Once upon a time, K.Lo mistook the Monk Bobblehead that sits on The Manager’s Desk for a small version of our CEO. Today, I wondered if the mind of Monk has perhaps overtaken my employee. Monk, in his quirky, lovable way, is extraordinarily OCD. He drinks a special kind of bottled water, he requires wipes after shaking hands or touching anything remotely germy. He is most demanding of his assistant, Natalie Teeger, verging on meltdown if she does not help to make his environment just so. Monk is a lot like a two-year employee.

Or, is the two-year employee like Monk.

All I know is, Management seems to spend quite a bit of time assisting the employee with Natalie Teeger-like tasks. Flicking infinitesimal specks off of food before it can be eaten. Pouring just a little bit more juice into the cup, increasing the ratio of juice to water so it tastes like juice, not water. Because the employee does not like water. Little stuff like this all.day.long., with Management’s failure to comply quickly escalating into a full-on employee strike.

On the one hand, I wish to acknowledge K.Lo’s experience: if something’s bothering her to the point of a meltdown, of course it matters, and as a good Manager, I want to console her and make it right. On the other hand, I want my employee to be adaptable, able to roll with the punches. Because after 18 years with the company, the employee gets pushed out of the nest, and the next level of employment will certainly not be so accommodating. Of course, Management chooses its battles as wisely as possible. But at the end of the work day filled with battles, I am not nearly so upbeat and good-humored as Natalie Teeger. I wonder why so many seemingly tiny issues have to be blown up so large.

Whatever the issue, K.Lo’s world comes screeching to a halt until it is addressed by Management. She cannot and will not be distracted. So, where is the balance between ignoring seemingly trivial employee demands and giving in to the point where it eventually creates the next Monk?

Consider the Suggestion Box wide open.

Last night, N.Lo required assistance with his work on the Night Shift, somehow getting his arm stuck between the bars of his cubicle. I dislodged the arm, patted his back, and helped him back to sleep. K.Lo, on the other hand, was mortally offended at her coworker's request for assistance, and proceeded to pitch a dead-of-the-night fit, which proceeded as follows:

K.Lo: [Incoherent screams, thrashing.]

The Manager: K.Lo, you need to go back to sleep. The Manager needs to sleep, K.Lo needs to sleep. The whole company needs to sleep so that we will all feel good in the morning.

K.Lo: Why not! Why not!

[She is saying "why not" because The Manager, in a recent moment of poor strategy asked the employee "Why not?" when she refused to go on Afternoon Break. Dumb, pitiful sap of a Manager.]

The Manager: I don't know why not. You tell me!

K.Lo [completely whining]: Why not...

The Manager [beginning to see that this conversation is more than ridiculous, cuts to the chase]: Are you scared? What's scaring you?

K.Lo: N.Lo scared... [Translation: N.Lo is scaring and/or bothering me.]

The Manager: Do you want N.Lo to leave?

K.Lo [pitifully]: N.Lo leave...

And there went my primal scream. Perhaps you heard me in the still of the night, all the way from my office to yours?

Maybe I shouldn't have asked the question; probably I shouldn't have. But the disgruntling truth of the matter is that the question does beg examination by the Managerial Staff: Is yet another corporate restructure in order?