Individual and Mass Madness

We heard it with annoying regularity, the bromide about “thinking outside the box,” so we did what any sensible person would do.

The Puerto Rican “no.”

“Well, I’ve lived in England, Spain, Cuba, and Puerto Rico, so I know at least four ‘noes.’ But the Puerto Rican ‘no’ is the only one I can’t do anything about.” Words a friend said to me, years ago.

And that would be?

“You ask for something, and it’s instantly agreed to. Absolutely! No problem! And then nothing happens. You protest, and the process repeats. You beg, you cajole, you cry, you scream, you threaten. All to no effect. Nothing happens…. And you can’t have a rational discussion because they keep agreeing!”

An exaggeration, of course, but there is some truth to it.

Maybe it was that just some Puerto Ricans practiced the “no”—others didn’t.

But those who did, did it almost reflexively.

The multitudes of you who check your computers scores of times daily—awaiting a new post!—will know about the ten-foot rule, so beloved of Sam Walton. You had to smile, greet, and offer help (if in the stores) to EVERY customer within ten feet.

All part of that Wal-Mart culture!

Well, it was also part of the culture—the real one, that is—to pay lip-service and leave.

Well, the lips were pretty convincing, that 10-minute-really-half-hour weekly meeting of Human Resources. How that lady talked! The service those lips provided! She virtually role-played Sam W. challenging us to do the ten-foot rule!

She left to go visit the stores. I trailed behind her. I smiled and greeted.

Bet you know who didn’t!  

So I took it all seriously, sort of. And by chance or design, I thought outside the box in at least two ways.  First physically, when I could bear no more and had to leave the madness behind and look at iguanas. And second, creatively, when I had my spate of ten brilliant ideas daily and had to go tell someone about it.

I realize now what that slight but perceptible rise in shoulder level meant….

Well, I suppose if there is a Puerto Rican no, there may be a Wal-Mart no, as well. If so, it was generally postceded (well, look, what about preceded?) by the proper noun “Marc.”

Though some of my ideas were really very good.

Did you know that you should keep fruits strictly segregated from meats?

Logical, really—how many times have you picked up a package of meat, and gotten a sticky, bloody hand for the effort?

Right—and where is the produce department in most stores? Right by the entrance.

Which means that almost inevitably you’ll have to put the leaking meat packages over or near the fruits. (By the way, you probably should use the little baby seat for fruits and vegetables….)

Well, that came out at one of the monthly meetings, during which we were routinely peppered with the question ¿cómo se siente?—how you feeling!—to which we would mechanically roar “¡Super bien!, oooh, ahhh, ay, YES!”

That’s culture, you see!

(Get why I was out behind the building?)

Well, I got to work on that problem! Hey, don’t we have a responsibility to our customers? Aren’t we an industry leader? As Wal-Mart moves, so moves the country!

And it was gonna start right here, in Puerto Rico! Yeah, we were gonna be the pioneers in an adventure that would save millions of lives, and it was starting here, right here, not just in Puerto Rico, or in Caguas, but in the creatively explosive atmosphere of Marc Newhouse’s classroom!

Gentlemen—we gotta redesign the shopping cart!

“Look,” I was exclaiming to the head of Loss Prevention, “this is what we can do. Put a little basket with a picture of a banana—here, I drew it—on the right side of the cart. Now, we got another little basket—got a burger on that one—on the left side of the cart! See! Look, this is the redesigned shopping cart, called a SaftiCart, which is a very good name, if I do say so. Just look!”

He barely glanced.

Well, at least he didn’t tell me to throw the plans in the wastebasket as I left….

Still think it was a good idea, though.

It was the world of the corporate no. And to be fair, not all of my ideas were quite so good.

“Listen, I got this plan to absolutely ensure that we get the bonus EVERY year.”

Well, the bonus was quite a juicy plum, especially for the already well compensated. So it did get the CEO of Wal-Mart Puerto Rico, Inc.’s attention.

I had just finished telling him that I was legally married to a guy and Wal-Mart needed to put Raf on the medical plan.

Thought to lighten the air in the room….

“We build an extra Sam’s Club and an extra SuperCenter somewhere, but we don’t tell Bentonville! That way it’s pure gravy! They can’t expect us to make any money off a store they don’t know exists, can they? So all the profit goes straight to the bank! And bang into your pocket, at the end of the fiscal year!”

He was puzzled, but painfully earnest.

I kept trying.

“Well, the gringos are hardly gonna run around the island, actually counting the stores, are they? Come on!”

He was a very powerful, probably very rich guy.

From Colombia.

And so had no use for the Puerto Rican “no” (if it exists…).

No, Marc!

Gotta be photoshopped, but fun to think about, anyway….