Cindy

Droog

Read Cindy's bio and previous columns

October 15, 2007

Trust Me, Corporate America, You Can Change Fast

My husband and I have spent the past few weeks turning a guest bedroom into a baby boy’s room. No small feat of accomplishment, given that our home’s former owner favored the colors of black, gray and brown to any color that might represent happiness, or for that matter, the light of day.

We are used to this process. After all, we’ve had to seriously brighten up the place one room at a time, just to feel like our home belonged in the land of the living, and wasn’t some sort of medieval dungeon for holding the dredges of society at bay.

We decided to take this one-room-at-a-time approach due to our budget constraints and our collective level of tolerance with construction, which is admittedly lower – or seems to be – than most couples. But once we decide to do a room, we do it with enthusiasm. We do it quickly, and we don’t look back.

Today, our deadline is eminent. The baby is coming in five weeks, and certain things simply must happen by then in order for me to retain a small semblance of sanity. 

The walls must be painted, even though the baby can only see – what – six inches from his own head for the first weeks of life? And of course, the baby is sure to notice and be traumatized by the imperfections on the hardwood floor. (Tip: Buy stock in Goof-Off now, as we’re hitting the hardware store tonight!)

Finally, there’s the closet. As the only “free” closet in our house, it housed everything from wrapping paper to old college textbooks to one Lego model of the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars (don’t ask).

Despite all that needs to be done, it will be finished by the end of this weekend. That’s three weeks’ worth of work, including the cruelest of tasks, which was stripping the glue that lay beneath the 1970s wallpaper.

It all goes to show that when you set your mind to transforming something, you can do it. You can live with any mistakes you might make along the way, like, is the new ceiling light fixture too small? And you can accept that certain things just aren’t going to change. For example, we must keep just enough room in the closet for the Millennium Falcon to live there. It isn’t leaving, and we (yes, we, even I) like it too much to dissemble it.

After going through this three-week process, I have decided to nominate myself to lead the transformation that my company is currently undergoing. I’m giving birth in five weeks, so that definitely imposes a deadline, which is probably the first thing we need.

I’m now used to “cleaning closets” as well. And just like the gift bows that have been reused at least seven times that I finally discarded, there are processes, elements of our structure, and sadly, even a few people that we probably don’t need anymore. Like those bows, they’ve seen one too many Christmases around here.

I also believe that a little creative license should be given to the people who will be here once the transformation has taken place. I live in my house, and if I think the color blue I chose for those walls is a little too dark, I’m not going to freak out over it. I’m going to breathe a few deep breaths, and get over it.

I also intend to keep working where I do, as do hundreds and thousands of others. And if you allow those of us who have any creative inclinations whatsoever, those who aren’t tied to the black and brown wallpaper of the past, to take some risks, what’s really going to happen? A shade of blue that’s slightly too dark? So what? You’re just going to change it again in a few years anyway. Let it happen.

Someone please tell Corporate America that it doesn’t take 55 committees and two years to change. Just a few decision-makers who understand the big picture, will take risks, and who know this: As soon as you make the necessary changes, a new life will be born into your hands. Focus on that, and I’m convinced that in six weeks, you’ll be good to go!

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

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