CFO Folklore: The Illusion of Irreplaceability


Orange-is-the-new-blackThis is what always happens with severely responsible and talented people who take pride in the quality of their work and apply themselves hard, regardless of the rewards and recognition, material or otherwise: They do an extraordinary job in every function they are assigned, they show initiative and undertake tasks beyond their scope of responsibility, they set their own lofty goals and high performance standards, they pull off feats of creativity and miracles of ingenuity.  Truly they accomplish things that no one else would in their place. 

More frequently than not they don't run around screaming about their achievements – after all, they simply cannot operate any other way and they don't care that nobody asked them to be like that.  They themselves know that they are the best.  Plus, people around them acknowledge such efforts in one way or another – subordinates show respect, peers get testy, etc.  And the bosses?  They either don't notice anything, because their heads are usually up their asses, or they are too limited to appreciate the ace-level pilotage they are witnessing. 

As someone afflicted by this condition, I can assert that there is nothing healthy about it.  Privately wallowing in the knowledge that you are "simply the best" and that your work ethic is a cut above everyone else's, while not being adequately rewarded for your efforts, is nothing more than an addiction to one's own ego. It's vanity of the worst kind, because it violates the principles of objectivism and merit-based recognition.  And, like any addiction, it is accompanied by a couple of supplemental attributes. 

One of them is the inevitable development of passive-aggressive behavior: no matter how many times a person is going to say that she does it for the sake of her own self-satisfaction, something deep inside wants to be celebrated for the extraordinary abilities, efforts, and results.  This secret desire is in a constant fight with an extreme dislike of boasting.  Thus, the feelings and impulses get mostly suppressed and come out in the form of classic indirect hostility and resentment.

Another attribute is the illusion of irreplaceability.  The tormented crazies convince themselves that without them the company will not be able to survive; that everything will fall apart and go to hell.  They believe that there is no way somebody else could be found to fill their shoes.  And why not?  Nowadays, people like that are quite rare.  It's most likely that, if an employee in question leaves on her own accord or is let go for some reason (because she becomes unaffordable or her attitude becomes unbearable), the employer will never ever have someone that good in the same position.  But does it really mean that losing these truly invaluable workers is an incurable disaster?  Are they really irreplaceable? Let me answer this question by doing what I frequently do – relating the readers to an example from popular culture. 

In case you have not had a chance to check out the Netflix/Lionsgate's co-production Orange Is the New Black, I urge you to do so – trust me, you will not regret it.  The show's creator, Jenji Kohan (widely known for her Showtime offspring, Weeds), is a member of a still rare breed of entertainment developers, who is able to focus on female characters without reducing the finished product to gender-specific genres.  Orange is the New Black takes place in a women's federal prison, and its ratio of male to female characters is about 1:10.  Yet, 47% of IMDb users who rated Orange is the New Black (8.5 stars overall) were males.

One of the primary characters in the first season of the show is an inmate of Russian origin, Galina "Red" Reznikov (Kate Mulgrew).  This formidable woman runs… no, she rules the prison's kitchen and has an influence on pretty much the entire social canvas of the place.  By the show's start she has apparently been there for years and assumed a role of a Godmother for a tight circle of her "daughters."  She can be a real bitch, and a newbie should think twice before contradicting her.  But the truth is she is doing a remarkable job, keeping her fellow convicts and the staff fed and even rewarded with treats under the conditions of ever-shrinking budget, broken fridge, and oppressive hostility from some nasty guards.  As early as the 5th episode, it is impossible for the audience to imagine the kitchen without Red.  Obviously, she herself thinks she is irreplaceable.

Guess what?  Towards the end of the season, the combination of some people's foolishness and others' unsavory scheming gets her kicked off the throne and out of the kitchen.  So, what happens?  Do the lights go out in the mess hall forever?  Do the prisoners get shipped to another facility to be fed?  Nah ah!  Another head cook is found right there in the general population and installed in front of the range; she brings in her own crew; the cooking continues somehow.  True, there are no more yogurt favors, the menu is severely skewed towards Latin-American cuisine, and even the oatmeal comes out spicy.  But the plates are not empty, people are not starving.  Life goes on, while Red is driving herself insane with displacement anger.        

So, the answer to the above question is: No, you are not irreplaceable.  It may take a whole team of less adequate and more expensive people to pick up your tasks.  And collectively they will accomplish less and it will not be brilliant, but it will be just good enough for the business to continue, at least in the short run.  Let me assure you that nothing will fall apart, because doing things half-assed and with little care has become a widespread norm.  Everyone accepts poor quality at a higher cost nowadays, and so will your bosses.  And you, with your talents, skills and unsolicited attempts to jump over the high-standard bars, are just an ego freak.      

The Frustrated CFO Recommends a Forbes Article: Tina Turner Gives Up U.S. Citizenship


Tina TurnerConsidering how persistently we refer to our planet as a "small" and "inter-connected" world, it's remarkable to what extent every single country differs from others – even from the immediate neighbors, let alone those separated by oceans, social structures, wealth, religion, culture, etc.  And as someone who's been in international business practically all of her career, I am inclined to say that some of the most disparate, incompatible, and frequently irreconcilable national distinctions are the tax laws

There is a tremendous variation in rules and rates used by governments in order to hack away a chunk of revenues from native, resident, and even passing-through individuals and businesses.  Moreover, the relationships between the national tax legislatures are so complicated, they make international tax attorneys into some of the richest bloodsucking professionals.  This bullshit, frequently dictated by nationalism, makes the lives of international businesses and cosmopolitan persons alike very complicated and overly expensive.  More frequently than not human and artificial taxpayers (thouse who don't cheat and try to avoid going to jail for ridiculous violations) end up paying double, triple, and quadruple taxes.

I personally know people who gave up their US citizenship in order to avoid giving away their entire wealth to multiple governments.  Even though, as a financial professional, I totally support their decisions, it always made the patriot in me very sad.  But the fact that an American treasure, Tina Turner, will be Swiss now in the name of tax savings – that's just heartbreaking, granted she has been residentially foreign to her homeland for the past 18 years.  (By the way, my mind simply refuses to deal with Gerard Depardieu's becoming a Russian).

Robert Wood's article for Forbes (see the link below) is not necessarily the most coherent, but it's relatively brief and full of illuminating numbers that many of my readers will find interesting.  Enjoy it!

Tina Turner Gives Up U.S. Citizenship   

Quote of the Week: “Wave Bye-Bye to the Bureaucrat.”


Busy-office-workerSynopsis of James O. Incandenza's short (16 min) film Wave Bye-Bye to the Bureaucrat, Latrodectus Mactans Productions, Year of the Whopper:

"A bureaucrat in some kind of sterile fluorescent-lit office complex is a fantastically efficient worker when awake , but he has this terrible problem waking up in the A.M., and is consistently late to work, which in a bureaucracy is idiosyncratic and disorderly and wholly unacceptable, and we see this bureaucrat getting called in to his supervisor’s pebbled-glass cubicle, and the supervisor, who wears a severely dated leisure suit with his shirt-collar flaring out on either side of its rust-colored lapels, tells the bureaucrat that he’s a good worker and a fine man, but that this chronic tardiness in the A.M. is simply not going to fly, and if it happens one more time the bureaucrat is going to have to find another fluorescent-lit office complex to work in . It’s no accident that in a bureaucracy getting fired is called ‘termination,’ as in ontological erasure, and the bureaucrat leaves his supervisor’s cubicle duly shaken. That night he and his wife go through their Bauhaus condominium collecting every alarm clock they own, each one of which is electric and digital and extremely precise, and they festoon their bedroom with them, so there are like a dozen timepieces with their digital alarms all set for 0615h. But that night there’s a power failure, and all the clocks lose an hour or just sit there blinking 0000h. over and over, and the bureaucrat still oversleeps the next A.M. He wakes late, lies there for a moment staring at a blinking 0000. He shrieks, clutches his head, throws on wrinkled clothes, ties his shoes in the elevator, shaves in the car, blasting through red lights on the way to the commuter rail. The 0816 train to the City pulls in to the station’s lower level just as the crazed bureaucrat’s car screeches into the station’s parking lot, and the bureaucrat can see the top of the train sitting there idling from across the open lot. This is the very last temporally feasible train: if the bureaucrat misses this train he’ll be late again, and terminated. He hauls into a Handicapped spot and leaves the car there at a crazy angle, vaults the turnstile, and takes the stairs down to the platform seven at a time, sweaty and bug-eyed. People scream and dive out of his way. As he careers down the long stairway he keeps his crazed eyes on the open doors of the 0816 train, willing them to stay open just a little longer. Finally, filmed in a glacial slo-mo, the bureaucrat leaps from the seventh-to-the-bottom step and lunges toward the train’s open doors, and right in mid-lunge smashes headlong into an earnest-faced little kid with thick glasses and a bow-tie and those nerdy little schoolboy-shorts who’s tottering along the platform under a tall armful of carefully wrapped packages. Kerwham, they collide. Bureaucrat and kid both stagger back from the impact. The kid’s packages go flying all over the place. The kid recovers his balance and stands there stunned, glasses and bow-tie askew. The bureaucrat looks frantically from the kid to the litter of packages to the kid to the train’s doors, which are still open. The train thrums. Its interior is fluorescent-lit and filled with employed, ontologically secure bureaucrats. You can hear the station’s PA announcer saying something tinny and garbled about departure. The stream of platform foot-traffic opens around the bureaucrat and the stunned boy and the litter of packages… The film’s bureaucrat’s buggy eyes keep going back and forth between the train’s open doors and the little kid, who’s looking steadily up at him, almost studious, his eyes big and liquid behind the lenses… The bureaucrat’s leaning away, inclined way over toward the train doors, as if his very cells were being pulled that way. But he keeps looking at the kid, the gifts, struggling with himself… The bureaucrat’s eyes suddenly recede back into their normal places in his sockets. He turns from the fluorescent doors and bends to the kid and asks if he’s OK and says it’ll all be OK. He cleans the kid’s spectacles with his pocket handkerchief, picks the kid’s packages up. About halfway through the packages the PA issues something final and the train’s doors close with a pressurized hiss. The bureaucrat gently loads the kid back up with packages, neatens them. The train pulls out. The bureaucrat watches the train pull out, expressionless. It’s anybody’s guess what he’s thinking. He straightens the kid’s bow-tie , kneeling down the way adults do when they’re ministering to a child, and tells him he’s sorry about the impact and that it’s OK. He turns to go. The platform’s mostly empty now. Now the strange moment. The kid cranes his neck around the packages and looks up at the guy as he starts to walk away: ‘Mister?’ the kid says. ‘Are you Jesus?’ ‘Don’t I wish,’ the ex-bureaucrat says over his shoulder, walking away, as the kid shifts the packages and frees one little hand to wave Bye at the guy’s topcoat’s back as the camera, revealed now as mounted on the 0816’ s rear, recedes from the platform and picks up speed."

              David Foster Wallace Infinite Jest, pp. 687-689, Little, Brown and Company

(For those who are wandering whether I'm reading Infinite Jest right now: Yes, I'm reading Infinite Jest right now.)

Quote of the Week: More on the Intelligent Machines


Thom+Yorke+154424"I am not afraid of computers taking over the world.  They're just sitting there.  I can hit them with a two by four."

Thom Yorke

                    (suggested by Yana Alexandra Crow)

Quote of the Week: Self-Help Advice from David Foster Wallace


David foster wallace"Don't worry about getting in touch with your feelings, they'll get in touch with you."

David Foster Wallace