CHAPTER 1
Ordinary worlds begin stories. Intriguing events follow. Rising action comes next. Peak crisis appears, its completion following. Romero’s saga, our no-shitter, follows similarly. If some wrote their biography, librarians would place them into their fiction section. So, I’m afraid it is concerning our story.
Jason Argonaut, alias Romero Grant, lived within New York’s confines. Our first presenting events constitute our ordinary world. Jason Argonaut traveling upon his pedal pumper canoe constitutes our intriguing event. Can safely tell you, our intriguing events, though true, remain bizarre.
Frozen by Midas’ gold, New York’s Wall Street Bull charged toward Romero Ulysses Grant. Small-statured Romero knelt. He stuck his nose into white lilacs, smelling sweetness. He felt flower petals’ softness.
He had tucked his Irish red hair under his Irish gentlemen’s cap.
Pink lilacs, nestled between purple amongst lavender petals, giving their scents.
Romero[1] felt his soft satin pastel-blue shirt against his chest. His fancy tie, pointing toward Gucci shoes, pinched his neck. Gray wool slacks gave him woolies.
Tommy John Second Skin Boxers hid under his slacks. His underwear presents an important role in our later story.
Romero’s Old Spice scent billowed into his nostrils.
His deodorant danced an Irish jig within his nose.
He felt awkward, not in place amongst tourists who dressed in T-shirts above jeans. Their jeans hid sneakers.
New York’s dull roar accompanied squawking seagulls. Chipmunks, squirrels, finches, they all rampaged amongst sparrows. Each gave their ever-present drone, reminding Romero about Nebraska’s rural life.
Ocean’s scanty bleach scent filled Romero’s nostrils. It danced upon his palate, constantly reminded him, New York remains ocean close.
Juliet[2] Zuraw[3]-Starosta[4] dressed, wearing her pink professional blouse which she wore over her light-blue, knee-length skirt. Egyptian jasmine, saffron, Moroccan bitter almond, cedarwood, musky wood, plus grey amber whiffs, came from her wrists.
Romero’s tall six-feet blond Human Resources chief slash events coordinator came barreling. Before Juliet stood two bulls. Romero was one.
Standing straight, Romero gazed across, viewing where her belly button hid behind her blouse.
Egyptian jasmine, saffron, Moroccan bitter almond, cedarwood, musky wood, plus grey amber whiffs, emanated from her cheeks. Rose came representing Romero’s harbinger. Lavender blooms represented Romero’s herald, but less so.
“Your presence embodies what that bull stands for,” Juliet flattered. “That bull charges into New York’s future.”
Juliet seductively gazed upon Romero. Her eyes glinted, flirting, they giving away her mind’s true contemplation. Had he noticed chocolates nestled abreast roses? She had nestled chocolates near roses upon his desk.
“Thinking about my old days when ranching, dressing like common folks,” Romero grumbled in his soft countertenor.
Still have my 400 acres, but no time.
Childhood, muddy day images, shit-filled fingers, slosh squishing between my toes. They ever dance before my eyes, reminding me about olden days. Remember shit fragrance dancing upon my nostrils, then my tongue.
Juliet smiled courtly.
“Your efforts brought us far,” she informed Romero. She flirted. Her knowing wink came before her soprano. “Girls like that in their men!”
She ever so accidentally brushed her flesh against his. “Yep, ladies love soft skin again theirs.”
Romero cringed, desiring rough Herford bull flesh against his own. He also desired hay’s feel. Her lavender mixed thru rose perfume. For Romero, this tasted like vomit.
“New York’s bull charges forward, then away from our building,” Romero growled. “He sticks his ass toward those sitting within our building.”
“What an insensitive, crass ass!” Juliet muttered. Her hands moved against her hips. Her body jutted forward. She gave one friendly sneer. “You need work but I come, your professional giving it.”
Romero gave his bland smile.
“Spend time daily reflecting upon my bull,” Romero emphatically stated. “Relaxing daily within my flower’s company pleases me. So, does meditating amongst squirrels. Gazing upon Upper Bay’s gulls overhead comes very satisfying. Florae revives mother’s image, she working upon her garden.”
“Also, like flowers,” Juliet[5] Zuraw[6]-Starosta[7] purred softly using her soprano.
Romero smiled.
“You’re always putting them around my office,” exited through his fish-eating grin.
“Not everywhere,” Juliet courtly reminded.
“They ever come before me,” Romero complemented. “You’re one great Human Resources professional. You’re ever making sure Grant Biofuel offices come complete. From your efforts, they always have beautiful flowery fragrance.”
Romero, Juliet[8] beside him meandered through Bowling Green Park. Juliet stuck her hand out hoping Romero‘d take her hint.
He didn’t, his interest remained in touching petals, then leaves. He had no interest upon lavender mixed amongst rose which snaked from her wrist. He had no interest in flower fragrance entering his nostrils, then upon his palate.
“You’ll always have your soft flower touch,” Juliet flirtatiously toyed, using her soprano.
Juliet knelt, then picked Romero flowers.
“Un bouquet de fleurs,” Juliet presented. She highlighted her flirtatious glance. “One thing separating flowers from people. Flowers must always receive our delicate touch. Not so, people. Like flowers, success requires knowing which ones present themselves pickable.”
“Picked flowers die,” Romero grumbled. “When picked, people live. Your eyes can’t read. Battery Park’s sign, demands, ’Don’t pick flowers.”
Manhattan found Romero abreast Juliet.
They traipsed further into Battery Park.
New York’s Sailor’s Memorial held its usual gathering.
Seagulls squawking increased.
Upper Bay’s constant bleachy salt aroma rammed into Romero’s nostrils.
“Strolled through Central Park during our past weekend peering upon its Romeo,” Juliet,[9] playing Peanuts’ Lucy, muttered.
Manhattan’s magnificent statue stood au courant, Juliet.
“Ever notice how our parents’ gave your name, Romero, me, Juliet? Grant grew into America’s war hero. You’re our workers’ hero.”
“Interesting lovers pick,” Romero snipped. “That couple died while teens. I plan on living.”
Battery Park’s large, undulating crowd muscled against itself, one fish school before its whale.
Battery Park’s crowd moved toward its Merchant Mariners’ Memorial. Its large metallic eagle shimmered under Manhattan’s blue.
“Everyone soars like eagles under your leadership,” Juliet’s soprano hovered.
Gulls squawked overhead. Some, like New York’s homeless, dove upon garbage laying upon Manhattan streets.
Garbage soon disappeared.
They hiked past Battery Park’s Big Bird.
“Under your leadership, our corporation soars side-by-side Battery Park’s eagle,” Juliet opined.
“Eagles, prey birds, devour those around them,” Romero grumbled. “We deliver products providing life.”
“You’ve exceeded your Nebraska days.” Juliet in her soprano voice flirted, “You’re growing competitive. Girls like that.”
Their building, shimmering in blue, right behind Big Bird. It grabbed their attention.
Juliet Zuraw[10]-Starosta[11], abreast Romero, gazed upon Upper Bay’s eagle, they arriving at Battery Park’s Merchant Marine Memorial.
“One terrible war,” Juliet recalled. “During WWII, people lived more dedicated lives. They risked those lives protecting that eagle.”
“That harbor lady represents liberty!” Romero exclaimed.
“Wish our employees could be like that,” Juliet complained. “That’s what’s wrong within our nation. People won’t follow rules handed down from superiors. They won’t be good employees or citizens.”
Must admit, important as this next section is in understanding what happens to Romero Grant, some might desire skipping and next reading Chapter 3. Sophia[12] Gaῖa[13] debates some very academic stuff with Romero and Juliet.
One young lady approached wearing her badge identifying herself as Sophia[14] Gaῖa.[15]
“Nah!” Sophia argued. “That’s not what’s wrong within our nation. We have managers, but no leaders.”
“What’s their difference?” Romero questioned.
Managers manage things,” Miss Gaῖa opined.
Nobody desires being managed. It’s degrading. Everyone desires leaders, desiring being led. Our nation has no leaders. That’s why our nation gravitates toward fringe nuts, those upon our right plus those upon our left. People want leaders, not managers so they seek leaders from upon our fringes.”
Managers use plans. Plan comes from Latins plain. It means making everything, static, level. Within your plans, things aren’t static. You’re at your company’s top. Your peon’s your foot soldiers come below. Soldiers job is bringing death. Leaders bring life! Plans come static, dead. Things don’t change. People do.
You keep things how they are. You maintain them. Your managing parts is all wrong. First, you control things. You start by using your accounting, your paint by numbers.
Your ideal plan constitutes having your desk at your shift’s end exactly like it was when your day started. You call yourself officers because you sit all day in your office, not having any clue what goes on outside. Inside your offices, you put together your structure for implementing your stabilizing plans.
“How is that wrong,” Romero queried.
Sophia Gaῖa presented:
Organize comes from Greece’s root for energizing. It implies vitality. Don’t you argue your company’s right should equal human rights? You want all your rights, but no responsibilities.
You have organs, coming from your fancy Latin. Organ comes from our Fancy Greek, organ. It’s like some pipe organ or better human organs. It breathes vitality, something simple order simply does not have. Managers keep things static, how they are.
Leaders take us somewhere. They shepherd us. They energize us. They motivate us. They’re Jesus’ beautiful shepherd. Leaders take people where every vibrant, vivacious, verdant, grass grows. If you wanna know what leadership is, read Saint John’s Gospel, chapter 10. Focus upon versus 1-18, especially verses 2-4, 10, then verse 14. How can you say you know sheep if you don’t hang around them ‘n’ smell like them as Pope Francis said?
Desire learning about leaders? Refer upon one story from World War II. Two freshly minted ensigns aboard battleship New Jersey decided they wanted some ice cream. New Jersey’s, gedunk line was its usual length, sailors waiting patiently for their turn.
Officers, these ensigns jumped ahead in line. Making their cut, saying “Gangway for officers,” grumbling came from behind. One strong voice rose above others, called out, “Get back where you belong!” with a few expletives thrown in for added force.
These two new officers with Ensign’s Disease turned for delivering their severe dressing-down upon this insubordinate sailor. One stocky, craggy-faced fellow stepped out confronting them. It was none other than William full admiral Bull Halsey, and Third Fleet commander.
This, not sales, is what being a line officer is all about. It isn’t Management by Walking Around. That’s sales. It’s about smelling like your sheep, yet knowing the big picture, where your best pasturage is, as Pope Francis has said about shepherds, pastors, priests. It’s not about being in their office, cutting in lines so you can separate from crews sooner, but being constantly amongst your crews.
Unlike Bull Halsey, great leaders also follow Ernest King’s quote. “Great ship handlers never getting into situations requiring great ship handling. This requires seeing past paint by numbers and toward their big picture, steering their ships away from typhoons and toward those battles they need being in.
Managers think they’re salesmen, selling us upon their business plans and their allegedly great organization. We don’t want charismatic leaders. Charismatic leaders lead us off cliffs like lemmings. We do want visionary leaders, but purely visionary leaders who care not for their charges are charismatic leaders.
True leaders shepherd. They take us toward grand places. Beautiful or not, depends upon whether they are beautiful shepherds or not. Beautiful shepherds take their flock toward beautiful places. Managers take their flock nowhere.
Leaders employ carrots and sticks for motivating people,” Juliet voiced.
“Leaders inspire their followers,” Sophia Gaῖa argued back.
“Leaders lays emphasis on his relation with his crew, namely, that he is boss, and they are labor,” Juliet huffed.
“Leaders lays emphasis on his relation with his crew, namely, emphasis on his followers’ values, ideals, morals and needs,” Sophia shot back.
“Leadership is reactive,” Juliet stammered.
“We speak about mutual paranoia,” Sophia corrected. “In any management labor dispute, management is at fault. Management lacked that foresight needed for fixing problems before they became problems. They didn’t keep abreast what goes on within their fiefdoms, so, lacking foresight, they now must react. Management, even in stable organizations is proactive, fixing problems before they become problems.”
“Leadership establishes structure, then keeps it constant,” Juliet stuttered through.
“We stated, workers want leaders,” Sophia reminded:
They desire going somewhere. If management is stable, employees aren’t. Employees are always going somewhere. “Once cattle’s grass in one section gets halfway down, they need moved. Employees are similar. Follow Peter’s Principle, when work becomes stale, they constantly need moved toward their highest incompetence level. There should never be any Peter’s Plateau. We’re talking ’bout, developing employees!
In Erickson, this is generativity versus despair and we never want despair.
Reaching plateau, training becomes important for reaching their ever-higher plateau until retirement.
Erik Erickson correctly pointed out. Employees go through stages. For adults, this generally includes initiative, industry, identity, intimacy, generativity, and integrity. Levinson calls these, early adulthood (age 17 – 45), middle adult (age 40 – 65), late adulthood (age 60 – 85) and very late adult 80 plus.
These stages compare well with Erickson. Kids leave home, establish their identity, find their mate, then start their families. Age 30 transition ‘provides an opportunity for working on flaws and limitations, creating a new and more satisfactory structure for completing early adulthood.’ In this stage that the person feels a need for establishing their society roles. These reflection and stability stages continue throughout life until retirement.
Management needs being aware, concerning these stages and modeling their companies in kind. They don’t! They put kids managing adults, demeaning them, making them feel small, unimportant, pawns in their power games, not human beings.
“Direct people to quality products,” Romero argued.
“Desire developing talented, dedicated employees, not parts!” Sophia Gaῖa counter argued. “Contemplate our Memorial. Imagine yourself that sailor which that boat sails within. Workers, ordinary sailors, carry their fleet, rescuing them upon their proverbial weather deck.”
This concludes part one in Sophia Gaῖa’s debate with Romero and Juliet. It continues in our next chapter.
