Wrigley Field. From there it submerges underground, and deposits him in the Jackson subway station, steps from his office.
The CTA is universally maligned. Riders complain that it is dirty, inconvenient, and, as a rule, late. But, with gas prices and parking taxes soaring, there is little choice for thousands but to take it.
The CTA is a monopoly. It has no competition. As such, commuters aren’t really customers. They are hostages, and their relationship with their captors is love/hate. It’s textbook Stockholm Syndrome.
Peter can relate to the CTA, though. He has been an attorney for the city for ten years, the Department of Revenue, no less. The only thing people can stomach less than a lawyer is a lawyer enforcing parking and tax codes. In terms of public sentiment, hatred towards Peter’s department easily surpasses the CTA, Hillary Clinton, and French émigrés combined.
There are stereotypes that befall most professions. Usually, those stereotypes can be summarized by a single question. For cops: “Have you ever shot anyone?” The question is as loaded as a cop’s revolver. It assumes not only that the use of force may be required, but also that there is a propensity toward it. For Peter, the question he is asked dozens of times from people as disparate as drunken Cubs fans to dignitaries: “Can you get me out of my parking tickets?”
The question offends Peter because it supposes that there is still corruption in Chicago, and that, as a public employee, he is inclined to partake in it. Also, it just plain lacks originality.
Peter does not believe Chicago government is a broken system managed by dysfunctional people. He works with too many bright people with innovative ideas and a genuine love for the city to ever think that. But he cannot deny that there are rotten apples. Even if they have not spoiled the bunch, the rotten apples seem to be the ones that residents consistently eat with distaste.
Peter wants to change perceptions, so he lobbies to do so and gets carte blanche. It isn’t hard. With scandal after scandal tracking across the covers of the papers like a sports ticker each day, the Mayor needs a win.
A bureaucratic monster stands ugly and glaring before him. He meets with various personnel, and is pummeled by excuses.
“We don’t make widgets.”
“We don’t have customers.”
“This is how we’ve always done it.” This last offered by Tommy Rails, a procurement manager. Rails is a rotten apple, lacking the skills to properly supervise and the intelligence to realize those skills are nonexistent.
But Peter is up for the challenge. Ninety-six percent of all problems result from breakdowns in processes. Peter studies processes like a boy with a magnifying glass, transforming them, filling in gaps, removing redundancies, and establishing best practices.
But four percent of problems are people, people like Rails. More and more, Peter’s magnifying glass sweeps over Rails and his cronies. It draws them into relief. Soon it will bring light, and with that, heat. Peter will fry them like the bugs they are.
But not today. Rails staged a protest, calling in sick. It is a coordinated strike. Nearly twenty percent of the staff called in as well. The absences trouble Peter. Several supervisors participate in Rails’ blue flu, including a few of Peter’s acolytes.
Besides, Rails’ story isn’t even plausible. After all, who stays home because of a bite, especially one from his teenage daughter?
Right there, Peter decides on his next crusade: combating chronic absenteeism.
Peter’s peers like to say Peter is “in the zone.” The reality: Peter is never outside the metaphoric zone. His mind is a constant hive of activity, and he lives with a constant, pulsating buzz that, despite its deafening silence, drowns out interpersonal stimuli.
Peter is trapped in the zone.
There is an otherness, an apartness that prohibits him from really engaging his fellow man. He lacks the ability to
The CTA is universally maligned. Riders complain that it is dirty, inconvenient, and, as a rule, late. But, with gas prices and parking taxes soaring, there is little choice for thousands but to take it.
The CTA is a monopoly. It has no competition. As such, commuters aren’t really customers. They are hostages, and their relationship with their captors is love/hate. It’s textbook Stockholm Syndrome.
Peter can relate to the CTA, though. He has been an attorney for the city for ten years, the Department of Revenue, no less. The only thing people can stomach less than a lawyer is a lawyer enforcing parking and tax codes. In terms of public sentiment, hatred towards Peter’s department easily surpasses the CTA, Hillary Clinton, and French émigrés combined.
There are stereotypes that befall most professions. Usually, those stereotypes can be summarized by a single question. For cops: “Have you ever shot anyone?” The question is as loaded as a cop’s revolver. It assumes not only that the use of force may be required, but also that there is a propensity toward it. For Peter, the question he is asked dozens of times from people as disparate as drunken Cubs fans to dignitaries: “Can you get me out of my parking tickets?”
The question offends Peter because it supposes that there is still corruption in Chicago, and that, as a public employee, he is inclined to partake in it. Also, it just plain lacks originality.
Peter does not believe Chicago government is a broken system managed by dysfunctional people. He works with too many bright people with innovative ideas and a genuine love for the city to ever think that. But he cannot deny that there are rotten apples. Even if they have not spoiled the bunch, the rotten apples seem to be the ones that residents consistently eat with distaste.
Peter wants to change perceptions, so he lobbies to do so and gets carte blanche. It isn’t hard. With scandal after scandal tracking across the covers of the papers like a sports ticker each day, the Mayor needs a win.
A bureaucratic monster stands ugly and glaring before him. He meets with various personnel, and is pummeled by excuses.
“We don’t make widgets.”
“We don’t have customers.”
“This is how we’ve always done it.” This last offered by Tommy Rails, a procurement manager. Rails is a rotten apple, lacking the skills to properly supervise and the intelligence to realize those skills are nonexistent.
But Peter is up for the challenge. Ninety-six percent of all problems result from breakdowns in processes. Peter studies processes like a boy with a magnifying glass, transforming them, filling in gaps, removing redundancies, and establishing best practices.
But four percent of problems are people, people like Rails. More and more, Peter’s magnifying glass sweeps over Rails and his cronies. It draws them into relief. Soon it will bring light, and with that, heat. Peter will fry them like the bugs they are.
But not today. Rails staged a protest, calling in sick. It is a coordinated strike. Nearly twenty percent of the staff called in as well. The absences trouble Peter. Several supervisors participate in Rails’ blue flu, including a few of Peter’s acolytes.
Besides, Rails’ story isn’t even plausible. After all, who stays home because of a bite, especially one from his teenage daughter?
Right there, Peter decides on his next crusade: combating chronic absenteeism.
Peter’s peers like to say Peter is “in the zone.” The reality: Peter is never outside the metaphoric zone. His mind is a constant hive of activity, and he lives with a constant, pulsating buzz that, despite its deafening silence, drowns out interpersonal stimuli.
Peter is trapped in the zone.
There is an otherness, an apartness that prohibits him from really engaging his fellow man. He lacks the ability to
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