Guilt by Association
Back in the days when I was still incarcerated in corporate America, most of the sales department had gone on a little field trip to the sunny beaches of Florida (gotta love those “working” vacations). With them went most of the management in my department. So it was just myself and another lowly manager left behind to keep the other peons company.
As this was at a time when I was already in the dog house (for reasons I never found out why), I kept my head down low and just tried to get everything done. Although I had the reprieve of my captors being away, I was still overloaded with a ridiculous amount of work that would have made any seasoned pro cry.
So, I went to work and did what I needed to do. Every once in a while I heard a ruckus out in the cubicle farm that made me emerge from my cell to investigate what was happening. It turned out someone found an Internet game about a yeti throwing a penguin or something like that.
Well… turns out the other lowly manager who was left behind stepped forward and said something. The comment was something along the lines of “please remove me from your email distribution”. OK. Can’t fault them for that. But we knew there was some trouble afoot. It was further confirmed when everyone came back and this manager apparently volunteered the information that everyone was playing this game.
You see where this is going… I too got nailed for playing this game. I didn’t so much as go to the web site with the game, but I was deemed just as guilty as if I had. There was no getting myself out of it – I was guilty by association.
What should I have done? Maybe I could have also sent an email asking to be removed from the distribution, although I’m not sure that would have helped at all. I could have ratted everyone out, but I didn’t want to do that… even if it meant I would have been cleared, I can’t see how that would have benefited anybody. Even when I showed all the work I got done – which could never have been done if I stopped to play games – it still didn’t get me off the hook.
It just goes to show that once you’re in the dog house, there’s sometimes little you can do to dig yourself out.
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