************************* ALICE in DIGITALand ************************* "Where am I? asked Alice, as she peered at the large seven-lettered sign with the standard blue letters. "You're in DIGITALand," replied the security guard, "May I see your badge?" "I don't have a badge." "Did you lose it?" "No," answered Alice in a puzzled tone. "How could I lose something I never had?" "If it isn't lost, then you must show it to me." "I can't! I don't have one." "Then you'll have to have a temporary." "A temporary WHAT?" asked Alice, more confused than ever. "Why, a temporary badge. What's your badge number?" requested the guard. "I don't HAVE one." "Of course not, Ken Olsen has ONE. Give me your badge number and your cost center." "I'm so confused," sighed Alice. "I can't do this. I've already said three times why. Do I have to tell you four?" "Ahhh. 3XY, badge number 4. You must be very important to have such a low badge number. I should have immediately known how low, by your state of extreme confusion. Here's your temporary. Go right on in." Alice pasted the sticky paper to her dress and headed down the hall. Not ten feet ahead, she saw a rather distressed looking rabbit coming toward her. He was dressed in a pair of torn, faded jeans and a dirty tee shirt. "What's wrong?" asked Alice. "I'm late! I'm LATE!" exclaimed the rabbit as he peered at the pert chart dangling from his pocket protector. "Late for what?" asked Alice. "For a very important date! I'm going to miss my date! I've got a deadline to meet and I'm not going to make it!" "Well, if it's already dead, it probably won't mind," offered Alice reassuringly. "In fact, it isn't likely to be going too far in such a state. I'm sure however long you take will be just fine." "You obviously don't understand," said the rabbit. "Everything takes longer than it really does. It doesn't matter what you're doing, only that you meet your date, and that's always impossible." "Well, if it's impossible, why would anyone expect you to meet it?" almost at once regretting that she had asked. Was this going to be as confusing as badges? "It's really very simple. In order to move forward, you need a goal, any goal. It just has to be impossible to do! To motivate the troops, you have to make a goal real challenging. It's only there to get a stake in the ground, you know. After that, we march in step until we reach our objective. The date really doesn't mean anything. You simply have to understand that we are doing the right thing." "But if the goal is impossible and really doesn't mean anything, why are you trying to go there? Wouldn't it be simpler to first figure out what you are really going to do and then figure out how to get there?" "You obviously don't understand the process. And, as I said before, I'm late. So, there is obviously only one thing to do." "Hurry up and rush off?" Alice asked, hoping it would sound more like a suggestion than a question. "No! No. No. A meeting! Let's find the Mad Manager and a number of involved, interested, or warm bodies." "That will obviously take a lot of time. I don't think you have any to waste." "No it won't. All we have to do is find a conference room. There are lots of them right over here." "But," started Alice, "those rooms are all full of people. Don't we need an empty conference room?" "Silly thought!" said the rabbit. "If we want to find the Mad Manager and some meeting attendees, why would we look in an empty conference room? Anyway, it's impossible to EVER find an EMPTY conference room." He took Alice by the hand and promptly lead her into the largest, fullest conference room. Alice immediately noticed that the wastebasket was quite full of foam cups and overhead projector bulbs. These people had been here for a long time. At the head of the table sat a man in a suit wearing a large, rather funny top hat. "Why is that man wearing that funny hat?" whispered Alice to the rabbit, "Who is he?" "I'm the Mad Manager," retorted the man at the end of the table, obviously overhearing, "and I'd be happy to tell you WHY I'm wearing this hat, but that topic is NOT on the agenda." "Why don't we change the agenda?" asked a person in the corner. "Is this a topic for another meeting?" asked the Mad Manager, reflectively. "Is WHAT a topic for another meeting?" voice a third. "The reason for the hat, or why we don't change the agenda?" "Why don't we take this off line?" queried another. "Does everyone agree that these are all topics we should address?" asked the Mad Manager, leaning back in his chair. "Possibly so!" interjected the person in the corner. "Could it be that we have a hidden agenda?" "Oh, no!" the Mad Manager began, with obvious dismay on his face, "Someone has hidden the agenda again! Let me put on my Process Hat, and we'll see if we can WORK this issue." With that, he removed his rather amusing top hat and placed a big green fedora on his head. "Now, with my Process Hat on, I'd like to address the issue of the hidden agenda. Since we can't have a productive meeting without an agenda, it is up to all of us to find it." Just as everyone started to shuffle papers and look under chairs, a voice from the corner piped up saying, "But," followed by a long pause, "who is going to DRIVE this issue?" "Do we have an action item here?" asked another attendee. "Does anyone here want to WORK this?" asked the Mad Manager. "Who originally brought this up?" asked another, as the table began to buzz with conjecture. "I believe the woman who came in with the rabbit proposed this," offered another, "Shouldn't SHE own it?" "Well," the Mad Manager stated emphatically, pointing to Alice, "I'd say this is YOUR issue. Report out to this committee within 6 weeks. Now get out of my sight and get to work. Three rooms down the hall is where you should be." Alice entered the room. Seated around a large oval table were what appeared to e a pack of oversized playing cards with heads and arms and legs. Each card was dressed in a gray or navy blue three piece suit. And around their necks were rather oddly shaped ties made of coiled silk or polyester rope. The thought crossed Alice's mind that they looked more like nooses than neck ties. "OFF with her head!" screamed the Queen of Hearts, sitting at the head of the table. While recoiling from the howl, Alice noticed that the Queen's tie was definately silk, not polyester, and each card seated near the Queen was dressed in a suit and tie combination almost identical to the Queen's (close enough to be politically correct, but not tacky). "Why would you possibly want to remove my head?" asked Alice. By now she felt beyond confused. "It's not a modern, iconic, user friendly, menu driven, color, PC-compatible user interface," droned the Queen, in a tone that would have needed to come up two notches to be even vaguely considered condescending. "It happens to suit ME just fine," retorted Alice. "What ARE you, an engineer or something?" asked the Seven of Spades. "No, I'm Alice. Who are you?" "Marketing!" they replied, in perfect fifty-two part harmony. "And what is THAT?" asked Alice, naively. There was an uncomfortable interlude of silence as the cards fidgeted with their noose-ties, checked their watches, and scribbled notes on pads of paper enclosed in handsone genuine imitation leather folders embossed with the company logo. Then, one by one, like dominos, each card turned to the one next to it for an answer, until they were all staring at the Queen of Hearts. The Queen cleared her throat, adjusted, her noose-tie a second time, and stared directly at Alice. "Marketing," she poised herself with chin held high, "provides the strategic thinking necessary to GROW the business." "Oh," said Alice, "You figure out what products to build?" "Heavens, no!" exclaimed the Queen. "That's too tactical. We feel it's our job to develop vision for the long term." "You develop things," began Alice. "So, you BUILD the products?" In unison, each member of the playing deck made a face reminiscent of the look a small child gets upon tasting dead roaches for the first time. "Ugggggh! That's even MORE tactical!" jeered the chorus. "No, no, NO!" shouted the Queen of Hearts. "You still don't understand. We take the pulse of key market leaders' demand curve." "Ah, I SEE now," said Alice. "You SELL the products." By now, the chorus of cards chanting "Tac-ti-cal, tac-ti-cal!" was becoming too much. The Queen was furious and emphatically repeated her original greeting. "OFF with her head. Off with her HEAD!" "WAIT!" demanded Alice. "I believe I really understand now. You are ALL responsible for driving the solution opportunities for the key client supply perceptions through strategic vision management!" Alice wondered if she should add something about claws catching and frumious bandersnatches, but thought she'd best leave it at that before she became nauseous. "Yes, YES!" screamed the cards in unison, "That's EXACTLY right!" "And how, might I ask, do you accomplish this lofty and important goal?" asked Alice as she eyed the nearest exit. "Why, by calling a BOD, of course," responded the Queen. "And what, pray tell might that be?" inquired Alice, hoping this jabber would keep her head attached long enough to get out. Mentally, she plotted the best escape route. "A Board of Directors," began the Queen, while Alice was focusing on the door to the left of the table. "It's a type of high level meeting." "A meeting?" exclaimed Alice. "Oh, no! Not another MEETING!" With that, she bolted for the door, no longer fearing for her head. Her only hope was to make it through the deck of cards before the agenda slide hit the overhead projector. In a dead run, she passed through the door just as the room dimmed and the projector lamp flicked on. The whir of the fan in the overhead was the last sound to fade as the door closed behind her. The cards didn't chase her, they were all eyes glued attentively to the agenda slide.