The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. It was written at the height of the Silicon Valley bubble in 1999.
The characters in this Greek Tragedy are:
Dawn - Tax Consultant
Marie - Tax Director
Paul - Manager of something or other
Bill - Account Temp type person
Dawn, Marie, and I have been working together very well, they're both knowledgeable and hard working. Dawn has been trying to extract herself from the company, as she was brought in for a 3 month project and has been there over a year. A decision to bring in Bill to take over her routine tasks is made and that's when our little story begins.
When I meet Bill, he seems very nice and tells me he was central to his last company's Tax automation project. I'm relieved, at least he has some experience, this should be cake.
When I begin the training classes, I notice that Bill has the usual problems of a person with no experience with a new system. That's O.K., he just needs some time to practice. But as time goes by, I begin to get the uneasy feeling that he's just not getting it. What I didn't realize until too late, is that he didn't get ANY of it. None, nada, nichts, keine, neima, ikke.
I went to great pains to create step by step documentation for doing major things. I'm not talking outlines, I'm talking baby steps, and he's still tripping over his own two feet.
After about 6 weeks I've only been dealing with Bill about an hour a week, but alarm bells are ringing like the Chicago Fire. Dawn and I begin to discuss our mutual issue, as it turns out she's frustrated because Bill can't do the tasks correctly. All he has to do is file the tax returns, fairly straightforward considering his claimed experience. However the day they are due he hands them to her all screwed up and she has to scramble to fix things. She's tried to express to Marie that Bill can't handle the job.
Marie is just not dealing with the issue. "Things will work out", she says. Well they do, for Marie. A week later she's on her way to a company about to go IPO.
Now Dawn is really upset, and with good reason. Her credibility may be damaged, if there are big losses, people won't hire her.
Then one day during training, now mind you I'm only training Dawn and Bill at my desk, Bill falls asleep and begins snoring.
Whoop! Whoop! "Captain! Romulan Warbird decloaking directly a head!"
“That's OK”, I think, “He's not getting any less than if he was awake”.
By this time I'm beginning to call him Mr. Double Click. He can't seem to master the art of double clicking his mouse. He's clicking like mad, but the timing is all off and bizarre things are happening on the screen. I'm seeing screens I've never seen before. I'm incredulous.
One day the DBA, Vinod, stops me in the hall to tell me he spent a couple of hours assisting Bill.
"Mark", he says shaking his head, "He should not be allowed near a computer". Yeah, tell me about it.
Whoop! Whoop! "Captain! Romulan Warbird has fired a photon torpedo!"
But the Captain isn't listening. Nobody really wants to be bothered, the company itself is going through an acquisition and spinoff to take advantage of the insanity of the stock market bubble. Management is as limp as a noodle. Everybody's too busy making money to think about the laws and the future. What counts is the company's stock price today. The excuses start, "Well maybe Bill needs more training. We need to sit down with him and define expectations. Blah, blah, blah".
But now it becomes obvious Bill is not doing anything. I know the month is over, but not a single question about the reports needed for his returns is forthcoming. As this is his only job, what the hell is he doing with his time?
One day I come over and help Bill get some reports. He's clicking all over the screen.
"Where are your instructions?"
Bill roots through some folders and comes up with my step by step instructions. He then proceeds to ignore them and is clicking wildly again.
"Captain! We're hit! Shields at 50%!"
"What do the instructions say", I ask.
He looks at the instructions, unseeing, mutters something, and begins clicking wildly again.
"What do the instructions say", I repeat, a bit louder.
"Captain! Shields have collapsed! We're at their mercy!"
"Oh, Reports-Run", he replies. More wild clicking follows.
"WHAT DO THE INSTRUCTIONS SAY!"
"Captain! We're hit! We've lost Deck 6! Shouldn't we respond?"
I'm now growling in rage. Is it possible to be this stupid? I begin to envision the 11 o'clock news...
"Reports say the victim was hit repeatedly from behind with a blunt instrument"
This is the last straw, Dawn mounts a full court press to put Bill out of our misery but is rebuffed by Paul. I really don't get this, he's a contractor, that's why you hire contractors, so you can get rid of them easily.
Now granted there's not a lot of people out there to replace Bill. I swear as I pass by the county prison on the way to lunch that some days I see corporate recruiters waiting outside the gate to get the latest available labor supply as they are released at noon.
"Do you speak English? No? How about computer skills? None? Okay, here's your offer, and you get 5000 options to start."
Finally I show up to speak to Paul to put in the word that I'm not going to spend my time babysitting his temp. I also discover that the reports need to be re-run, so I pop into Bill's cube.
"Bill, we need to re-run those reports". I stop in my tracks. There on his screen, open in a web browser, is a woman, naked, on her knees, leaning back on one hand in a most unattractive pose, grimacing at me.
Now I'm no prude, I think the massive prevalence of web porn is directly attributable to our Puritan founders and we just haven't been able to relax a bit about sex in 400 years, but you have to be a moron to surf porn at work. And to top it off I found myself in violent disagreement with Bill’s taste in women. Really guy? All the free stuff out there and this is what you like? You sick bastard.
Bill is surprised and embarrassed. He tries to close the screen. Furious clicking ensues.
I stand there speechless.
He can't do it. The naked woman starts moving around his screen. More clicks and more web browsers start and more porn pops up, it’s multiplying exponentially like an out of control wild fire. He's trying to close them as fast as they're opening, and having no luck.
I look away. I just can't watch. I'm not sure what is more disgusting, the porn, or the computer ineptness. Seconds tick by as slow as molasses being sucked through a straw by an emphysema victim on one lung.
Waiting.
Waiting..
Waiting....
The clicking stops. He must be done, we can now do the reports. I turn back. The bitch is still there in all her glory. Mocking me. Ug.
Bill finally decides to use the menus to close things up. That's when I notice his toolbar.
Totally empty.
It's not like he was doing work and got distracted, he wasn't doing anything except cruising porn!
"Oh My God!", I realize,"He can't do anything right. I'm working with George Costanza from Seinfeld! That’s what this is, I'm in a sitcom. This is a joke. If given some more time he'll have a little bed built under his desk so he can take a nap unobserved." I begin looking under the desk for an alarm clock on a shelf.
Not yet. I turn around, looking for the video camera. None to be found, this is real life.
We both act like nothing happened and he re-runs the report with me standing behind him like Dilbert with his boss, directing his actions.
"Now move the mouse left. Up a little more. A little moooorrrree...now click. No, not there! O.K. close that. Move to that little 'X'..."
This goes no further. I finally have a weapon which is unassailable. I march into Paul's office and explain that normally I wouldn't complain about the web porn thing, after all people surf their stocks and kids stuff all the time, but the fact that the reports are all tucked away where they can't possibly be worked on ticks me off to no end.
Paul cracks up when I tell him the story. It turns out that he's already talked to Bill about it once. He was caught printing the pictures! Paul finally agrees George Costanza, umm, Bill, must go.
What? He's been caught once, talked to, and is still doing it? How much more stupid can he be? How much more stupid can you be Paul? This is amazing! This is identical to the episode where George kept trying to get fired by the Yankees and couldn't. I am truly living a sitcom. Sitcom Valley, that's what this is.
But in the end it turns out that this will be all for Bill. He's gone over the edge. Not because he's stupid, incompetent, and unable to perform the job, but because he's politically incorrect.
Well whatever, as long as he's gone.
The characters in this Greek Tragedy are:
Dawn - Tax Consultant
Marie - Tax Director
Paul - Manager of something or other
Bill - Account Temp type person
Dawn, Marie, and I have been working together very well, they're both knowledgeable and hard working. Dawn has been trying to extract herself from the company, as she was brought in for a 3 month project and has been there over a year. A decision to bring in Bill to take over her routine tasks is made and that's when our little story begins.
When I meet Bill, he seems very nice and tells me he was central to his last company's Tax automation project. I'm relieved, at least he has some experience, this should be cake.
When I begin the training classes, I notice that Bill has the usual problems of a person with no experience with a new system. That's O.K., he just needs some time to practice. But as time goes by, I begin to get the uneasy feeling that he's just not getting it. What I didn't realize until too late, is that he didn't get ANY of it. None, nada, nichts, keine, neima, ikke.
I went to great pains to create step by step documentation for doing major things. I'm not talking outlines, I'm talking baby steps, and he's still tripping over his own two feet.
After about 6 weeks I've only been dealing with Bill about an hour a week, but alarm bells are ringing like the Chicago Fire. Dawn and I begin to discuss our mutual issue, as it turns out she's frustrated because Bill can't do the tasks correctly. All he has to do is file the tax returns, fairly straightforward considering his claimed experience. However the day they are due he hands them to her all screwed up and she has to scramble to fix things. She's tried to express to Marie that Bill can't handle the job.
Marie is just not dealing with the issue. "Things will work out", she says. Well they do, for Marie. A week later she's on her way to a company about to go IPO.
Now Dawn is really upset, and with good reason. Her credibility may be damaged, if there are big losses, people won't hire her.
Then one day during training, now mind you I'm only training Dawn and Bill at my desk, Bill falls asleep and begins snoring.
Whoop! Whoop! "Captain! Romulan Warbird decloaking directly a head!"
“That's OK”, I think, “He's not getting any less than if he was awake”.
By this time I'm beginning to call him Mr. Double Click. He can't seem to master the art of double clicking his mouse. He's clicking like mad, but the timing is all off and bizarre things are happening on the screen. I'm seeing screens I've never seen before. I'm incredulous.
One day the DBA, Vinod, stops me in the hall to tell me he spent a couple of hours assisting Bill.
"Mark", he says shaking his head, "He should not be allowed near a computer". Yeah, tell me about it.
Whoop! Whoop! "Captain! Romulan Warbird has fired a photon torpedo!"
But the Captain isn't listening. Nobody really wants to be bothered, the company itself is going through an acquisition and spinoff to take advantage of the insanity of the stock market bubble. Management is as limp as a noodle. Everybody's too busy making money to think about the laws and the future. What counts is the company's stock price today. The excuses start, "Well maybe Bill needs more training. We need to sit down with him and define expectations. Blah, blah, blah".
But now it becomes obvious Bill is not doing anything. I know the month is over, but not a single question about the reports needed for his returns is forthcoming. As this is his only job, what the hell is he doing with his time?
One day I come over and help Bill get some reports. He's clicking all over the screen.
"Where are your instructions?"
Bill roots through some folders and comes up with my step by step instructions. He then proceeds to ignore them and is clicking wildly again.
"Captain! We're hit! Shields at 50%!"
"What do the instructions say", I ask.
He looks at the instructions, unseeing, mutters something, and begins clicking wildly again.
"What do the instructions say", I repeat, a bit louder.
"Captain! Shields have collapsed! We're at their mercy!"
"Oh, Reports-Run", he replies. More wild clicking follows.
"WHAT DO THE INSTRUCTIONS SAY!"
"Captain! We're hit! We've lost Deck 6! Shouldn't we respond?"
I'm now growling in rage. Is it possible to be this stupid? I begin to envision the 11 o'clock news...
"Reports say the victim was hit repeatedly from behind with a blunt instrument"
This is the last straw, Dawn mounts a full court press to put Bill out of our misery but is rebuffed by Paul. I really don't get this, he's a contractor, that's why you hire contractors, so you can get rid of them easily.
Now granted there's not a lot of people out there to replace Bill. I swear as I pass by the county prison on the way to lunch that some days I see corporate recruiters waiting outside the gate to get the latest available labor supply as they are released at noon.
"Do you speak English? No? How about computer skills? None? Okay, here's your offer, and you get 5000 options to start."
Finally I show up to speak to Paul to put in the word that I'm not going to spend my time babysitting his temp. I also discover that the reports need to be re-run, so I pop into Bill's cube.
"Bill, we need to re-run those reports". I stop in my tracks. There on his screen, open in a web browser, is a woman, naked, on her knees, leaning back on one hand in a most unattractive pose, grimacing at me.
Now I'm no prude, I think the massive prevalence of web porn is directly attributable to our Puritan founders and we just haven't been able to relax a bit about sex in 400 years, but you have to be a moron to surf porn at work. And to top it off I found myself in violent disagreement with Bill’s taste in women. Really guy? All the free stuff out there and this is what you like? You sick bastard.
Bill is surprised and embarrassed. He tries to close the screen. Furious clicking ensues.
I stand there speechless.
He can't do it. The naked woman starts moving around his screen. More clicks and more web browsers start and more porn pops up, it’s multiplying exponentially like an out of control wild fire. He's trying to close them as fast as they're opening, and having no luck.
I look away. I just can't watch. I'm not sure what is more disgusting, the porn, or the computer ineptness. Seconds tick by as slow as molasses being sucked through a straw by an emphysema victim on one lung.
Waiting.
Waiting..
Waiting....
The clicking stops. He must be done, we can now do the reports. I turn back. The bitch is still there in all her glory. Mocking me. Ug.
Bill finally decides to use the menus to close things up. That's when I notice his toolbar.
Totally empty.
It's not like he was doing work and got distracted, he wasn't doing anything except cruising porn!
"Oh My God!", I realize,"He can't do anything right. I'm working with George Costanza from Seinfeld! That’s what this is, I'm in a sitcom. This is a joke. If given some more time he'll have a little bed built under his desk so he can take a nap unobserved." I begin looking under the desk for an alarm clock on a shelf.
Not yet. I turn around, looking for the video camera. None to be found, this is real life.
We both act like nothing happened and he re-runs the report with me standing behind him like Dilbert with his boss, directing his actions.
"Now move the mouse left. Up a little more. A little moooorrrree...now click. No, not there! O.K. close that. Move to that little 'X'..."
This goes no further. I finally have a weapon which is unassailable. I march into Paul's office and explain that normally I wouldn't complain about the web porn thing, after all people surf their stocks and kids stuff all the time, but the fact that the reports are all tucked away where they can't possibly be worked on ticks me off to no end.
Paul cracks up when I tell him the story. It turns out that he's already talked to Bill about it once. He was caught printing the pictures! Paul finally agrees George Costanza, umm, Bill, must go.
What? He's been caught once, talked to, and is still doing it? How much more stupid can he be? How much more stupid can you be Paul? This is amazing! This is identical to the episode where George kept trying to get fired by the Yankees and couldn't. I am truly living a sitcom. Sitcom Valley, that's what this is.
But in the end it turns out that this will be all for Bill. He's gone over the edge. Not because he's stupid, incompetent, and unable to perform the job, but because he's politically incorrect.
Well whatever, as long as he's gone.
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