Where the Wild Things Work

Who doesn’t love a trip to the zoo?

Well, probably the animals for whom it is a one-way trip, but that’s not really the point. The point is that you get to spend a happy, lazy day eating junk food and wandering past neat rows of tiny cages containing permanently trapped animals. As you stare at their cute faces, you just know that — if they could talk — they’d beg you to rescue them.

If you can’t afford the zoo, you can get much the same experience with a bag of vending-machine pretzels and a visit to the cubicle farm of any corporation in America. Except, as you walk past the cubicles and stare at the occupants’ cute little faces, they can talk and they will beg you to rescue them. If you’re feeling kind, you might toss a pretzel or two their way. Don’t encourage them too much, though, or they’ll break out and follow you home. It’s not that hard to escape a cubicle — unless all you have is a liberal arts degree.

Just like at the zoo, the residents of the small, plain cages are the less distinguished species. This category includes meerkats, ground hogs, and Assistants to the Assistant Vice-President in charge of Assisting the President. The more powerful and fascinating specimens are displayed in larger, more luxurious enclosures. These include lions and gorillas and CEOs.

The major difference between a zoo and an office is that zoos have convenient little signs covered with photos and maps and charts and text to teach you a little about the animal you’re viewing. The signs are written by zoologists who desperately want to validate their expensive university degrees and, therefore, use complex Latin terms the way most people use commas. Reading one is like taking an crash course in animal classification.

The Vorpal Bat (scythus flyingrattus) is a nocturnal flying mammal with a single sharp tooth mounted centrally on the upper maxillary ridge distal to the spine, but proximal to the gums. The keel-like action of the tooth (dentitious maximus) makes true flight impossible, so the Vorpal Bat (sillius madeupus) hangs from the branches of trees (tallus forestus) and drops on its unsuspecting victims (startledus humanus). Given that the Vorpal Bat (slowus creaturus) isn’t very fast, humans (smartus peoplus) tend to avoid its habitats and, consequently, the Vorpal Bat (starvingus predatorus) must subsist on a diet of leaves (treeus leaveus).

With a little luck, some determination, and your handy Latin/English dictionary you can puzzle through that dense chunk of text (and the accompanying maps, charts and pictures) and learn a thing or two about the fearsome, two-inch beast behind the glass. The people who design offices aren’t nearly as considerate when it comes to providing helpful information about the wild creatures behind the cubicles. It would certainly make things simpler when you’re trying to get something done.

The Corporate Director of Policy (rulesus maximus) is also known by the nickname the Icy No-Man for its cold-hearted refusal to consider any modification of company rules (granitus corporus). By nature it is a solitary creature, unlikely to interact with other denizens of the office (corporatus dronus). At ritual events such as office parties, it can be found standing near the buffet table tabulating the cost of the food to verify that the cost falls within Company Policy #C34/B — Appropriate Expenditures of Company Funds in Relation to Employee Morale. On rare occasions, it can be seen attempting to earn the affection of that cute receptionist from downstairs (attractivus coworkerus). Scientists are puzzled by this behavior as it has never, ever been successful.

The helpful graphics on the sign might include things like the creature’s normal range (large cities, especially those in the north-eastern United States), preferred diet (prune-whip yogurt), and protective camouflage (Brooks Brothers suit and wing-tips shined up to look like the hood of a black BMW.) Just like the signs at the zoo, though, it probably wouldn’t offer advice on what to do if you encountered one of these creatures in the wild.

Still, some information is better than none, right? And there are plenty of other interesting critters to learn about.

The Junior Executive (eagerus beaverus) will arrive early, stay late, and take on any assignment in a quest for approval. Known for its “can do” approach to any situation, the Junior Executive (puppyi enthusiasticus) is frequently observed trailing the majestic Gray-Suited Executive (upperus managementus) hoping it will drop crumbs of information. The Junior Executive (ladderus climberus) frequently engages in colorful PowerPoint displays in an effort to attract attention to itself. It is interesting to note that the Junior Executive (wheelus dealerus) does not reproduce in the wild; instead they are grown in vast industrial farms known as “Business Schools.”

While Junior Executives tend to be dangerous if you get in their way, other office creatures can be dangerous if you find yourself under them.

The Micro Manager (longus workdayus) has an overly large nose which it uses to stick in everyone’s business. From the lowliest custodial worker (cleaneii officus) to the most senior staffer (experienced workerus), all can fall victim to the morale-destroying poison of the Micro Manager (soulus succubus.) This frightening creature uses other employees like puppets, second-guesses their decisions, and tricks them into chasing their own tails. Left unchecked, a small cluster of Micro Managers (tedious supervisorii) can completely strip a workplace of any value in less than a year.

There are, of course, lots of other interesting creatures in the workplace; the yellus horribilus (or hollering boss), the clockus watcherus (or tiny-minded clock watcher) and the exceedingly rare effectivii workerus (or useful co-worker.) Just like the zoologists, the guy who studies the staff and reports on them belongs in a category all his own.

The Office Clown (smartus alecus) is dangerous when left to his own devices and should be kept as busy as possible to keep him out of trouble.