My company’s HR department did a presentation for the Accounting staff about this a few years ago. They gave out little plastic fishes, made us watch a video, quizzed us on the video, then suggested that we play little games to keep our spirits up.
One of the ditzy girls in the office came up with a game where you put a yellow sticky note on someone’s back. When they discover they have it, they’re supposed to put it on someone else’s back.
When it ended up on me I put it through the shredder.
I had a coworker who was reading “Who Moved My Cheese”. I kept moving it every time he set it down.
When I started here I we were learning Five S. Now it’s Six Sigma. I’m waiting for Seven Up next.
I am so, so, so, so, so glad I work for myself. So. Glad. You have no idea, really. shudders
I hope you removed it first.
Nope. They sent me home to get another shirt. 
I worked at a place like that. “Fun” games and contests, “lavish” prizes sometimes costing the company up to $.35 each! Nohing really took my mind off the fact that I hated myself more every day I worked there. Waking up every morning wondering if they will fire me if I call in sick one more time. But I guess it worked for a bunch of people, because there were scary zombie drones who seemed to really enjoy everything, but if you looked deep into their eyes you could see they were dead inside. They were all dead inside.
Now I really like my job and am happy to show up every day. What changed? I got a new job! For less money–but who can put a price on happiness?
And that’s my chuckle for the day.
I truly believe the reason bosses make us do shit like this is so that later on they can laugh at us. I just KNOW those fuckers at Walmart had a big guffaw about the Walmart Cheer every day–how could you not? Some of the more crafty bossmen have probably installed cameras in the workstations so they can beat off to the dehumanization whilst taking a bath in Perrier.
I wonder about the inner mind workings of the one or two people who really do enjoy games, prizes, and fake workplace comraderie. It would be so easy to just chalk it up to borderline mental retardation but I think it’s more than that. I think these people are so desperate for any kind of a thrill that they’ve calibrated their FunMeter down so low that anything that’s even remotely funny will make them smile, and anything that’s even mildly interesting will cause them to squeal with delight. If they don’t put up this defensive wall they’ll realize just how petty and small their lives are, a realization that normal people have been aware of their entire lives. Sad, really, but what’s even worse is that they force us to participate in the charade, lest their carefully constructed false reality where work is an enjoyable place and it’s acceptable to stick a note on someone’s back collapse in on itself. And that is where I draw the line.
Evil Captor -
You’re not wearing enough flair. Just thought I’d let you know.
I had to watch this video as training for my banking job. The thing was, I would’ve preferred my job if I could’ve thrown fish at customers.
Getting a cup full of cheap candy once a year, along with 50 cents to get a soda during work while working for crap wages wasn’t motivation enough. Plus, they made me dress up as a man and do a stupid dance at one of the quarterly meetings. So I quit.
Um. That was me, NOT my husband. He’s never worked in the banking industry, though I’m sure he’d do it if he got to throw fish at people.
I was kind of wondering why dressing up as a man would be traumatic for UN…
My dad worked his last 10 years or so at Wal-Mart in the sporting goods and electronics departments, and I worked with him for a brief (very brief) period of time. He’s a real pisser, for one- he drove management batshit by acting completely enthusiastic no matter what kind of shit they would heap on his plate. My favorite was watching him at the morning “meetings”. That’s where they would berate the bad departments, and whoever they were pissed at the most would have to be a “letter” in the Wal-Mart cheer. There is also a ~ in Wal~Mart, called the “squiggley”, usually reserved for the lowest on the totem pole because when it was YOUR turn to yell, you had to do a little hip wiggle and say “Gimmie a squiggly!”. No fucking lie.
So anyway, the first time I went to one of these meetings, they got done berating and started picking people to come in front of everyone and lead the cheer. Of course everyone is looking at the floor, looking around- anywhere but making eye contact with the store manager- except Dad. He’s right up front, hand in the air like Horshack “Oh! Oh! Me! Me! Me! Can I be the squiggly today? Can I today???” I very nearly pissed myself the first time I saw it. Naturally, they didn’t pick him (they never, ever picked him, since they assumed it would make him happy and they didn’t want that), but when it came time for the cheer, I clearly heard him yell “Gimme a W! Gimma an A! Gimmie an L! Gimmie a squiggly! Gimmie an M! Gimmie an A! Gimmie an R! Gimme a T! WHAT’S THAT SMELL?? WAL-MART! LOUDER! WAL-MART!” Indeed, what’s that smell? The smell of fucking victory over those oppresive petty tyrants. He did little shit like that all 10 years to drive them nuts, and it did drive them nuts. Good for him.
He’s retired now, by the way, and only goes in there to show off his photos from fishing trips. Fuck that souless corporation- I’m glad he was able to have fun at their expense and didn’t get sucked into it all.
That’s awesome.
When they did the cheer at “my” Walmart I made it a point to put my hands over my ears and continue reading the book I had brought in with me. I also shot dirty looks at all the participants (none of whom were being sardonic, at least, it didn’t seem like it). As much as I hate bossmen, I hated the slap-happy employees even more. Guys, we’re supposed to be tearing shit like this down, not feeding it! Don’t cheer, organize.
It was not so much the dressing up as a man part except for the runny black eyeliner supposed to be imitating a moustache. It was like a Jackson Pollock mustache, maybe.
Mostly it was the stupid dance.
Excuse me, but just how slow was this cow-orker? The entire book could have been written on a matchbook cover with room to spare. The introduction(s) telling you what a marvelous fucking miracle this book was, were longer than the actual book. And the book was 3 or 4 times longer than it needed to be, because it kept repeating itself, over and over and over.
I was asked to read this at a time when my company was being “merged” (= sold down the river) with a Swedish company. I remarked to my manager that the problem wasn’t that they’d moved our cheese, they’d pissed all over it and noone wanted it any more. He got a good chuckle out of it and quit the company about a month later.
My comment on the FISH! program was that maybe people didn’t enjoy their jobs because their jobs sucked or their managers were incompetent idiots who made everyone’s job 3 times harder than necessary and then took all the credit for success.
About a year ago, our company rolled out the Great Game of Business. This involved a long presentation which included a lengthy excerpt from a 60 Minutes episode about the company which started the concept. Truthfully, it was a good documentary and the concept of the GGOB worked very well for their specific situation. At the end of the video, the presenter asked us why we thought a national news program like 60 Minutes would devote all this airtime to a success story at a small manufacturing organization. Without even thinking, I blurted out “Slow news day?”. Huge chuckle from the crowd, dirty looks from the boss and presenter for the rest of the presentation. I do what I can.
You do want to express yourself, don’t you?
Now that’s just wrong.
It reminds me of the “dance for your paycheck” strip (Dilbert).
I’ve had to suffer through most of that motivational crapola as well. Which is doubly confusing since I work, not for a corporation, but a hospital. A federally-run hospital. A large portion of all that hooha just doesn’t make any sense when applied to the clinical setting. I remember one program based on some ice cream parlor business-their tagline was “I’ll Be Back!”, as in the customer saying they’d continue to buy there. But really, if a patient has to come back to the hospital then the clinicians are not doing too swift a job, are they? Oh, excuse me, I meant clients, can’t call them patients anymore. Anyway, when the rainbow-colored fish started sprouting in the lab I managed to keep my head down and miss the entire FISH! experience. Doesn’t sound like I really missed anything.
[sup]I loved my work when I started here. Over the years I’ve gradually come to dislike the work environment, then those responsible for the work environment. Now I think I’m starting to dislike the actual work. And that make me want to cry.[/sup]
Then you should definitely start throwing fish at your co-workers.
** I AM THE PUPPETMASTER!!! Watch them dance, Bwaahahahaaaa!!**
One of the leadership courses I was at had a section on how to manage bosses (see it wasn’t ALL bad). Sometimes bosses call meetings just because they can, not for any good business reason. They have to justify their petty existence in their minds, too.
I started my own motivational program. It involved the use of the picture at the bottom of this page:
Michigan J. Frog
I titled it “The Dancing Frog”. You may know it as a dog and pony show. It usually happens when bigwigs come in from head office and make their presentation to the vassals in the field (me included). Please note the large mouth and small brain pan. Also, note the happy smile that just screams, “I am here to help you!” Usually you end up doing a pile of work on top of what is in your job description.
As PinkMarabou stated, all they have to do is treat you like a person who has a family and a life outside of work and leave it at that.