Sometimes you just have to puncture someone's pompous balloon

When I was promoted to Sales & Marketing Manager at Cannonball Courier Services, the oldest and largest in Chicago, my boss Janet pulled me aside. "Eric, it will take me a month to get you an office so just be patient." Hey, no problem. The sales staff is afraid of me after my lowering the boom so they don't come into the office anyway except for Mondays.

This meant that Jim, who worked in Operations would be walking the plank. Who was Jim? Well, if you looked up the word obsequious in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Jim. He was a walking, talking Far Side comic strip right down to the blank, hollow eyes.

He had this Eddie Haskell way about him that got under your skin. "Eric, that is a very nice tie you have on today. Where did you get it?" Recalls the "My, that is a nice house dress you are wearing Mrs. Cleaver." Now I am not a prankster by nature. This is the only time that inspiration struck me to have some fun at someone else's expense.

One afternoon around 3:30 PM on a bright sunny summer afternoon, Jim had a meeting with the operations manager in his office. He was gone for over an hour. I got this sudden burst of inspiration after seeing our building maintenance man stop by the department. Seizing the moment, I said, "Come with me."

We entered Jim's office where his large desk sat prominently in the corner at an angle facing opposite the door. I pointed Joe to the side opposite me and directed him to follow my lead. We then swiveled the desk 180 degrees so that it was now opposite and facing the back wall. We completed the "interior design makeover" by putting the chair in place facing the desk to the back of entrance to his office. Perfect. took less than one minute. We were in an out. Cue the them music from the show Mission Impossible. The maintenance man Joe, a very close friend, shook my hand and smiled silently.

My desk was opposite his office so I had the perfect vantage point. Jim came in around 4:00 PM and stood frozen at his doorway. He kept looking back over his shoulder as if frozen in a double take of disbelief. He then bolted down the hall to tell the president, Janet, exclaiming Mom,. Mom, like Beaver Cleaver.

Janet comes in, bursts into laughter and quickly collects herself so as to not further embarrass Jim who is now gesticulating, waving his arms and speaking in short bursts as if someone just gave him a snuggie in the coat room at grammar school. He is pacing and pasty.

Janet looks at me and asks, "Eric, did you see anything?" Janet, I just walked in. Ten minutes later I come to her office saying, "I know who the culprit is." Who? "You are looking at him. Janet burst into the giggles shaking her head, looking down in amazement. Eric, Eric, Eric.

During the weekly manager's meeting, Janet would mention an underperforming salesman of mine and say, "Eric, tell him to "get the lead" out. I would then let out a Led Zeppelin Robert Plant howl.

Eric, what do you mean? Led Zeppelin. You said to get the lead out. Nancy is on the floor in hysterics and Janet is shaking her head, smiling. "Eric, Eric, Eric . . ."

Sometimes you just have to pop that Goodyear blimp sized balloon of pomposity.