Rant Redux

Another pressing deadline at work is keeping me busy most nights and weekends. Add to that the loose ends that remain loose after the move (“which box is my underwear in?”) and the usual exigencies of family life, and you have a recipe for blog neglect.

As an upstanding citizen of the blogosphere, however, I have a duty to see to it that this site not become a cobwebpage—a derelict site of outdated, stale material—so I have decided to add a fresh posting consisting of a piece I wrote several years ago that appeared in the guest op-ed spot in the Vancouver Sun. That’s right—I am keeping the site fresh by using outdated, stale material. Clever, no?

I came across this piece while going though some papers recently (see “loose ends”, above) and at first I was retroactively embarrassed by its strident, earnest tone. But I still believe in what I wrote, dammit, and I stand by these words, their naïve zealousness notwithstanding.

Anyway, it was about mission statements and it goes something like this:

MISSION STATEMENTS DON’T CUT THE MUSTARD
I guess it had to happen. The deli where I go for sandwiches has a mission statement. Posted in billboard proportions behind the counter, where the menu should be, is its corporate manifesto, replete with such feel-good sentiments as “we recognize and respect the rights of others” and “we acknowledge the diversity in our community.” The poor harried employee behind the counter was so busy respecting rights and acknowledging diversity that he forgot the mustard.

Nowadays, you can’t swing a PR flack without hitting a mission statement. Open a brochure, pick up a newsletter, enter an office, and there it is: a screed of self-congratulatory piffle—empty plastic words masquerading as noble declarations.

I may be wrong, but I don’t think Columbus had a mission statement. He had a mission, to be sure, but I doubt he posted a statement in the galley of the Santa Maria to the effect that “we are committed to exploring uncharted territory,” or “we recognize the right of all crewmen to rape, plunder and pillage.”

Jonas Salk did not publish a statement declaring that his research team “respects and values the contributions of its members.” This not to say that he did not cherish such beliefs, only that he was too busy eradicating a disease to embroider the words on a doily and have them framed.

But we live in a time when humility and quiet accomplishment are seen as weaknesses, when enterprising executroids buy off-the-rack personalities from Tony Robbins or other such snake-oil salesman, when what you say is more important than what you do.

And considering the expense and effort that often goes into preparing a mission statement, the lack of originality is appalling. The same sanctimonious bafflegab appears across the corporate spectrum—lifeless, stultifying balloon juice that barely registers on the consciousness. So many companies today are eager to face new challenges that you’d be inclined to think that we live in a nation of corporate daredevils. The truth is, of course, that challenges are usually problems, and nobody likes problems—least of all profit-conscious businesses.

At worst, when foisting spurious propaganda, mission statements are misleading. At best, they are superfluous. One local retail outlet, in a “statement of core values” issued to its employees, imparts the stunning revelation, “We recognize that profitability is essential to our success.” Well, duh. Might as well include the part about opening the doors. As for the “respect-the-rights-of-others” type of statements, these are nothing more than institutionalized edicts to “play nice”—something we all should have learned in Robert Fulghum’s kindergarten.

There is nothing inherently wrong, of course, with an organization striving to be virtuous and productive, or wanting to define its goals for the benefit of its members and the public.The practice of entrenching these ideals in a mission statement becomes insidious, however, when the words supersede the action, as if just saying it were enough to make it so.

Besides, as much as I enjoy being respected, recognized, and acknowledged, sometimes I just want the mustard.

Reprinted without permission from the Vancouver Sun

Self Image

A reader request has poured in, suggesting that, since I now have the ability to add images to these feeble postings, I might want to grace this page with a photo of myself. Oh, all right...


The author, in happier times

Now With Photographic Evidence!

Abby writing her blog (this has been a test of the newfangled Blogger photo feature)

Reflections On A Web Sight

So I’m sitting out here on my new patio in my new home at sunset, flush with pride of ownership, and flush with my fourth glass of wine, and flustered with the work I’m trying to do on the laptop, when I look down and see that a tiny green spider, about this big * has built an intricate, delicate web from the table edge to an adjacent chair.

Now, I’m not especially fond of spiders, or nature in general for that matter, but this sort of instinctual talent always fascinates me. Fascinates and annoys me. I mean, here is this spider—who, I remind you, is a mere speck of protoplasm no bigger than this *— that somehow has the innate engineering wherewithal to construct a complex architecture of fine filaments, in perfectly balanced, perfectly symmetrical proportion, while I, an advanced primate with a mortgage and a laptop, was utterly bumfuzzled while trying to assemble an Ikea TV stand the other night.

This would be a sobering thought if I weren’t so drunk.