You know the situation: you’re just going along, doing your thing, and you get word that your boss, or your boss’s boss, wants to meet with you for some behind-closed-door time.
I don’t know about you, but I always figure that I’m about to get my butt chewed. And, indeed, over the years many of those invitations to chat have been, ah, painful. Sometimes, I’m pleasantly surprised, and it’s not an ass chewing. But like most of us, I always fear the worst.
So, my boss calls me today while I’m on the train headed to New England. My conversations with him are always good, and he’s one of the best bosses I’ve ever worked for. As a civilian, probably the best. So, George says to me, “You have an appointment on Monday at 10AM to talk with the Vice Admiral.”
Okay, that’s my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss.
Okay, the admiral is new; I’m thinking maybe I’m briefing him on the work of our little work group. I know George will be flying west to California on Monday and Byron might be out also, so maybe I’m the only one in the office. After all, there’s only three of us.
I ask George, thinking that this is the incoming brief or maybe specific questions on our products and services or maybe an opportunity to provide services directly to the senior leaders, “Do you have the briefing materials.”
Er, this isn’t about work. This is about blogging.
Ah, shit, I’m headed to the principal’s office.
“Is there an agenda?” I ask.
George says he doesn’t have any additional information.
Great; this will make the next five days a real joy as my brain concocts a million scenarios as to why the vice admiral wants to speak with me, directly, one-on-one. And, with my mind, it’s not a pretty picture, let me tell you.
The vice admiral’s certainly not planning on congratulate me on the arrival of Number Five. I know, because he did that by phone. What’s left is an ass chewing or a caning.