Many times at my place of work, I’m reminded of this scene
from MASH:
FRANK BURNS: No, no, no, Sergeant. From now on, you will not
simply slop food onto these trays. Look at this random arrangement, Major.
MARGARET HOULIHAN: I'm looking.
FRANK: The kidney beans have slopped from the bean
compartment into the applesauce compartment. The dehydrated potatoes are in the
every compartment. It's no wonder I never have an appetite. Sergeant, I want
standardization of compartment usage. When I look down a table at trays I want
to see beans, beans, beans, beans! Potatoes, potatoes, potatoes.! - Applesauce,
applesauce, applesauce! Got that?
IGOR: Yes.
FRANK: Yes, what?
IGOR: Yes, sir.
FRANK: Yes, sir, what?
IGOR: Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full?
(Script courtesy of Springfield! Springfield!)
Frank clearly wants precision. Predictability. Order. Igor
just wants to serve the food, knowing full well the order in which it’s placed won’t
matter since people will either eat the food or dump it and then complain about
its quality.
If the food works for his customers, Igor thinks, why fuss
over compartment standardization?
Yet here I am in the compartment standardization business at
work. I admit to not being as rigid and precise as others. And, generally
speaking, I don’t hear many complaints about that from the people I work for.
But I’m working to improve my precision, because that’s
what’s called for. I want the paychecks to keep coming, and if that’s what’s
required, so be it. Because it’s impressive to show at dog and pony shows that
everything is compartmentalized, just as Frank desires. And to a certain degree
of precision, I agree with that.
Those fully in the Precision Camp chalk it up to laziness.
And I’ve been called lazy – both rightly and incorrectly – before. But sometimes those of us in the If it Ain’t
Broke Don’t Fix It Camp point to the name of the camp we’re in.
But it’s mine to deliver a Francophone “Bof” and do what’s
required. Echoing what they say at Camp Precision: “It’s not THAT hard.”
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