Best Company Ever, Chapter 7

It’s been months since I last left the BCE with a mailroom full of penguins. Who knew they would advance of the corporate ladder so fast? I mean, come on! A movie deal? Hey guys when you come back from the your press junket with Morgan Freeman, would you mind doing a quick sort and deliver before you call it a day in the name of Happy Hour? And yeah, you better believe that they have a beer of choice. Doobie, doobie-do.

Taking a break from staffing issues, I figure I might as well talk a little Facilities, you know, to put my last 2.5 years of experience to use. Now no matter what your office setting is, it’s likely that at some point, you’ll find yourself in a meeting. Meetings, because of their pesky requirement of “involving more than one person” rarely can take place in your cube. And I bet your boss’s office isn’t big enough to hold more than two or three people at most. However, divine planning has given us an alternative from cramped convening.

And on the seventh day, the Architect made Conference Rooms.

For the most part, all conference rooms are exactly the same. Big table in the middle of the room, chairs all around (although always one less than you actually need), a credenza for the phone, an empty coffee pot, and enough Styrofoam cups to give Greenpeace a coronary. Throw some corporate art on the wall, maybe an easel or whiteboard for good measure, and dude, you’ve got yourself a meeting place. Hold up.

This is not the format for any conference room at the Corporate HQ of Best Company Ever. No, a BCE Conference Room must be able to provide all the functions of conference rooms at every other sucker company out there. Business must be able to take place, and with a level of importance and like every participant’s comment could mean fortune or failure. With that said, throw out the table, chairs, the Styrofoam and everything else. What this room needs is gaming tables.

Now I’m not just trying to turn a conference room into wherever those damn penguins are drinking right now – hear me out. By installing a corporate set of gaming tables in a conference room, a manager can expect his employees (and visiting clients) to become even more productive than before, and have a little, dare I say, fun in the process. Let’s design the room, shall we?

Regardless of what you plan to do in this conversational mecca, you are going to need a center table to convene around and hammer out an agenda. Papers will be passed around the table, but by the time everybody has their stack of papers ready, Mark in Logistics has fallen asleep. Solution: replace that silly fancypants oak table with an air hockey table and watch as paper magically floats from person to person.

Now a conference room, especially in an awesome company like BCE, needs to be multi-functional. Therefore, our floorplan must suit all of the following needs.

Negotiations – This type of meeting involves a back and forth between two sides as they move towards an inevitable compromise. Well, grab a paddle folks. With a ping pong table, both players must play to get their way. Miss a shot? You have to make a concession.

Strategy – Strategy meetings are also a popular reason to reserve a conference room. These are often difficult because there are too many balls up in the air to hammer out a plan of attack. It’s time to get said balls out of the air and onto the table. Grab a cue stick, we’re playing pool. Tackle the issues one-by-one until only the eight ball is left.

Personnel – Annually, important managers must do the impossible – performance reviews for a cadre of employees that they have no idea who they actually are. In order to make the random assignment of wage increases fun, throw the employees names on the backs of all the foosball players on that new table where the credenza was. Do a post-game evaluation of their efforts, and adjust salary accordingly.

Budgeting – We’ll just use the way we use to do budgeting now for costs and revenues that are completely unpredictable. Get Maintenance on the phone, we’ve got to hang ourselves a dartboard.

The Nomenclature of Cool

Who needs introductory paragraphs and comedic meandering? I’m just going to come out and say what’s been on my mind this morning, opting against my usual beaten path of verbosity.

The coolest name I’ve ever heard is Wolf Blitzer.

Blitzer, the face of cable news, is a man you should all know by face, but at the very least, by his incredible name. The silver-bearded rock of an anchor has covered every major conflict, disaster, and election for CNN since the early 90’s. His delivery is calming, his knowledge base is extensive, and his journalistic integrity is awe-inspiring. But even if he was a maniacal dolt who spent the last 8 years making up stories for Cat Fancy magazine, I’d still listen to him: because of the name.

What’s more, Blitzer is using his actual first name. When it comes to television news, anchors are not adverse to changing their names to garner greater appeal (Hey Philly readers, did you know Jim Gardner on Ch. 6 is really James Goldman?) But Mr. Blitzer goes by the name he was given upon birth – that of his grandfather. I was named after by great-grandfather. Just imagine where I’d be if his name had been something like “Thor” or “Indiana” or “Action.”

Thankfully, my great-grandfather wasn’t named Ron, either. I wouldn’t want to be Ron Condon. (Yep, Rondon.)

But while you may all know Wolf Blitzer for his reporting expertise behind a desk, his unbelievably cool name has gained him many other avenues of fame that the readers of YAB may not yet know about. Here’s a sampling…

TEEN WOLF – Forget Michael J. Fox. It is a little known fact that like many other great movies (A Beautiful Mind, Ray), Teen Wolf is based upon a true story. Sad but true, it told the real-life trials and tribulations of a young Wolf Blitzer in his hometown of Syracuse, New York.

BEEN AROUND THE WORLD – In the seventies, the man toured Europe as a correspondent reporter. He was so proficient at his job that they sent this American Werewolf to both London and Paris on many an occasion.

AIRWOLF - For a great eight years in the eighties, Blitzer contributed his name and his efforts to the television show Airwolf. Not only was he the mastermind behind the CIA operation known as “The Firm,” he can also be credited with coming up with the best theme song in the history of TV.

WOLF – Remember Jack Nicholson’s weird werewolf movie from 1994? Guess who did all his stunts.

PETER AND THE WOLF – Forget the play with the stupid oboe. In the mid 90’s, when it was slow at the news desk, Blitzer teamed with fellow anchor Peter Jennings to perform a two-man show just off Broadway. Their rendition of “Who’s on First” won critical acclaim.

GREAT SCOTT! – This is CNN, America’s Most Trusted News Source. I’m Wolf Blitzer. This just in: Scott Wolf sucks.

CLASSICAL REPORTING – In 2002, Blitzer took the greatest works of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and performed them live for the United States Congress. Armed with a piano, a string section, and working knowledge of the Israeli-Palestinian diplomacy, he received a standing ovation at the outdoor theatre affectionately known as – yep – Wolf Trap.

DURAN DURAN – Yeah. They’re hungry like him.

Trotter? I don't even know her!

Since I lack the skills, the connections, and the technical know-how, my chances of becoming a radio disc jockey are pretty damn slim. In addition, I am not a national recording artist with a hit single on the charts, so it’s equally unlikely that you’ll hear me getting a spin with my latest parody. Now the FCC is effectively a public domain, and I really have no way of taking my freedom of speech and getting my beautiful baritone voice over your airwaves. The FM dial will forever be an island that I cannot visit. But as the contemporary Buddhist scholar Everclear once said – “You could listen to the people on the AM Radio.”

In Philly, we have mastered the sports talk radio scene. We’ve got a bunch of South Philly Italians and a jerk named Eskin, we’ve given them multi-hour blocks of airtime, and we let them talk sports ALL DAY LONG. With every show a local broadcast, 610 WIP turns a fan base into a rabid one faster than Allen Iverson hits the showers after practice. (Practice?) This is a major reason Philly has some of the most die-hard followers in the country.

I called into 610 WIP once. I was like 19, and I made some comment about the importance of rolling four lines in a hockey playoff series, and how the Flyers would crunch the Bruins in Round 1. It wasn’t great, but it at least got my feet wet in the forum of “making my sports knowledge known to a metropolitan region.” Even if I never make it to the SportsCenter anchor desk, I would have at least had my 15 minutes of fame (or a buck-forty, as it were.) But that was then. This is now.

DC also has become proficient with the sports radio format, teaming with ESPN to maintain SportsTalk 980 AM. And just like 610 is a flagship for all things Eagles, Flyers, Sixers, and Phils, 980 serves the fanbase of the Washington teams. And in case you didn’t notice, said fanbase – not a huge cheering section for the City of Brotherly Love. Yesterday will go down as the day that I, Chris Condon, shut up a city of idiots.

(Citiots.)

(Note: not all DC fans are idiots. Most of quite knowledgeable, and love their teams, win or lose. And Philly has the same subsect of fans, too. So this is a disclaimer to let you all know I’m just talking about a small section of DC natives who have gone insane. Oh, and George Bush doesn’t care for the Washington Wizards.)

I flicked on 980 when I was out running some errands on break yesterday. I couldn’t tell you who was the host, but it wasn’t Kornheiser or Dan Patrick. The topic at hand was essentially this: an picture has been circulating via e-mail of a guy walking down a street in Philly with a black and red t-shirt on. He’s walking away from the camera, so all you can see is his back. Like a jersey in big red letters, the name across the shoulders is SATAN with the big 81 underneath. The spin of the e-mail and the current talkradio topic is that Philadelphia is a city that has completely turned on their star wide receiver, T.O., and even their beloved Eagles.

The first few callers took turns taking shots at Owens, which I’m cool with. He’s been a distraction all off-season long, and I can understand that. Sure, there are people who are vehemently against him these days in the Delaware Valley. Fine. But when the next few callers pointed out that the Redskins won yesterday, and without the fan support Philly is headed for the cellar of the NFC East. The host added that he expects the T.O. Satan jersey to make more than a few appearance at the Birds’ first home game next week.

This is when it hit me. Oh my God, I have to call. NOW.

Fifteen minutes later and a few more “Washington in the Super Bowl” callers later (you beat the Bears, guys. Chill.), the following exchange took place on SportsTalk 980:

Host: Hi, you’re on SportsTalk 980.
Condon: Hi there. I’m a long-time listener, first-time caller.
Host: Thanks for the call. What’s up?
Condon: Yes, well, as both a Philly fan and a hockey fan, I felt I needed to throw my hat into this conversation about the T.O. jersey. You see, I don’t think it’s that the city has turned on the Eagles at all. Regardless of all the off-season craziness.
Host: Ok, how do you know?
Condon: Well, that’s just a feeling I have. But I can at least tell you all that the Satan t-shirt doesn’t represent the views of Eagles fans in the least. As I said, I am a huge hockey fan. Which allows me to realize that this isn’t a T.O. mocking at all. What you fail to realize is that the Buffalo Sabres, whose colors are RED and BLACK, had a winger for the last several years named Miroslav Satan (pronounced shuh-tan) who just happens to wear number 81.
Host: (awkward pause.) Oh. Well then, I guess that closes and seals this topic. Moving on…

(Today's title courtesy of Jasen Andersen)

Wine in a Box, Cheese in a Can

Have you ever wanted to host a wine and cheese party, but didn’t know where to being? No, not at all? Too bad. That’s what I’m writing about anyway.

This past weekend, the Condons at the ‘fax held a small gathering for some friends in the area under the moniker “Wine and Cheese and Mayhem.” I know what you are thinking – what’s with the name. Well, the first two components happened to be the pre-selected food and drink for the evening, while the latter components was thrown in thanks to my marketing savvy ways. I didn’t learn much from my marketing major, but I did learn that in order to have a marketable product, it helps to give the people what they want. And in my strange line of thought, I decided that above all else, people just really want mayhem. Therefore, proclaim it, and hope that lots of wine erases any notion of empty promises.

Ok, with the invitation in the mail, it’s time to make you can at least come through on the pledge to have wine and cheese. And since the current State of the Fridge address only can vouch for some sandwich slices for American and very un-winelike case of Yuengling, it looks like an external supplier must be sought out. Good thing we live within walking distance to the Roman Coliseum of supermarkets.

Road Trip to Wegman’s!

Wegman’s, much unlike supermarkets named after a kings of their respective jungles, has the style and the floor space to house extensive wine and cheese selections. They actually have a wine cellar. But unlike most cellars, it is well-lit, well-ventilated, and I would be more than happy to evacuate to such a cellar the next time a tornado threatens Northern Virginia.

No wine cellar is complete without a WineGod. This is the guy who roams the shelves and shelves of wine, having a vast base on wine-to-food pairings at his fingertips. Having chicken cacciatore with a side of asparagus? He’ll pull this rieseling from some one-armed vineyard guy in Germany off the shelf. Having steak with a side of steak, to be followed by a steak truffle? Cabernet, hand picked by some guy he knows in the Napa Valley. Dining on Tater Tots and Fritos? Go upstairs, you cretin. WineGod has no time for you.

(But he will suggest a Zinfandel under his breath.)

Once your cart has been filled to the brim with wine, it’s time to head upstairs to the cheese section. Wow, it occurs to me that “cheese section” does not nearly do the place justice. Let’s say that the standard back-of-store chilled case with the obligatory cheese foods, blocks, and bags of shredded variety can be represented by that baseball field you grew up near that had the dirt infield and the orange roll-up fence for an outfield boundary. Got it?

Wegman’s is Yankee Stadium.

First thing you need to realize is this. At least 70% of the cheese there will be completely foreign to you. (And this has nothing to do with the fact 70% of the cheese is actually from other countries.) Also, as helpful as the WineGod was downstairs, there is no CheeseGod upstairs. Just a stockboy, removing fresh mozzarella from a container of ice and water.

I had no idea that mozzarella was an underwater cheese.

Nonetheless, stick to what you know – buy what you can pronounce, what’s not too expensive, what actually looks like cheese. Take a few leaps unto the unknown, and even brie can be seen as an option. If there’s ever an occasion for brie, it’s a wine and cheese and mayhem party. Not exactly your NFL-watching cheese.

There’s a lot more prep work involved, but I’m out of space. My internal editor just smacked me in the back of the head. More later.

(Postscript: There was a limited supply of mayhem. But I think somebody mistook it for a nice merlot.)

Metroblog

First things first – I’m not blogging while sitting on the Metro. First off, there’s nowhere to plug in my laptop. Secondly, much like my adventures in air travel, I have some difficulty typing the funny while my knees rest deep within my ribcage. Thirdly, as I have to assume wireless connection is about as reliable as cell phone coverage, this post would probably look something like the following:

“A funny thing happened on the way to my first class of the first semester. When I got off the Metro at Fog ------- ttom, there was this adorable los --- uppy, trying frantically to walk ----- the ---- p ---- scalator. Ev --------------- wner was dow-------e, I’m pre--- th----ppy ---- didn’t------farecard. --------------------------------- q ------------- lo --- ory --- never buying street vendor ice cream again.”

Nonetheless, this is my Metroblog. And sometime in the not too distant past, I found myself riding the finest vehicles the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority had to offer. As I have yet to master parking in Foggy Bottom DC for anywhere less than $30, I am resorting to spending a daily $8.95 to take the subway in and out of our Nation’s Capital. Heck, maybe I’m even saving money, considering I could but a plasma TV with the sum it takes to fill my Accord at the pump.

Most of my time on this peoplemover will either consist of sleeping with my head propped up against the glass or reading for the class that I’m due to have in a matter of minutes. The percentages for each activity is still undetermined, but why do I get a sneaking suspicion they will fall in the 97 vs. 3 area?

Going into the city, I have little complain about. At rush hour, the primary goal of the region’s citizenry is to get out of the city. They’ve paid their dues, bought their SmarTrip card and are headed out. I, in a true act of counterculture, am headed in. So as I sit on a largely-empty Metrorail car, I have some time to view the literature on above the windows:

6 Reasons You’re Riding the Nation’s BEST Public Transportation

1. No Smoking – Alright, good start, Metro. Totally agree with you on this. There’s nothing worse than coming home from a Nats game at 10:30PM standing in one giant cloud of smoke. (Ok, maybe it’s worse if you’re coming home from a Nats game at 10:30PM and you’ve lied to Congress about taking steroids. Eech.)
2. No Food or Drink – Ok, here’s where Metro’s claim of being the best goes awry. I totally understand that food and drink could mess with other passengers, but man, what an ideal time to take in some sustenance. Just bring enough to share with your seatmate, and let’s call it a day. (Don’t eat candy though. Offering it to the kid sitting next to you will go against everything he learned in Safety class.)
3. No Trash or Spitting – Yes, in an idealist community, the floors and seats are spot-free, spic-and-span, and if you were allowed food or drink on this train, you could dine right off of the carpet. In a metro community, there’s enough old USA Today copies to stuff a piñata. As for spitting, we're not in France, cool with me.
4. No Flammable Substances or Materials – This is what makes our Metro the best? Are you telling me that in Boston or New York, they’re totally cool with commuters carrying kerosene-soaked stacks of newspapers and old cans of varnish onboard?
5. No Audio or Video Devices – Now in the Age of iPod, most people are content with listening to their tunes by themselves courtesy of a nice small set of headphones. I am not most people. If this really was the best of the best, I want that aforementioned plasma showing me movies I don’t have time to see in the theaters. Like The Interpreter and Hitchhiker’s Guide.
6. No Animals – Two Words: Monkey Conductors.