E-6

That’s what this post should be noted as, for those of you scoring at home.

I work for an extremely large company. I’ve never had time to count the number of employees SAIC has, but I know it’s more than 10, and less than eleventy billion. As far as I know, we’re the Starbucks of the commercial mall landscape – six times as many of us than any other store (Take that, locally-owned bakery-type store!) It’s nice to be SAIC. You get to do cool things like sponsor the radio broadcasts for the Nationals and the Padres. You get to hold your annual picnic at Six Flags. You get to spell “sarcastic” and “scathing.” It’s a lot of fun.
But despite all the good things that come from being big, there are some drawbacks. For one, a company of this magnitude has plenty of options for career change, growth, and advancement. If you are an employee looking to climb the corporate ladder, there are plenty of rungs in each and every direction. It’s not a ladder, really. It’s like one of those 30 foot wide rope wall ladders, where many people can be climbing at once. (Unless, you miss a rope rung and your foot and adjoined leg go shooting through one of the gaping openings in the whole thing, rendering you motionless and embarrassed.) Think American Gladiators for a visual.

Well, the Gladiator ladder (Gladder?) has claimed another contestant this past week, and he works in my department. I can’t blame him for his choice – he was presented with an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. Those procurement people, always on the go. I’m sure someday, I’ll make a similar move. But as for now, I’m left in an overworked finance department, who just lost a guy who does all of the behind the scenes work. A guy who is an essential part of the team, even if he doesn’t get the recognition from upper management. A guy who’s depended on to be reliable, and relied on to be dependable. So as I come in on this Monday morning to do my job, I know one major thing has changed since last week.

We lost our shortstop.

I feel that our finance department dynamic structure is not unlike a lineup card for a baseball team. As I walk from my car to my desk, I’m walking through a cube maze that vaguely resembles a locker room (without the showers or cold metallic benches.) The best way to win this game against Team “Work we have to Do,” is to play as a team. And while our e-mail signatures may not reflect them, we’ve each got a position to fill.

From a fielding perspective, the analogy is pretty simple. New work steps up to the plate, and most often faces the supervisor of the department. That’s the boss, and as a result, he’s the pitcher. A boss with quick-thinking decision skills may send some work right back to the dugout if he or she has the knowledge to do so. It would be awfully nice to have a Roger Clemens or Randy Johnson boss, whose dynamic sense of problem solving whiffs new work tasks with blazing heat. It would be awfully awful to have a Vincente Padilla boss, who isn’t afraid to blindly delegate this work into the field on four straight balls.

(Subtle prodding of the Phillies to turn things around. I had to.)

As for behind the pitcher, there waits the support staff. Ready and waiting to snag new work with their gloves, these people are ready to throw new work out of the in box and into the outbox. This staff should have the skills and range to handle a ground ball task (routine, but tedious), a fly ball (a bigger hit to your time management, but ultimately easy to handle), a pop out (the occasional “I can’t believe how stupid this is” job), or a line out (fast-approaching deadline, and fumbling it will cause a lot more harm than help.) In this analogy, there is no bunting.

(Only Zuul?)

When everyone shows up to the ballpark, a pitcher can count on 7 able-bodied players to be backing him up. (And the catcher, who would be technically in front of the pitcher) When everyone shows up to our office, the boss can count on 6 able-bodied employees to be filling the task orders. (And the catcher is the boss’ boss, who is constantly observing and giving the pitcher advice on what pitch to throw, er, decision to make.) So as the math never lies, we’re already a player short. Yes, the department headcount was at full capacity, but the workload is at most full capacity. Drat.

Our 4 administrative support staffers man the infield. Since ground ball jobs often go to the infield, it’s pretty routine stuff. Our database manager is our first basemen (most jobs usually end with giving her new information.) Our Accounting Assistant is at second, and doesn’t do a whole lot. He’s a temp who we don’t trust with too much, so it’s wise to keep him on the right side of the infield. Our shortstop is pretty busy, balancing procurement and invoice processing responsibility. And at the hot corner, our former supervisor, now part-time, is ready and waiting for some harder-hit jobs, as well as pitching in on the administrative stuff.

This leaves two financial controllers to man the outfield. These are the larger issues, and versatility requires us to cover more ground. My colleague mans right field, due to her inexperience with the position. Condon is playing left, center, left-center, the rest. I’ve been at the ballpark awhile, so I am able to cover much more ground than anyone else. But now, with the personnel change I alluded to some six ‘graphs ago, there’s a gaping hole. And it’s right in front of me.

What does this mean for the team? Same amount of batters coming to the plate, one more void on the diamond. Until we can sign a free agent, and we have no bench help, it looks like we’ll have to make do. I’m sure 2nd and 3rd may be able to stretch for a few sizzlers to short, but as you can guess, much of it will fall to Condon. Let’s just hope I can hit the first basemen in the air from left. Here’s my stat line for the day.

Condon SS-LF-CF 4/25/05
Eleventy Billion balls hit my way. 14 fielded so far..