June 2007: Makeover

The Office of the Chairman returns to its original space, after a three month redo.

It's been an even longer saga. Before work could begin, there were several months of meetings between Dr. G. Zuss and interior decorators. They brought sample after sample, in a procession much like one of hapless subjects bringing offerings to placate a jaded king. As Dr. G. Zuss is so keen on "our corporate branding," no detail of wall treatment or furniture selection was too small for his scrutiny and thumbs down or up.

Now we're surrounded by the results: dark red walls and blonde furniture. People from around the Department make sure they are seen stopping by to ooh and ahh over how bright and shiny. The luckiest do it when The Decorator-in-Chief is around, so as to note they've paid tribute. Even so, a couple of dissidents have whispered to me, "it kind of clashes, doesn't it?"

Then there's the day the boss compliments Jesus' Best Administrative Assistant on the red dress she's wearing—for coordinating with his decor!

Actually, what she wore clashed badly with the wall. Perhaps he suffers from color-blindness; it would explain his paint choice.

Jesus' BAA—need I say?—was as close to Rapture™ as could be. After all, the boss may not be Jesus, but he is her worldly master, so his praise is next best. Despite that excitement, J's BAA thought fast! "Dr. Schmoe's Assistant and I have been saying: we need a clothing budget, so we can be appropriate for the improvements!"

Quick thinking pays off, and the great man laughs.

Having made a funny, Jesus' BAA repeats it to any and all admin assistant types who enter the room. After quoting herself, she pauses to say, "I'm joking." And just to prove it: she pauses again, to rev up to just-a-notch-below-hysteria level of laughter. And once she gets that started, she takes it for a lengthy spin...

I have to hear this process repeated the rest of the goddamn day. And no doubt, for however long I will work in this room...

A big feature of the remodel is that Cruella has maneuvered an early move to an office of her own, where she begins "my new role"—no longer supervising lowlife secretaries, but instead serving as HR officer for faculty.

She summonsed me to her new space, to say, "You will be returning—temporarily" to the throne room. Then I will be moved somewhere else, or perhaps be sacked, she doesn't know which. In any case, someone else (she doesn't know who) needs to take over my current job.

Cruella presents final decisions as to be made by a new Department Administrator; another part of the redo is that Ghengis will "retire" (meaning only that he won't be here full-time).

Plans to kick me out the door are of course Cruella's doing. She detects an insufficient degree of servility and fawning, and before she left the immediate premises, she wanted to curry favor with Dr.G. Zuss by lining things up to replace me with someone better at servility and fawning. As always, she came up with a lame cover story no one can seriously be expected to believe.

But not having to inhabit the same space as Cruella is already a big improvement. Now, if we pass in the hall she doesn't acknowledge my existence. Nice that there seems to be no further interaction ever required.

Ghengis, however, is still very much with us. The day of the move, he called together the remaining servant class—Jesus' Best Administrative Assistant and me. First thing he has to say: "We'll have to be very careful about what we place on furniture surfaces."

Meaning: the master's surroundings are not to be sullied by our return to that space, so we'd better get ourselves there without any visible signs of a move (e.g., cartons). By teleportation, then? Technology would not seem to be keeping up with what would best please Dr. G. Zuss.

Ghengis also means that, although we're expected to order and receive purchases for the whole Department, packages must be invisible until someone bothers picking them up. This is a new extreme of the usual expectation that the womenfolk work non-stop at doing the bidding of all, while also letting no piece of paper mar the pristine orderliness of their desks.

Next, Ghengis informs us to prepare for an immanent Big Announcement on permissible décor for staff. It seems soon Our Leader will promulgate a new policy: that personal photos and decorations are not to be displayed.

Cynical as I am, even I find this surprising. I've lived with micromanaging of the executive suite for nearly three years, as is only to be expected in such a pompous hierarchy. But suddenly, they intend telling several hundred people to spend their lives at the office, without being allowed so much as a picture of the kids on their desks! Isn't that a big thing keeping the workforce under control—that they display the family photos to keep reminding themselves of why they have to be there? And they post official Office Humor, of the "Dilbert" ilk. Those are small enough safety valves, and meant so employees don't do anything rash, like try to unionize, or show up with an AK-47...

Personally, I would never dream of displaying pictures or anything the least bit personal—not the way I spend 40 hours a week trying to divorce myself emotionally from this environment. Still, it's rather astounding that even a control freak on the level of Dr. G. Zuss would go against something so sacred.

Not to mention—if you dare gaze upon his office, what's the first thing you will see? A display of his family photos!

Well, word starts to get around, and it seems the mutterings are bad enough to cause Dr. G. Zuss to back off. So far, no staff have been separated from the grand-kids' photos and desktop teddy bears.

While The Leader of our Department appears to give up one of his schemes for combined interior design and behavior modification, the Homeland's Leader faces no interference in his Extreme Makeover project.

About the ongoing remake of our most basic principles, Hilzoy notes that this month—

...six human rights groups released a report (pdf) on 39 people who they think the US government might be holding in undisclosed locations, and whose location is presently unknown. (Thus, they are not counting anyone known to be at Guantanamo or Bagram; just people who are missing.) That we have disappeared anyone is shocking, and a violation of treaties we have signed and ratified.

This report has gotten a fair amount of play, but in all the coverage I've read, only the Philadelphia Inquirer has mentioned what is, to me, the most awful allegation: that we disappeared young children...

In a noble effort by some American kids, Presidential Scholars Tell the President 'No' on Torture, presenting him with a letter to say—

"As members of the Presidential Scholars class of 2007, we have been told that we represent the best and brightest of our nation. Therefore, we believe we have a responsibility to voice our convictions. We do not want America to represent torture. We urge you to do all in your power to stop violations of the human rights of detainees, to cease illegal renditions and to apply the Geneva Convention to all detainees, including those designated enemy combatants."

In response, whitehouse.org reports: President Graciously Responds to Retarded Anti-Torture Ramblings of Insolent Teenaged Nerds.