Cindy

Droog

Read Cindy's bio and previous columns

October 1, 2007

Childhood Games. Corporate Games. They’re All the Same.

When I was little, one of my favorite games was hot potato. We played it at school, using an eraser in place of the potato. I played it with my parents at home, using the kitchen oven buzzer as our timer. I joyfully taught it to my younger brother (as soon as he was old enough to throw without doing that thing toddlers do where they get as close as possible to you before aiming).

Within the year, I’m sure I’ll teach it to my son, too. But until then, I’m sharpening my skills and getting my hot potato fix just from reading my e-mails at work.

The first one came through early last week. “Who authorized this?” Followed shortly by the string of, “Not me’s.” Within 12 hours, these were followed by some actual “Oh no, the buzzer is going to go off any minute!” tossing to actual departments. “Maybe it was the folks down in global marketing. They do stuff like this all the time.”

I just sat in my cubicle, reading, and hoping that the potato would explode in mid-air, and that someone I enjoy working with wouldn’t be the last person who tossed it. So, here’s a little office politics tip. Check your e-mail frequently. Usually, the first responder isn’t also the last.

Most working adults haven’t lost their touch at Duck-Duck-Goose either. In essence, you travel in a circle, looking at all of your potential victims. Choose one you think is slightly slower than you, and bam! The chase for a seat at the table ensues.

I’m pretty sure I was the goose more often than any of my classmates in elementary school. I’m only 4’10”, which means my legs might be two-feet long at best. While I might be fast for my height, I was no match for an average-sized third grader who didn’t want to be a goose two times in a row.

It makes me wonder. When you’re picked to work on a project, is it a mental game of Duck-Duck Goose? Do the project leaders look at the roster of potential teammates, and choose one who will make the project fun, but definitely won’t run circles around them, thus making them look slow or less than brilliant? Or, do they truly pick the person they want to play with, like how the boys in class would pick the girls they like to chase them?

There is one game that I learned to stop playing early in my career: Monopoly. Competing for property, often to the detriment of others, can come back to bite you. I learned this while working at an advertising agency that had just lost its largest client. In the shuffle, quite a few people lost their jobs. Soon after they were gone, a young woman who wasn’t let go decided to grab the nicer office of one of our former colleagues.

Controversy ensued. Feelings were hurt. Enemies made. A few years later, when I got married, I even had to seat my guests, some of whom were from that agency, according to their alliances. Looking back, it would have been much nicer to the other “players” if she’d stuck with three houses instead of upgrading to the office version of the Monopoly hotel.

And thus, the lessons learned from childhood games continues. I’d tackle the corporate equivalent of Chutes and Ladders next, but some of my coworkers read this column. And I don’t want to find myself spiraling down the slide. I’ll leave that kind of fun to my kids. 

© 2007 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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