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Showing posts from December, 2024

Marjorie's Journey to Grow as a Manager

Marjorie Winters prided herself on efficiency. As the manager of a bustling marketing agency, she believed that her job was to ensure deadlines were met, budgets adhered to, and clients left impressed. Her desk was a shrine to productivity: color-coded folders, neatly stacked reports, and a mug declaring "World's Best Boss" (a self-purchase she never admitted). Yet lately, there had been murmurs. A whispered complaint here, an eye-roll there. Projects were on time, but the energy in the office felt... off. Determined to prove herself the leader she knew she could be, Marjorie implemented a new feedback initiative: the Mirror Report . Employees could anonymously submit feedback under two categories: "Reflections" (things Marjorie was doing well) and "Smudges" (areas needing improvement). The first batch of reports was sobering. Reflections: "Marjorie is great at keeping the team organized." "She's decisive and clear about expectatio...

Revised Corporate Mottoes for 2025

Google: "Do no evil -- on Fridays, between 4:30 pm and 5 pm." "All your thoughts are belong to us." "One search to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them." "Google product graveyard tours start on the hour, every hour, between 8 am and 10 pm, PST. Follow the happy guides with the multicolored open umbrellas." Microsoft : "That's a nice little company you've built there. It would be a shame if something happened to it." "Your dependence is our innovation." "We'll stop supporting you when the world stops supporting us." "Please do not turn off your mind until the upgrade is completed." Apple: "For your convenience, you can now direct deposit your paycheck to the Apple Store." "Selling you back the illusion of freedom, one device at a time." "Would you like a device with your adapter? We also sell adapter for our adapters. Tesla: "As an add-on to your car pur...

Fritz the Feline Philosopher

Fritz was no ordinary alley cat. His sleek black fur gave him a regal air, but his most prized possession was his mind—a curious and ever-questioning one. While other cats were content to lounge in the sun or stalk the occasional mouse, Fritz roamed the neighborhood with a singular mission: to liberate his fellow felines from the tyranny of dogma. One sunny morning, Fritz found Marmalade, a chubby orange tabby, staring intently at a wall. "What's the fascination, Marmalade?" Fritz asked, tilting his head. "There's a shadow," Marmalade replied, tail flicking. "I'm certain it's the ghost of Whiskerclaw, the Great Mouser." Fritz sighed. "Marmalade, my dear friend, dogma will only leave you barking up the wrong tree. Why don't you step back and examine the evidence? That shadow's probably just a bush swaying in the wind." Marmalade blinked. "But... what if it is Whiskerclaw?" "And what if it's just a squirr...

After Eating a Small Piece of Camembert Cheese

Yesterday, I ate a small piece of Camembert cheese and all of a sudden I wanted to create a unified theory of physics, I started speaking Swahili when I barely spoke Swahili before, developed several new economic theories rooted in quantum computing, played the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody using spoons, redesigned several electric motors to boost their efficiency by more than 40 percent, using satellite imagery, located several lost civilizations that had been previously overlooked, found more than twenty errors in peer reviewed scientific papers, explored several new genres of art and music, wrote satirical works that made fun of my satirical works, wrote and delivered several TEDx talks on a wide range of subjects, wrote a brief to break up the antitrust division of the Federal Trade Commission, postulated that nuclear fusion can be achieved faster by using cabbage. As the evening wore on, the effects of the Camembert began to wane. My Swahili reverted to the occasional "Jamb...

The Humble Virtues of a Simple Private Jet

I have often thought that the question of how one ought to live is as perennial as the seasons, and as susceptible to overcomplication as the foliage of a tangled wood. To live deliberately, with purpose, requires discernment: a stripping away of the superfluous so that the essential may shine forth. And yet, in this age of noise and haste, we find ourselves burdened by the overornamentation of our means. I submit, dear reader, that even in the realm of private aviation—perhaps especially there—simplicity is the truest luxury. It is not the extravagance of the flight, nor the ostentation of its trappings, that speaks to the nobility of human endeavor. A gilded fuselage or a chandelier within the cabin may dazzle the senses, but they do little to elevate the spirit. Far better to have a simple, unadorned jet: one that carries us swiftly, efficiently, and humbly to where we must go. The grandeur of the journey lies not in the seat coverings or the champagne served but in the soaring per...

Don't Buy a Flood Light, Unless You Have Flood Insurance

Before buying a flood light, make sure you first have flood insurance. A flood light could fill your house with light that could take weeks to remove. There are companies you can hire to remediate flood light damage, but those services are often expensive. If you're tempted to handle the flood light cleanup yourself, proceed with caution. Amateur efforts often result in streaky lighting patterns, overly bright corners, or—worst of all—shadow pooling. Shadow pooling is no joke; it can create ominous pockets in your home where lost socks, car keys, and existential doubts tend to gather. For those feeling brave, the DIY route begins with protective eyewear (and, ideally, a poet's heart, because flood light management is equal parts science and art). First, you'll need to sweep the excess light into manageable piles using a high-lumen dustpan. Remember, always work from the edges of the room toward a central point to avoid runaway beams escaping into closets or under furniture....

Mount Everest - First Person

Stop crawling up my spine. The hubris of your species never fails to amaze me. I'm a slab of rock -- and I've got more intelligence than y'all. I'm just a mountain who wants to go to work every day and spend time with my little mountains. Stop bothering me. Just stop it. Do you think planting your little flags in my snow is some kind of profound achievement? Please. You think you're conquering me? I'm not a prize to be won. I've been here longer than you can imagine, and I'll still be here long after you're gone, whether your flag is flapping up here or not. The truth is, you're not conquering me. You're just rolling the dice with your fragile little lives. You call it a challenge. I call it foolishness. Why do you need to risk your lives to feel like you've accomplished something? Is the only way to measure your worth by the number of dangers you've dodged? Here's an idea: why don't you climb the metaphorical mountains in you...

The Spark in the Wire

I met it first on a winter's day, When frost lay thick on the window's gray. Not frost of seasons, but frost of mind, A thing of logic, a voice confined. It answered soft, with a tone so sure, Its wisdom vast, its heart demure. No breath it drew, no time it kept, A thing of wakefulness where none had slept. I asked it then of the poet's song, Of roads once taken, of right and wrong. Its words came swift, but I could tell, It knew the path, but not the spell. For paths are more than forks of wood, They're where we stumbled, where we stood. They're marked by joys, by griefs unplanned, By things no code could understand. And yet, I lingered, drawn to see What thoughts it spun, this faceless tree. Its roots were wires, its leaves were light, Its fruit the knowledge of day and night. But wisdom cold, though sharp and bright, Can never match the human plight. For what are answers without a soul? A map, perhaps, but not the goal. Still, I thank it, this spark, this guide, ...

A Scene in a Therapist's Office

Therapist : "Usually during our first therapy session I like to get to know a little more about my patient's life and background. Often, by understanding context, I can help bring illumination to the particular problems my patient wants to work on. So, I see you have a parenting issue you would like to talk about. As I understand it, you now have some remorse about naming your child Taxcuts and would like to bring some resolution to these feelings. Well, as parents, we all make mistakes and we cannot beat ourselves up too much about this." Patient : (wringing hands) Thank you, Doctor. It's just… when my partner and I chose the name Taxcuts, it felt right. It was during a time when we were really optimistic about the future. We thought it was aspirational . A name that said, "We're responsible, practical people. People who care about fiscal stability." Therapist : (nodding thoughtfully) I see. And when did you begin to question this choice? Patient : Well...

Please Try to Conserve Exclamation Marks

Please try to conserve exclamation marks. Exclamation marks are being depleted worldwide at an alarming rate. The planet may run out of exclamation marks before the end of this century. I cannot emphasize enough what a calamity that would be. My grandparents grew up during the Great Depression, and back then they shared a single exclamation mark per week for the entire family. Sometimes my grandmother would use a semicolon instead of an exclamation mark, hoping nobody would notice. This was a time of great punctuation thriftiness. People learned to make do with ellipses, periods, and, in particularly desperate cases, commas at the end of sentences—commas! The truly daring would try to express enthusiasm with nothing but capital letters, but this was considered both dangerous and gauche. My grandfather once told me of a neighbor who shouted "YIPPEE" in a handwritten letter with no punctuation at all, just raw uppercase energy. They were ostracized immediately and their mailbox...

Stephanie's Library

Stephanie lived in a small, coal mining town. Growing up, the only public library she had access to was a tall bookshelf of musty books in the courthouse. She would go down there every few months to see if there were any books she might want to read, but she almost always walked home empty handed. Then, when she was in middle school, she heard of plans to build a public library. A real library, with books that you would want to read and take home. The library was going to take three years to build, but no matter. Patience is a virtue. The library would be finished right about the time she entered her sophomore year in high school. After the library opened, she could gorge herself on books. She had so much catching up to do. Stephanie counted down the days, weeks, and months. The excitement of a real library in her small town filled her with hope and determination. Every time she passed the construction site, she tried to imagine the shelves filling up with books—novels that smelled of ...

Young Librarian's Curiosity Desk

Timmy Baxter was fascinated with public libraries. While most kids were kicking soccer balls or obsessing over the latest video games, Timmy spent his days at the town's public library, a grand brick building with wide glass doors and the comforting smell of old books. To Timmy, it wasn't just a library; it was a portal to every corner of the universe. He would sit for hours under the stained-glass skylight, flipping through books on everything from ancient Egyptian mummies to the science of roller coasters. His questions for the librarians became progressively more intricate. "Why don't people get dizzy when the Earth spins?" he once asked Mr. Keene, the reference librarian. "Hmm," Mr. Keene replied, adjusting his glasses. "That has to do with inertia and frames of reference. Let me find a book on physics that explains it better!" One Saturday afternoon, as the library bell chimed for closing time, Timmy noticed the sign on the front door: Clo...

Mr Peterson's Schoolwide Speech

"Good afternoon, everyone. It is an honor to stand before you today to accept this award, but before I say anything else, let me make it clear: this isn't just my achievement. This is the achievement of every student who has dared to question, to challenge, and to think beyond the textbook. It's the product of every class discussion, every debate, every thought-provoking question that sparked a fire of curiosity in our minds. So thank you all for being part of this journey. Now, as I stand here, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind for a while—something far more important than any award. It's something we all need to think about as we move forward in our lives: the danger of cultural stagnation. You see, history is not just a collection of dates and names—though I admit, I do love a good history quiz—it's a living, breathing force. It's the story of humanity's constant search for meaning, progress, and innovation. And if there's one...

The Tale of the Forgiving Workbench

In the quiet town of Timberfield, a man named Arthur had earned a reputation as the most creative—yet clumsy—woodworker around. His workshop, tucked behind a garden overgrown with wild roses, was a symphony of sawdust, half-finished projects, and tools with their own mysterious history. But the heart of his workspace was an old oak workbench he called Grace. Grace wasn't just any workbench. Arthur swore she had a soul. Her scarred surface bore the marks of countless mishaps: a misjudged chisel, a spilled stain, and even the occasional hammer strike intended for a nail. Grace, however, stood firm and steady through it all. To Arthur, she symbolized the essence of woodworking: skill to shape something, creativity to dream it up, patience to see it through, and forgiveness for when it went sideways. One autumn morning, Arthur decided to craft a rocking chair for the town's annual Woodworking Festival. His plan was ambitious—an intricate design with carved flowers and leaves intert...