And then we have Wells Fargo and their fantasy of going far — dragging dead weight all the way. In one of my all-time-favorite monuments to mediocrity, we have what I call:

The “Patrick’s Patrick” Policy

(named for the resident clown in my 2012 contract)

Is there some kind of government mandate on employing these people (perhaps as an experiment to see just how much we can take)? But what’s worse than hiring them is never firing them. 

There’s not even a hint of “shape up or ship out” anymore.

Another glorious gift from my treasure chest of silver linings is the mountain of material I’ve gleaned for the book I’ve been writing on and off for many years. One of my favorite things about sharing my stories is the gold I get in return. I was telling a friend about the Skeletoes this guy would wear, and while they have their place, taken in totality of the garb of this guy — I found him buffoonish at best.

So I’m talkin’ chapter titles with my friend, and as much as I love my “policy” bit above, I just about died when I heard this:

The Skeletoes Situation

You’d never guess that a guy so incurious in the face of inquiry would be a member of Mensa — “the largest and oldest high IQ society in the world.” It’s all the more absurd when you consider that curiosity is at the core of Mensa’s mandate (smack-dab at the center of their virtues).

That someone could so easily abandon the aptitude it took to qualify for that club exemplifies the power of pride. It soon became obvious how he flagrantly gets away with his asinine antics. A guy like that becomes a company mascot, as everybody eventually buys into the belief that “he can’t help it — Patrick’s Patrick.” Such collective enabling reinforces his childlike view that anything goes because “I’m jolly ol’ Patrick.”

Purely for the purpose of providing an image, I should admit that I silently dubbed him “Santa Crass” from the start. His obnoxious behavior was off the charts even on day one. Our little group went to lunch and this loud-mouth felt free to push his politics replete with profanity.

It’s important to note that I’m personally not offended by either, and I happen to agree with some of his concerns  — but I don’t care, there’s a time and place, and that ain’t it!

I could see the embarrassment on the faces of my manager and colleague (who was just as sweet as can be and I loved working with her). Let’s call her RightOn. The idea that any manager would be aware of such behavior and do nothing to stop it is grossly irresponsible.

When I approached him about my concerns, he said:

I was impressed with you in the interview — but now I’m tremendously impressed. I’m amazed that you figured all this out in 3 days.

The fact that the manager didn’t like this guy any more than I did was extremely telling . We agreed to give it some time but he made it clear that “Patrick’s not going anywhere.”

What I really wanted to say was:

Fine — then do your job so this bozo doesn’t reflect so poorly on you, your team, and the company.

We gave it a go but the writing was on the wall. When I proposed a new approach, I sent out an email detailing my idea. The next morning, Patrick unsurprisingly pooh-poohed it, but RightOn dropped by my desk and asked if we could do a whiteboard meeting to discuss what I had in mind.

We made some strides but she helped me see that I needed sharpen up the presentation.

I stayed late that night working up a one-page PowerPoint to illustrate the concept, and it was right on the money this time — and I thank her for that. RightOn represents that rare curious-minded colleague who reminds you of how it’s supposed to be. And contrary to convenient opinion, it’s not about my idea — it’s about how ideas should be entertained (as I’ve spent a lifetime doing for others).

In one of the most pivotal moments of my career, the mere inflection of the word “interesting” caught my attention in my colleague’s critique. I was a little hazy about his input at the time, so a few days later I stopped by his desk and said, “Could you go through that again?”

And now my eyes were open all the way . . .

His approach was far superior to mine, so I scrapped my code and started over that weekend — retooling it until it was all done by 5:00 AM Monday morning.

And by the way, it wasn’t due that day — I just cranked it out it because I was having fun.

I had been enlightened, and what a wonderful feeling to have your idea surpassed by something better. My colleague made me sharper, and I had something new to build on — and that’s a beautiful thing, don’t ya think?

When I sent out an email expressing my enthusiasm and acknowledging the wise one who showed me the way, they all applauded me with “team play” platitudes. For the record, I really liked that group and the manager as well, but I see the lay of the land regardless of likability.

You wanna guess how many of ’em tried it out (an approach that applied to every single project in that shop):

That’s right  — ZERO!

After a little spat that hurt Patrick’s precious feelings a few weeks later — he cried foul and that afternoon I was kicked to the curb. This is what my manager said when he called the contract agency:

Rick’s a rock star and I really like him — but I gotta let him go

I’m not a “rock star” in IT or anything else — but the point of the quote is that it shows just how ludicrous it all is: That you keep the person you don’t want and fire the person you do!

That I was terminated is a technicality — because the truth is that the manager and I had an understanding after that earlier meeting. In his mind, he was doing me a favor (and he was probably right). I don’t have any ill feelings toward him, because he’s not some machine in the way he saw things. I didn’t agree with his decision, but I understood it.

RightOn’s kind message below still hits me in the gut:

But it’s not like I wanted to leave, I just wanted Patrick to not be such a poster boy for pampering. I’ve always been a problem solver at heart, so I believe that anything in the way of progress should be dealt with to whatever degree is reasonable.

I don’t think it’s too much to ask that a manager exercise his inherent responsibility.

The Law of Unintended Consequences is at the core of our country’s ills. I happily belong to the minute minority that feels we’re not informed enough to know the answers to every controversial issue in America. We don’t have a monopoly on virtue — and don’t want one. We’re not only willing to change our minds — we welcome it.

But fundamentally speaking, in trying to create a more sensitive culture, America went way overboard — creating a hypersensitive country is the process. You had good intentions, but you lost your way.