Hypervigilance
Queeg had been a captain in the Merchant Marine during World War II, and he seemed to think he still was. Queeg was not his real name of course, but he reminded us of the unstable disciplinarian captain of the WW II minesweeper USS Caine, the Humphrey Bogart role in The Caine Mutiny. In peacetime, Queeg was vice president in charge of Insco’s physical plant – such things as cleaning and maintenance, heating and cooling, landscaping, the parking lot, and building security.
New rule
Soon after the building was fully staffed in 1971, Queeg held an all-hands meeting to familiarize us with the rules. Back then, people dressed for business: women wore conservative dresses or suits, men wore suits and ties. Queeg reminded us of the dress code, and added that men would need to wear their suit jackets when away from their desks. I raised my hand and asked how far away from our desks could we be before we needed a jacket. He was annoyed by the question, but instantly invented a rule, “Ten feet.”
Attitude survey
I think Queeg’s high-handedness was responsible, directly or indirectly, for a lot of employee unhappiness and turnover, especially during Insco’s early days. After a while, the personnel department developed an anonymous attitude survey, ostensibly to identify problem areas. The survey was immediately suspect because it wasn’t available for everyone to take – people were selected for it, perhaps one in every five or ten employees. People thought “happier” employees had been chosen, to make things look better at headquarters. Many of those not selected wanted to air their views, and asked for a chance to take the survey. These requests were denied, resulting in more discontent. Management eventually relented, and a new survey was offered, this time to everyone. The results were not made available.
Old Coffeestain
One day coming back from the cafeteria with a cup of coffee, I got on the elevator; Queeg and one of his direct reports, the site electrician, boarded right behind me. There was a fresh coffee stain on the beige carpet. Queeg said, I assume to the electrician, “Bunch of fucking pigs work in this building.” I couldn’t believe my ears, and winced. The electrician gestured at my cup, and in a roundabout way excluded me from, and apologized for, the insult, telling his boss “He’s got a lid on his.”
Surveillance
Trying to gather intelligence on what employees talked to each other about, one day he slouched down in the chair of an unoccupied corner (low traffic) cubicle, just listening. Word spread, and after several people walked by and pretended surprise to see him, he got up and left. He didn’t even have enough respect to invent a reason to be there. Jeez, bring a book and pretend you’ve found a quiet place to read.
Returning from lunch one day, I was surprised to see a security camera facing the elevator doors, a sign of things to come. Because the camera was new, I presumed there would be a crowd in the security office watching the feed, and faked a little flamenco dance. That’ll keep ‘em entertained. One more thing to hate us for.
I don’t know what our security guards’ crimefighting backgrounds were, but most of them seemed to come with an us-against-them mentality. “Hate” is a strong word, so instead I’ll say the guards disliked us – for making more money than them, for laughing and enjoying ourselves, for our low-grade disrespect, for sometimes soiling the carpet and making the Captain angry.
One night I was working alone in the terminal room and put my feet up on the workstation table while I studied the printout in my lap. A guard came by, stood in the doorway and stared at me, hard. I could tell it was all he could do to not slap my feet off that table.
People below a certain pay grade were paid $5.00 an hour for overtime. You’re right, it’s not much, but it was at least something, more than a lot of places. The back door was locked at night, and after six o’clock everyone had to exit through the front, signing their name and time in the logbook at the guard’s desk. One night several of us left at the same time, but twenty feet down the sidewalk I realized I had forgotten something. I turned around and reentered the building, to find Queeg leaning over the guard’s shoulder, checking the log to see if we had fudged our exit times. How did he get there so fast? He’d been hiding in the closet behind the guard’s desk.