable.  How about – oh.

So, desk drawers are not really the right place to keep cream cakes.  You knew that, right?  Oh good.  Well, let’s get started then, since the reasons for me being here are now so apparent.  Let me tell you a little story about the non-dweller.

Once upon a time in a better place than this, where better people than us lived and were happy, was a man who was so close to enlightenment that he seemed almost transparent to everyone who saw him.  When he walked into shops, public baths and inspectorates people would often start, then stare as he walked past them, wondering if what they saw was a man or a ghost.

One day the man walked into a tiny bar where food was served, an izakaya known to everyone who lived in that place, and sat down at a small table where his friend already sat.  In front of his friend was a plate of baked mushrooms sizzling softly in a wide pool of soy sauce, some skewers of tiny whole fish that had been grilled and daubed in chili oil, a bowl of deep-fried shrimp tempura and a selection of spring vegetables heated just sufficiently to make them as vibrant and tasty as had they just been picked.  The non-dweller sat down, and the owner of the izakaya immediately approached him, bowing his head low and offering him the owner’s own sake cup to drink from.  A bottle of sake was placed on the table, and the non-dweller’s friend immediately moved it slightly to one side, away from his food.  The non-dweller looked at him and smiled.

“I believe that my friend is hungry,” he said to the owner of the izakaya.  “Please, bring him all the same dishes again so that he may sate his hunger.”  The owner did as he was bidden, and the non-dweller sipped the sake, drinking perhaps less than a quarter of the cup before the table was overflowing with dishes, and the smell of hot food rose tantalisingly all around them.  People at other tables discreetly leaned in to appreciate the exquisite cooking.

“Will you eat with me,” asked the friend at last, gesturing at the dishes that surrounded him with his chopsticks.  The non-dweller picked up a single skewer of fish and delicately ate a single fish from the tip, then placed the skewer back down.

“Is that it?” asked the friend, but his countenance betrayed his happiness that all the remaining food might be for him.

“One should eat to moderation, and never to the point of satisfaction,” said the non-dweller, and stood up and left the izakaya.

Yes, there is a reason why he’s called the non-dweller, but I don’t think it’s anything you should worry about for now.  The message of the story is not that the protagonist had a name that you find strange.  Perhaps you could think about the story as a whole, instead?

No, it’s not a message that you should start a diet, though if you were to ask me that question I suspect that I would say you should.  Or rather, you should change your current diet, as it is causing you to put cakes in your drawers instead of papers.  Keeping the papers on your desk where you must constantly look at them and remember that you’ve not done anything with them will stress you, and when you are stressed you will crave food like the cake in your drawers.  You are forcing yourself to eat by your actions.

No.  I don’t believe that putting fish in your drawers will solve the problem.  I’ve seen this tried before, all that happens is that you replace your glue-stick with a whipped cream dispenser and start eating creamed fish.  It’s a change to your diet, definitely, but not for the better.  Although no-one will want to sit next to you on the tube, which can be quite useful.

I suppose we could go and talk about the story over lunch.  Where were you thinking of eating?

Oh.  No, I can’t eat there.  My heartburn’s like fire and that would only stoke the flames.  How about… what?  No, none of the restaurants on this list are good for me.  They’re all the ones you have an expense account with?  Really?  McDonalds and an expense account?  That many cheeseburgers?  That would explain a lot.

OK, I’ll be back after you’ve eaten then.  You might want to think about the story of the non-dweller while you’re eating though, as I’ll be asking questions again later.  There are several morals to the tale actually, and I’ll give you one for free: Thin men fit through doorways more easily.  Yes, after you.

Oh.  You actually get stuck in the doorway.  I wasn’t expecting that.

Buddy service

Hi, welcome.  Wipe your feet, sit down.  That's your chair over there, the one with your name on it.  Yes, we know your name.  We've known your name for a long time, we've been expecting you too.  Me?  Oh, you can call me Buddy.  I'm your spiritual advisor in this corporate climate, your life-coach for the long-run, your buddy for the time you spend holding your breath underwater... that might be taking the metaphor a little too far.  Maybe.
Today I want you to think about the people around you.  Can you do that?  Can you picture them in your mind's eye?  Think about the office you work in, think about the people closest to you.  Think of the woman who's a little too old for the clothes she wears, who catches your eye and titillates you with a mixture and of desire and disgust.  Think about the guy two desks over with the sinus problem that means he's always sniffing.  And I mean always.  Think about the receptionist who's clearly only been hired because of how she looks.  The other one, the guy?  Yeah, he was hired for how he looks too.  You can see that now you think about it, can't you?  Think about them all.
Scream if you like.  Let it out.
They're filler.  They're life's extras, they're the walk-on players and the bit parts.  They've never had coaching, they've never been given any lines to learn, or any time in the limelight.  When the spotlight transfixes them, they freeze.  They don't know that the only reason the audience is watching them is because it's time to leave.  Messily, usually.  Remember the guy from accounts who drank so much whiskey his liver burst in the toilets on a Thursday afternoon?
Bit player.
Hack.
Not like you.  You're here to hear what the director has to say, you have a role to play in this life, you're getting your name in the credits.  You're already a success, you just don't know it yet.  And the first piece of advice from the director?  Stop picking your nose when you're on the toilet at work.  It's not a good use of your time and it makes your hands dirty.  Did you notice that I didn't shake hands with you when you came in?  Now you know why.
There are hundred and thousands of people who are just filler, who don't realise that their mundane lives are dull and boring because they're not part of the plot.  When you overhear them on the bus and their conversations are so proletarian and dull, that's because you're listening too hard to them saying "Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb," over and over again and you're mistaking it for thought.  There's no thought, their mouths are just running away, turned on but without the engine turning over.
But they're still waiting and watching, some of them intend to steal your part if you're not looking after it properly.  You can tell; the moment they become interesting they become a threat.  Act decisively and fast whenever you spot someone becoming interesting.  Cut them down, cut them out, cut them up.  Figuratively, not literally.  We know about the knives, ok?  Put them back in their place.  They're filler, it's only what they deserve.
Who?  Well, you know that guy on reception?  Yeah, the good-looking one I was talking about earlier.  Well, he's just started sleeping with the woman who dresses ten years younger than she is.  That's already interesting, isn't it?  And you know what?  If you asked him, he'd do you too.  He's on his way up, he's becoming noticeable.  He's becoming a player.
What should you do?  Sleep with him, of course.  You need to become more interesting to compete and to be blunt, nuns have a better time of it than you do.  So sleep with him, find out something better about yourself.  And read the script; someone's got to die in six pages time.

Buddy jobs

Ah, there you are.  You ought to check your watch when I say that, you know.  Otherwise you don't look quite – ah, let's say dedicated – enough.  And you're late.
Well, you might feel that ten to nine is good enough, but it's not really, not at this level.  You need to be seen being here before everyone else, and be seen leaving after everybody else.  You have your own office, it's not as though you can't spend three or four hours a day doing your own thing.  Except not that thing with your hands and the magazine in the locked drawer of your desk.  That's starting to upset the cleaners.  We know because of the hidden camera in the ceiling tiles.  Well, you'll only be able to prove that it's an intrusion into your privacy if you can find the camera, won't you?
Well, thank-you for asking at last!  I'm Buddy, your guide to corporate culture and the fast track up the greasy pole to the top.  What?  Well yes, most people do find greasy poles rather hard to climb, that's why you need a guide.  And why getting to the top is so worthwhile, and yet so hard.
Your problem, you see, is that you don't work enough.  At this stage of your career you should be empire building, creating a foundation for later on when you'll be able to spend your days drinking coffee, doing the crossword, and occasionally getting some exercise on the golf-course.  What?  Wives are expendable, and, if she's the woman in the picture on your desk then you're going to want to trade her in in the next year or two anyway.  Start simple, get a trophy wife; go for someone with an attractive but fatal wasting disease.  There are some excellent ones available from the right kind of package holiday tour to Africa or South America these days, and you get the benefit of having someone on your arm who makes Victoria Beckham look like a fat heifer and knowing that in two or three years time you'll be able to upgrade again, guilt free.  In fact, make mutual life-insurance policies part of the pre-nup, and you'll even get paid for the upgrade.
Love is a many splendoured thing, to be sure, but it has no place in business.  I can recommend an excellent divorce lawyer for you.  Don't worry, he can find a reason for you to get a divorce.  Actually, if you've got any kind of impotence, that would help a lot.  You haven't?  Well, there's no need to take that tone, I was only asking.  Well, yes, you do look a bit impotent, now you ask.  No, I'm not leaving, not until we've finished talking.
About your working; there's a job you were informed about yesterday in your department.  No, I'm not suggesting you change jobs, I'm suggesting you do two at once.  No, really.
Well yes, it is more work, but you seem happy to turn up at ten to nine, so there's at least two hours of the day you're missing out on.  Come in at seven, go home at seven, skip lunch and you've got nearly a full working day there.  The job's in the same department, so we can acheive synergies and economies from overlaps, and you can easily do both jobs as once.  And, – and this is the key point here! – you deprive someone else from that job.
To successfully build an empire you need to have control.  If you manage multiple jobs, then you can appoint your own people to take out parts of your work, which means that you can end-run the whole recruitment process and steadily fill the department with people who owe their jobs to you.  And when the department is full, you know that it is loyal to you, and if you do it right (I suggest weekly indoctrination meetings) they are loyal only to you.  And then you have people to stand on to help you ascend the greasy pole.
There's another advantage: those people you deprive of jobs while you're doing two or more once: they can then be hired by you privately for a pittance, essentially as slave labour.  They can walk dogs for you, babysit for you, cuckold you to help you get that divorce, and sleep with the stick-insect trophy wife for you since people who are all bones are rarely fun in bed.  You can gradually erode their pay, partly as a function of inflation, and partly because as you tread them down they become more passive and accepting, until you have slaves in a very real sense of the word.  And slave labour can be trained as a private militia.
Ah, I see you're interested now.  Shall we start then by filling out this job application form, and discussing how you're going to convince your boss that you should do both jobs?  Excellent....

Why are you here?

Ah!  You!  I wasn't… I mean, you're early.  I think.  Actually, no, I don't have any names down here on the allocations register… why are you here?
Well yes, I suppose it is your office, and if you want to take that tone with me, then yes I suppose you do have every right to be here.  I wasn't aware that they'd reallocated it though, they usually leave it a little longer after a death.
You didn't know about that?  Jonathon, I think, or was it William?  A boring name, and a boring little man.  He was still in here when they started fumigating the office and apparently chose not to leave.  Not a great loss, by any means, and I'm sure that if he tries haunting you it'll be more tedious than spooky, but there you go.
Why am I here?  Well, I'm Buddy, your emotional comfort in hard times, your unconscious ego, your spiritual guide to a well-lived corporate life.  I'm here to help you resolve what needs resolution and to show you the way forward when the only way up is down.
Are you ok?  You just repeated the same question again.  I've already told you why I'm here.  Oh?  Seriously, you're asking it a third time?
Fine, well then, why am I here?  As far as I can tell, this is karma, this is the universe's way of telling me off for things I've done in a previous life.  Lives.  What's the mass count noun for multitudes of lives?  Oh never mind, lots of previous lives, anyway.  My task now is simply to help other people see the choices ahead of them.  Much as I'd like to give you the order to fire… I mean, much as I'd like to ensure that you make the right choices, that's out of my hands.  All I can do is make sure that you're aware that you have a choice, and that sometimes, some choices are better than others.  Not that chair, it squeaks.
Why are you here?  Well, that's a harder question, and I'm assuming that you won't just be satisfied with the glib "It's your office, and Williathon or whatever his name was needs someone to haunt"?  I didn't think so.  Well, it's a cruel and uncaring universe out there, and there are various spirits that amuse themselves by shepherding people in certain ways.  So there are spirits that have classically been called angels who try to guide people towards opportunities in life, to push them to make choices that allow them to achieve things, either for themselves or for humanity as a whole, that improve the lot of the human race.  Bear in mind that these angels don't care about the people they choose; if they see that your death will result in an improvement of quality-of-life for millions of others, you'll be hounded to jump off a bridge, insult a mob-boss on his birthday, or develop an insatiable hunger for electricity.
Similarly there are spirits that have classically been called demons who simply desire to amuse themselves at humanity's expense, and they can have some very… sophisticated… tastes.  Fall foul of one of them and you might find yourself practising surgery in dark alleys with a rusty can opener.  Possibly on someone else.
Which am I?  I'm neither, I'm a spiritual guide and confidante, I'm someone who's used by other spirits, the neutral, overlooked spirits, to give people options.  Not that tie, you look like you're going to the opera.
Why am I here?  Again?  Today, mostly, I'm here because my last job, though successful, hasn't produced the right kind of ghost for the haunting we'll need here in a couple of weeks time.  Ah, you look worried now; how right you are at last….