Squawk?

OMG this is precious. I was in the stockroom this afternoon, unpacking next week's new releases and organizing them on carts. This is a soothing, relatively mindless task of the sort I really actually like doing. I mean, sure, that leaves the Previous GM on the bookselling frontlines while I'm comfortably tucked away in back, but hey, I'm not in charge! If somebody thinks that's a wise idea, great.

Anyway, it's fun to see the new books as they appear, even if they're almost uniformly terrible. This is why all you poor IPT folks keep doing your horrible, dusty jobs--you really do get a kick out of taking stuff out of boxes and seeing it before anybody else. Anybody who's worked in any store, or been a little kid at Christmas, knows about this. But sometimes...boy, sometimes you get a gem:



Huh. That's...well, that's a bird on a desk. Wearing a tie. In any sane world, this would be completely baffling, or terrifyingly surreal--something out of a booze-and-codeine fueled nightmare. And that title--a primitive, pre-linguistic screech, a howl from the collective unconscious, a Barbaric Yawp! But, really, this world ain't particularly sane, and really it was perfectly obvious what sort of book I was dealing with. Small hardcover, maybe six by eight? White? About 150 pages, maybe less? About five words on a page, maybe less? Weird, strained animal symbolism? Yeah! It's one of those staggeringly cynical and putrid little Inspirational Business Fables! Who Moved My Cheese? F.I.S.H. Our Iceberg Is Melting. And so on. Books for people who don't Have Time to read books, because they're important, but who find this sort of drivel inexplicably cute. This particular book seems a couple of years behind the curve, but that doesn't mean it won't be a hit.

But check this out. I had to read the jacket copy, of course, and look at the lessons I learned:

Unfortunately, we've all seen it happen. When faced with a problem, rather than working cooperatively to come up with a solution, your manager or colleagues come swooping in, squawking loudly, dump orders riddled with formulaic advice, and then take off, leaving you and everyone else to clean up the mess. Or—let's be honest: there may have been a time (or three) when you have been guilty of doing that very thing yourself.

While this happens in every workplace worldwide more frequently than ever, it doesn't have to. Through the story of Charlie, a seagull who doesn't understand how his management actions are holding back his flock, Travis Bradberry, Ph.D., reveals the three virtues of great leadership that he has used to help thousands of people and organizations deal with seagull managers in the workplace and, just as important, to avoid being one themselves.

Charlie the seagull is a well-intentioned manager who, when faced with new challenges after previously leading his flock to success, fails to understand how his management style is holding back, rather than helping, his team. Through our bird's-eye view of Charlie, overconfident Scott, quiet Maya, practical Yufan, and skinny, shy Alfred, we see them and the rest of the flock struggle to solve their problems while absorbing the three virtues of great leadership and teamwork along the way. This entertaining and illuminating fable will help make us all more productive, less prone to depositing messes on the heads of those around us, and more able to work effectively with those who continue to squawk at us every day.

See? It's all clear now! Our problem is that we are dealing not with a human being, but with some sort of Metaphorical Sea Bird. Or something. He just Fails to Understand how his Style is holding back his Team. (That's us.)

Notice how Charlie the Seagull is "well-intentioned," though? Of course! Why wouldn't he be? Everybody thinks they're well-intentioned, and this book is clearly aimed at the Charlies of the world. They want to think they're the Real Good Guys.

But how'd you end up in that position, Charlie, squawking your stupid meaningless orders at people? Were all your intentions "good?"

Maybe. But if you press me, I'll tell you that I think telling anybody else what to do at any time is suspect, and enjoying it is, for lack of a better word, evil. What you're calling "management" is an act of violence, and it's inherently polluting, like any other form of violence. I'm not naive, and I'm not some kinda anarchist. I understand that we need people who are willing to do that, or nothing will ever get accomplished, just like we need good cops who are willing to hurt people if they have to in order to get their difficult job done. But the sorts of people who are eager to do any of those things aren't my people. That's all.