Employee Recognition Cards

The company I work for likes to recognize its employees for a job well done. This is achieved through the formation of “committees”. We have two committees that I know of. There’s the “Fun Committee” that recognizes fun things and there’s the “Recognition Committee” that recognizes recognizable things.

The Recognition Committee got this idea to put “employee recognition cards” all over the office under the theory that if your peer does something great, you’d fill out one of the cards, put it in one of the Recognition Boxes and then the Recognition Committee would dig it out and post it on the Recognition Wall.

I recently discovered the Recognition Boxes.

I filled them out for everything.

One of my coworkers was moving to Alaska, for which I promptly filled out a recognition card for. “This is to recognize Jim for moving to Alaska.” “This is to recognize Scott for being mostly a jerk instead of a total jerk as per usual.” “This is to recognize Susan for saving the day that one time.” “This is to recognize Jane for boldly using the word ‘breeded’ in a sentence whilst on the phone with a customer who probably knew that ‘breeded’ isn’t a word.”

I lost interest in this exercise after about a week. Then, a month later, one of my coworkers – an emissary if you will - from the Recognition Committee approached me with a handful of Recognition Cards. He was very serious. His breath smelled like truck stop coffee and Marlboro Reds. By his demeanor, I thought he was coming to tell me he hit my car in the parking lot. In a very serious voice he asked me to stop filling out recognition cards. Apparently I wasn’t taking them seriously.

I listened to everything he had to say and, after a brief temper tantrum, told him that I appreciated his coming to me in this matter. It was a good meeting. When he was finished and out of the room I filled out another recognition card recognizing him for talking about recognition card abuse. Lesson learned, sir, lesson learned.

Things I've Learned Today

For some reason I decided that I was going to learn something new every day. It can be one thing, or two things, or if I'm feeling fancy - three things. So, here is what I've learned today. A word of warning: I hope you're all sitting down as you read this as the information that I am going to share may shake the very foundation of your being!

(1) Iran. Everything is going fine in Iran. Every vote has been counted (in advance! Fancy!). Everything is just fine. Democracy is really working great. Also, despite all of the hullabaloo, they have not changed their feelings on Israel (they hate them).

(2) A second warning - this one is a two parter. If you ever call someone on the telephone, and that person has needlessly jazzed up their phone service to one that instead of the standard "ring-ring" that that is common on telephones, the phone plays you a song while "your party is located*".

1. The music that plays will be horrible. It will be, without a doubt, the worst music in the world. It will also tell you a lot about the person you're calling, whether their desperate for marriage, longing for their days at the club, or if they are assholes. NOTE: That last one is a given. If they use this service, they are assholes.
   
2. These people should probably not be in your life in any capacity. And especially don't let them near children or liquor.
   

Suburban tracker, Rage Pee and the Bicycle Store

Yesterday I experienced something that terrified me and made me almost pee my pants out of rage.

I went looking for a bicycle store in Redmond. Not just any bicycle store, but a store specifically called Performance Bike. Performance Bike is great because I can save five dollars if I shop there. Totally worth it. Totally. Worth it. In retrospect, still totally worth it.

So, Redmond is not very big when compared to real cities like Los Angeles or New York or Seattle. Redmond has a mall and also Microsoft. And a lot of millionaires. And about five dozen Starbucks. But other than that, it should be easy enough to find one lousy bike store.

I don't need a map to find Performance Bike, I know just where it is. I don't even need a navigation system, I'll use my suburban tracking skills to find this place. Just like my dad and my dad's dad before him.

It takes me a half hour driving around Redmond to find the bike store, everything is going perfect. But it wasn't. This wasn't the store I was looking for. This was Sammamish Bike. It wasn't the bike store that could save me five dollars. This bike store was worthless to me.

I was lost. Reality was setting in. The reality that I had no idea where Performance Bike was.

Then the terrifying thing happened. In that instant, parked outside of Sammamish Bike, I turned into my father. Like Dr. Jekyll turning into Mr. Hyde. Like Bruce Banner turning into the Incredible Hulk.

I found myself filling with rage and it was all Performance Bikes fault. How DARE they not being where I expected them to be. How DARE they?!?! It was Performance Bike's fault that I was lost. Performance Bike was at fault for all of my insecurities and faults. I was, in that moment, my Dad. I was flipping out irrationally and if a five year old me was in the back seat he'd have been frightened and nervous.

But then I calmed down and found it fifteen minutes later.