03.17.2004 - 12:19 p.m.
Yesterday was a Workplace anomaly; at an office where cats roam the halls and engineers wear fluffy slippers, we had a consultant come in to coach us on how to come up with a shared corporate vision.
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I know, I know, it sounded god-awful to me too. At the last company I worked for, I endured a weekend 'vision retreat' that was mind-numbingly boring, produced no results whatsoever, and included these inspiring words from our useless president, after knocking on the door of the cabin myself and two other female coworkers were staying in: "I was hoping you gals were undressed already!".
As it turned out, yesterday was actually sort of fun. We broke into groups and did various exercises, and there was a lot of laughing and goofing around. I was surprised and pleased to see that so many of my coworkers had similar goals for Workplace, and a fairly common understanding of our challenges.
Later in the day, we each had to try our hand at coming up with a vision statement. I found this UNBELIEVABLY difficult. I sat scowling at my pad of paper, scratching my head like a chimpanzee and wondering where exactly my loose grip on the english language had disappeared to.
This is transcribed verbatim from my furiously crossed out scribbles:
We are known for being an industry leader. Because of us...
We improve the way people feel about software.
Our customers enjoy using our software and are able to achieve...
We are changing the world...
If that wasn't bad enough, we then had to share our vision stuff with our groups. I reeled off my abortive sentences sheepishly, explaining that I needed to be excused because I had apparently eaten a big batch of retard for breakfast. Some of my coworkers had managed to produce some non-sucky statements, and a lively discussion ensued about whether software could legitimately be called "fun".
"I don't think using software is fun. It's like using a tool."
"Yeah, but what if the tool is really cool? Then it's fun."
"Do you think a hammer is fun?"
"No, but a nail gun is!"
"Heh. Cool. Nail gun."
The consultant asked us to read our group's collective vision statement, and I raised my hand proudly. "Our software should not be a hammer, it should be a NAIL GUN," I blared.
She raised her eyebrow at me. "That's, um, very interesting," she said, mentally filing me under B for Blithering Idiot.
Obviously, I should NOT be allowed to contribute to the Workplace vision.