Idea thief is workplace's worst villain

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A character (in the workplace) worth bashing to a pulp is the idea thief. To this type of creature, I reserve my vast arsenal of verbal ammunition as befits the fury of an employee scorned, an unleashing for which hell perhaps hath none to match.

The idea thief is usually someone in power or at least someone near the place or person of power. He or she is a walking hallucination, a testament to the fact that a little absolute power corrupts just as absolutely.

Brainstorming sessions and power meetings are the ideal turf of the idea thief. The thief is in his or her element when fishing for novel ideas cooked up in brains other than his or hers.

One employee I know was aghast at the temerity of this type of creature because the stealing of ideas was perpetrated at the most casual of conversations. On the pretext of asking her subordinate’s opinion on an office project, it dawned on this creature that someone else’s idea was brighter than hers and it could be of good use. Conferring with the big bosses by email, the creature soon passed off the idea as all hers, hers, hers.

The higher-ups, understandably, were rightfully amazed at the ingenuity of this woman who came up with a fantastic idea they had never thought of before. “Maybe she deserves a raise, a promotion, or...a tour of the USA?”

They could have meant “foxy” and “shrewd,” even “scheming.” But “ingenious”? As expected, credit was given where it was NOT due. Next day would see the creature preening in a self-congratulatory pat on the back even as the idea’s originator was bristling in anger, feeling violated, even profaned. Meanwhile the horde of silent witnesses were fuming mad at the audacity of the idea thief; they were toying with the twin idea of cold-blooded murder and mass resignation.

It could be that the creature had roughly the same idea beforehand, which she chose not to express. Then why didn’t she exclaim, “I had that same idea!”, and acknowledge the person just the same?

It could also be that the idea thief was afraid that her subordinates might be discovered to be better in a particular task than her and she might lose her job. But isn’t it a good management credo to be glad that you got the best staff at your beck and call? It may only be a matter of time before they take over your job, but who knows? That job may be better suited to them in the first place, and you, as senior officer, are better suited to move on to another and hopefully something better.

Idea thieves are among those who give the corporate jungle its reputation of being just that – an Amazon rainforest. Their social decorum is impaired, their sense of right and wrong infirm, and it's awful that I am being politically correct. They’re most probably the insecure types who grew up being belittled by mom and dad and the dog that when they grew up they couldn’t help but prove themselves by hook or by crook, even at the expense of the more deserving.

It is but rightful to shun them and withdraw from them all manner of affection, even affectation. Wait… What they deserve are just that -- affectations of honor and respect, plus a personal taste of the adage, “It’s lonely at the top.” Then again, decent people don’t do such a thing as giving somebody a dose of his or her own medicine, and in the same exact dosage, too.

Nevertheless, idea plagiarists bring out the inner wildebeest in a wronged employee, no matter the glamour of the work location, no matter how high up one is situated in the corporate hierarchy, and notwithstanding all the natty Italian suit and leather, the French perfume and the Wharton MBA. In this kind of world, cutting edge technology takes on another meaning, one synonymous to deadly weaponry. With corporate sharks like this, you cannot help but regard the corporate world sometimes as a culture about as sophisticated as that of an herd of gnus in the African veldt.

If there’s one idea I wish idea thieves would steal, it is this: the idea of a conscience that knows what’s wrong and what’s right.

11.23.2001

125. Negative Humor Damages Relationships

It can be a tragic mistake to even participate in it passively - by appreciating the joke with our laughter. Sure, negative humor is fun in all caps, who wouldn't enjoy it? It perks up an otherwise tedious and bland working life. It makes things less demanding. It's a perfect comic relief.

But is it really? Negative humor is often done on somebody's expense. "Why do you walk like a penguin?" "Look at how he speaks, he quacks like a duck." These are just soft examples but all are unwarranted personal attacks.

Words, these are just words, we say. But words have a certain power. There are words, no matter how funny, that strike somebody's vulnerable chord, words that trigger bad memories - and with them, all the attendant pain and embarrassment. We cannot be too scrupulous with words.

All of us have that vulnerable part in our psyche. That's why even when negative humor is self-deprecating, it is capable of damaging ourselves, unless we are strong enough and humble enough to take anything. Generally, though, we cannot pretend we're invincible to such put-downs. All of us - even those who assume a tough façade, has that inner onion skin waiting to be shattered.

It would be a good thing if a putdown engenders humility. That would keep our feet on the ground. That would keep us human. But isn't our mortality more than enough? What if the joke triggers our innermost insecurities or any of the struggles we've been fighting inside ourselves? The consequences are disastrous. There is such a thing as a bad joke.

It's prudent to refrain from participating in such jokes. It's advisable not to be an author of such jokes.
And we should equally demand not to be its subject. Everyone has the right to be encouraged, affirmed, inspired.

A Christian writer, Mark Kinzer, has written a classic, 'Taming the Tongue,' where he says that our tongue is like the rudder of a boat. It's just a little piece of a seemingly harmless muscle but it is capable of bringing down a personal reputation or an entire civilization. Like a rudder, the tongue can guide us to the safety of the shore or to the mouth of certain destruction.

This doesn't translate to a workplace that's dead serious, to the point of lugubrious, either. It's a myth, nay a lie, that negativity has a monopoly of what is fun. Dare to try harmless, non-malicious jokes instead and see how the workplace perks up just like before - minus the guilt. Harmless jokes never capitalize on other people's weakness. Best of all, they are free from negative backlash. They never damage relationships, they only nurture them.

Let's exorcise the workplace from the demon of excoriating humor. It's certainly hard to change overnight something we've been doing since birth, but it's a good thing to try some positive change. If we may paraphrase a line attributed to Goethe, "Watch your words…they become your destiny."

7.6.2003

And the devil went to the penthouse

Suddenly, a lady 'participant' stood up in the middle of the inspirational talk and raised herself up on a monobloc chair, screaming derangedly.

“Yes! Yes! No! Yes! No! Nooo!”

We all thought she was just that -- a lunatic. The ocassion was a Catholic, "charismatic' prayer meeting" held at the penthouse of some tower in Makati. In attendance were roughly a hundred people from all walks. A speaker was on the microphone giving a sort of closing remarks.

Everyone present was distraught when the talk was suddenly pierced by her profane screams. What was this lady, an otherwise respectable high school teacher, yelling about - in the middle of someone’s speech yet!?

These participants were in the last stages of the Christian Life Program (CLP), otherwise known as the Life in the Spirit Seminar (LSS) among born-agains. This is the Catholic version of the born-again LSS.

Soon enough the woman made it somewhat clearer for all to hear: “Yes," she shouted, "I will follow you!"

"No, I won’t!"

"Noooo! Noooo! Yeees! Nooo!”

The screams became louder and louder as the words became more and more unintelligible, like the devil speaking in tongues. Then the woman dropped to the floor and shook violently. Her seatmates - her co-teachers - stood back wide-eyed, unmoving.

But the leader of the charismatic group knew what to do. It seemed it wasn’t his first time to witness such a scene. Immediately he instructed the members to lay their hands on and pray over the woman, now slithering like a snake on the floor, her teeth gnashing, the corners of her eyes snapping pointedly like daggers.

The ten or so people who found the courage to throng around her were having a hard time restraining her. Her beastly growlings lent an air of indescribable agitation, at least to those who were new to this, including me. The pious crowd couldn’t help but counter with mutterings of “Jesus, Jesus” as they helped vainly in casting out the devil.

The rest of the crowd chose to remain calm as they recited together a common prayer delivered by the leader on the microphone. Prayer-hymns were sung, in the Augustinian belief that singing in prayer was like a prayer said twice over.

Just when I thought I've watched, read about, and heard everything about things supernatural, I realize that nothing beats a first-hand account. A 'demon' 'took possession' of the woman, it was reportedby an 'elder' of the community, and it was quite hesitant to leave. A community member ran away to procure a blessed scapular. Another ran for holy water. The praying and singing turned even more fervid.

But the devil apparently took offense and bristled anew with roars. The confrontation seemed to last forever. Finally the group leader, finding that speaking in the microphone from afar wouldn't work, approached the possessed woman and uttered a prayer of deliverance and showered her with holy water. He practically played the role of resident exorcist.

Soon the otherworldly strength of the possessed waned and her growls turned into harmless gibbers which turned into moans of “Abba! Abba!” (“Father! Father!”).

Hands of members and the other participants, tired from being held aloft for quite some time, suddenly broke into enthusiastic applause.

But the woman’s fellow CLP participants remained wide-eyed, too stunned to process what had transpired.

There was unbearable silence soon after. Going back to the microphone, the leader then encouraged the flock to sing joyful songs of victory in thanksgiving. The Hail Mary was chanted thrice. St. Michael the Archangel was also called upon. The spiritual warfare was over.

After realizing what came over her, the possessed woman came up in front of everybody and tearfully gave some word of thanks.

A week after, I would learn from reputable membeers that the woman was said to have long been depressed, saddled with long-standing personal problems when she decided to attend the CLP.

I would also learn that CLP participants are routinely advised to make a thorough confession before commiting to activities such as this.


***

I came to attend this gathering because an officemate, an engineer, invited me. I was intrigued that a man of applied science would be so into things spiritual as well. Besides, I was in some kind of soul-searching myself at the time. And so, I gladly accepted the invite.

Little did I know that it would somewhat be punctuated with such a horrible episode. I would go home that night trying vainly to fight off what I had seen as I retired alone in my room. I was quite fond of artsy horror stories but what I saw could not even compare to The Blair Witch Project and M. Night Shyamalan’s movies. I thought those things only happened in fiction, in old films such as The Exorcist. And now I was in the middle of it, scared witless about the devil possessing not just that woman but… me!

I can only second-guess what the others thought that night they went to bed. All of us came to that gathering purposively to find that elusive peace of mind and spirit that the woman was trying to find. We were not much different to one another in that regard. Now we had to contend with the fact that we could be so troubled just like her and… we could be so visited against our will.

Yet curiously, strangely, no one among us found running away as a convenient option that time. Most serious LSS sessions are several months’ worth of two- to three-hour meetings and I distinctly remember most people came back to the session – until we finished the LSS and “graduated” with flying colors.

If someone did not come back ever, it was that lady and her officemates. I figure they were too embarrassed for it.

Perhaps we, who chose to stick it out, realized that everything was a bluff - the ‘devil’ was bluffing us - and we chose to call his bluff.

Eventually we would learn that it’s precisely people who give in to fear and despair that evil spirits love to make friends with the most. We permit them demons to engulf us by giving in.

I figure we all chose faith – plus the hope and the joy associated with it. This was apparently a battle of wits and wiles. We all chose not to allow the enemy – a gatecrasher at the penthouse party – to get the upper hand and get away with it.

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(This is a major coup! I was able to get a version of this published in Fudge magazine, May 2005.)