Not my guest - Justin

Host:

Not my guest! Not my guest! Putting patience to the test.

Tie this rope around your neck, you fool, and I will do the rest

Drinks you spill, apps you horde

All your stories make us bored

Do please go home

Hostess:

Be judicious

Host:

Overruled now by the missus

You can’t sing. You can’t dance.

If an ally, you’d be France

Stop your staring at my neighbor’s daughter’s breasts

Go on, now take a glass

Then take a walk, you ass.

You’re not my guest!

Not my Guest!

NOT MY GUEST!

Host and party guests:

At charades, he can’t play

How we wish he wouldn’t stay

Host:

We’ll survive and persevere

With help from this cabernet

You lack class; you lack cheer

              You bring down the atmosphere

              While I hate to be complaining

               Nothing ‘bout you’s entertaining

              Not your jokes, not your tricks

               I’d smack you with a candlestick

Party Guests:

                A quick departure now would be your safest bet

                Let us refill our glass, and the knob hit your ass

                You’re not his guest

Host:

                Now I’m stressed

                It’s your leaving I suggest

Party Guests

                Not his guest! Not his guest! Not his guest!

Host:

                Your presence is unnerving

                Now it comes to dinner’s serving

                And we find an extra chair to sit upon

                Ah, those good old days when we enjoyed you

                Ah, but now those good old days are gone

                Ten years we’ve tolerated

                While your comeback we’ve awaited

                Hoping that you might regain some charm

                Most times we manage to ignore you

                But without invitation

                You walked in to our damnation

Hostess:

                Not a guest? Not a guest?

                Just an uninvited guest!

                Wine’s been poured and thank the Lord

                For he’s sure to be a test

                For dessert, we’ll have pie

                And with careful hand and eye

                I can squeeze another slice out

                If this vagrant doesn’t check out

                The chit-chat grows so cold

                Heaven’s sakes that joke was old

                Change the subject before everyone’s depressed

Party Guests:

                How much can we take?

Hostess:

                Wish we could catch a break

                From this our guest

Party Guests:

                Not your guest

Hostess:

                Yes my guest

Party Guests:

                Not his guest

                Not our guest! Not our guest!

                By your absence we’d be blessed

                We were fine before you brought your raincloud here

                You awful pest

                You’ve had food, you’ve had drink

                Now we wish away you’d slink

                While the candlelight’s still glowing

                Let us help you in your going

                Step by step, to the door

                Say “goodnight” you dreadful bore

                No more talk why can’t you give it all a rest?

                Please cease your mindless chatter

                You’ve made our nerves a tatter

                Not his guest!

                Not her guest!

                Not our guest!

                Please, leave you pest!

Unsought Guest - Jason

Unsought Guest

Unsought guest
Unsought guest
Put our patience to the test
Leave your napkin folded clean, monsieur
And then create a mess!
Soup you splash, spilled hors d'oeuvres
Why, you always strike a nerve
Try to pitch in, it's judicious
Don't believe me, do the dishes

You can sing
You can dance
After all, this is your chance
During dinner you should never take a rest
Go on, and clear your larynx
Take a stance and then
You'll be that guest
Singing guest
Unsought guest

Alphabet, Z to A,
Ghost of soft drinks put away
You prepare and serve with flair
An esophageal cabaret
You've got tone
And you've shared
But we were not prepared
That were silent, not complaining
Doesn’t mean you’re entertaining

Then Dad jokes
And dumb tricks
Yes, you really have a shtick!
And it all lacks any taste, that you can bet
Come now and hold your gas
You've cleared the room en masse
Of other guests
That you've stressed
It's refining we suggest
Unsought guest
Unsought guest
Unsought guest

You are so unswerving
With demands upon our serving
You’re not whole without a soul to prey upon
Ah, those good old days when you were useful
Suddenly, those good old days are gone
We let you in trusting, that you would not be disgusting
Needing exercise, you sought to test our skills
You think we just lay around the castle
Flabby, fat and lazy
You walked in and oops-a-daisy!

It's a guest, you’re our guest!
Sakes alive, hoped we’d be blessed
Then we’re gored, a sour chord
And then we’re all a bit distressed
Try dessert, let it be
Then complaints, that fill the sea
While the others are soft chewing

I'll be smiling, while I’m stewing
I'll get warm, piping hot
Heaven's sake, is that a spot?
Clean it up, you know just what makes me impressed
I've got a lot to do
And that’s in spite of you!
For you, our guest
Selfish guest (I’m not impressed)
You’re our guest

Unsought guest
Unsought guest
Constitution to the test
It's been years since I've let anybody near
And you're possessed
With your cough, with your sneeze
Yes, indeed, you’ve brought disease
While the Kleenexes are blowing
Let me help to get you going

Cough by cough
Pun by pun
Till I shout, "Enough, I'm done!"
Then I'll whisk you out the door as you still jest
Tonight you'll think, “what happened?”
But now you're just a chap and
Unsought guest
Unsought guest
Unsought guest
Don’t be my guest

Apologies to Strangers - Justin

To the friendly young man on the train:

          I am sorry if I was rude. You were obviously bored and needed some human interaction to make the trip go by. I was selfishly trying to finish a chapter in my book. I know that when you see someone reading you probably think the book is an icebreaker for a shy person that needs a starting point for conversation. Maybe that is for some. I actually had the book so that I could read and relax on my commute home. I know I should have been more polite in response to your probing “Is that a good book?” I know you were hoping for a more detailed description when you asked “What’s it about?” I tried my best to maintain some civility in answering your questions. I hope I wasn’t too harsh or standoffish. If so, I do sincerely apologize. And I am also sorry that although my brief description was apparently riveting enough to catch your continued interest, they have not yet made a movie from it since you “Don’t read much.” Somedays I don’t read much either. I’m sorry for your disappointment. I will try harder to find literature that has been bastardized into film for when I read in a public setting. It was truly unfair to dangle such interest before you and then to block you with the horrible obstacle of having to read. I really am sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful or entertaining in your time of need. And here I’ve done it again by writing this note. I’ve thrown the obstacle of reading before your path again. Maybe this will help: IMS

 To the woman at checkout three:

          I am sorry that my child called you out. It was, for us, a teaching moment on etiquette and courtesy when you stepped out from behind us to the newly opened line at the cue of “I can get the next person.” You knew you were not the next person, as did I, and were I alone in the store, the encounter probably would have ended with simply a nasty glare. Unfortunately, my whole family was there, and my eleven year old daughter has some difficulty discerning the use of inside and outside voice and she also knew that you were not next in line. I hope you do not fault my wife for responding to the child’s query about when one should learn about taking cuts with the fact that it should be learned in kindergarten. You must realize that we are a homeschool family. The question was more about curiosity of when the general public might learn these things versus a rhetorical question intended guilt selfish manners. My wife’s response was that of a teacher explaining the mysteries of life to her child; it was only delivered at such volume because she is used to answering questions that one child asks so that all can hear, and thus learn. Again, a teaching moment; not intended to make you feel bad. I hope after yielding back our proper spot in line, you did not have to wait too long. Also, considering your advanced gestational state, I hope you were not rushing in to get a couple of things on your way to the hospital. Regardless, I am terribly sorry for any inconvenience or embarrassment caused by my family and best wishes for the new baby.

To the man in the silver Honda on Sunday morning:

I am sorry that I cut you off as we were coming over the interstate. I am sure I interrupted a very interesting conversation with your friend or whoever you were chatting with on your phone, and I am sure it must have been of great importance and of the highest urgency or you would not have been ignoring my blinker for the five blocks that it was on while you hugged so tightly to my right rear quarter panel I thought that perhaps we might have been lovers in another life; that is, I might have thought so if I believed in past lives. I attempted to slow and let you pass and you slowed with me; I attempted to accelerate so as to change lanes at a safe distance, and you accelerated with me. You followed my lead through every step of the dance with ease, all the while carrying a conversation with someone else and ignoring my persistent indication that I wanted a change. Actually, I now realize that you are in fact very much like an girl I used to date. Regardless, I saw in the rearview as I departed your life, having broken the rhythm of our waltz, that you nearly dropped your iPhone; I am terribly sorry. Perhaps you should invest in some Bluetooth.

To the lady in the elevator:

I am so very sorry. I had been in the library for a couple of hours holding it in. I knew it was going to be bad. I knew when the doors opened and I saw you waiting that a warning was the right and prudent thing to do. But how does one broach that subject with a stranger? I saw your face as the doors closed; I watched you ascend through the glass panels of your own private prison hell. I tried to apologize then, mouthing “I’m sorry,” but I doubt you could see me through the tears. No one deserves to be blindsided like that; I should have swallowed my embarrassment and spoke up, but the moment passed and my conscience was too late. I am so very, very sorry.

Jason - Stranger

Dear Mister Brown Loafers,

First, let me apologize for not actually finding out who you were. Yes, a more decent person or perhaps less self conscious person might have swallowed their embarrassment and identified themselves. Sadly, I am not that person. In fact, as soon as what happened, happened, I knew there was no way, outside of an act of God, I was leaving my stall until you were completely out of the restroom. Even then, as I could feel my face rush with heat, I carefully considered how long I should wait before leaving, just in case you lingered outside. Thank you, for not lingering outside.

Second, if you hate those shoes, and there is no particular reason you should, I also apologize for for making them your moniker. I actually find them quite attractive. Your shoes that is and not in any perverted way. I should say, I mean this completely platonically. I find your shoes platonically attractive. Not to say you, yourself, are unattractive, or that I am interested, but the narrow band below the bottom of the stall wall and the floor only reveals so much of you. Without your actually name, I had so few things with which to address this letter. I originally started calling you Argyle Socks, but that sounded a little hipster and condescending. I considered Brown Trousers, but a pirate joke ruined those. So, I hope Brown Loafers is okay.

Third, I could tell from your hasty retreat, so fast in fact you forgot to wash your hands, you thought something was going on, on my side of the our shared wall. Please believe me when I tell you this was completely innocent. I am not that kind of person. I understand your concern, I would be concerned too, but please let me explain. See, I hate using sounds for my notifications, so I always keep my phone on silent. I most cases that little vibration is enough to let me know a notification has arrived. Over time, though, I have found, which perhaps you have too, that I feel vibrations when no notification has been given. Additionally, many times the phone is in a place where I can neither hear or feel the vibration given. This would have remained a minor annoyance, except I learned a great trick, where I could cause the flash on my phone to go off when I receive a notification. I have set my phone this way for sometime and have found this feature to be quite useful. Anyway, it was just in this state when you silently took your place in the stall to my right yesterday. As I sat there playing Sudoku, I remember thinking the tiny space was a little dim, perhaps a bulb was out. In that moment, my arms were in there most natural posture, elbows on my knees, allowing me to look down upon the nine by nine grid, but this also pointed the back of the phone, more importantly the flash, directly at the floor.

When my friend texted me, in that dimmer than usual space, I froze. I knew exactly what had happened. I heard the rustling from your side immediately cease. I knew what you must be thinking. I had no idea that the group chat was going to suddenly become alive with activity. I moved the phone up, away from the floor. Flash. I turned it toward myself. Flash. I kept turning a gyrating about hoping the next message would not be seen. So many flashes, like tragic fireworks. In hindsight I think I might have made some guttural noises in my struggle. I assumed when you asked, “What the Hell?” it was a rhetorical question.

Meeting - Jason

The evaluater fiddled with the chairs, trying to make the distance between them precise. He expected his remarks would be under scrutiny but a neat room made him feel better. He was nervous. This was going to be a hard one. Yes, the leader being evaluated was dead and so was unlikely to retaliate, but he had been so loved. His followers, sometimes self identified as an army, might leave their vigil by the white tomb and become violent. Additionally, the power of the man himself was renowned, who knows what curses might be in store at a particular indelicate comment.

The Minister had asked for this evaluation, so she could better select the next Headmaster. While she had loved the evaluatee , she had always suspected that he was not the best man for the job. Yes, he had been a very powerful wizard, but even as a student should could see the error of his ways. So, she had asked 360 Leadership to do a full evaluation of Dumbledore and in just a few minutes she would be here to participate in the deposition.

When Minister Hermione Granger walked into the room she struggled under the weight of a large portrait. The image of Dumbledore wavered trying to keep balance as his chair slid from right to left within the frame. His bearded face went from euphoria to terror, like he was riding a roller coaster. When she got into position, she placed portrait on the arms of one of the office chairs. It make it so a little Dumbledore looked over the edge of the table.

“I am certain this review will be brilliant. Thank you for taking your time.”

“Thank you, Minister Granger, for asking Leadership 360. If you will take a seat.”

The evaluater pointed to one of the chairs, beside the one holding Dumbledore and Hermione gently took her place. The evaluater then slid her a folder, three hole punched with a clear front, Albus Dumbledore, it read on the first page. This was a collection of the findings of the evaluation.

“First, Minister, you will see there are some good traits of the former headmaster.”

“I should say,” said the portrait.

“He was very powerful, powerful enough to wield the Elder Wand, fend off several Death Eaters at the same time, even contend with Voldemort for a time. Over all, it is very good for the students to have such a role-model and protector.”

Both the Minister and Dumbledore smiled at this, perhaps they thought of some triumph.

“Additionally, he was noted to have inspired incredible loyalty. The majority of the students loved him, he lead the Order of the Phoenix, he was able to call on powerful Aurors to teach at a whim, and because of their respect for him he caused people who otherwise would not work together to form a united front. How else do you explain Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Rubeus Hagrid working so closely together? When you select the next Headmaster, he too should inspire this kind of loyalty.

“Now, not everything is so rosy.”

“Really?” questioned little Dumbledore, suddenly straightening.

“Take his hiring and coaching. See, a good leaders first job is to hire the right people, but then, if he has some that don’t exactly fit the mold, he is to coach them into better practices. Under Dumbledore's watch Hogwart’s hired Hagrid, who routinely endangered the lives of the students, who brought dangerous creatures onto school grounds, was found to participate in the illegal dragon trade, to which the headmaster seemed to ignore. He certainly didn't spend anytime counseling the groundskeeper. He also kept on Professor Snape, who took great delight in bullying and belittling the kids, Quirrell who you might remember was possessed by Voldemort, Gilderoy Lockhart, who basically taught a class on his fake life, Trelawny, who 99% of the time had no idea what she was talking about…”

With this Dumbledore started to shout, “Hey, hey, she was perhaps the only living oracle. She spoke the most important prophecy the ministry held. I thought she was a right fine choice for a Divination teacher.”

“She was a little obsessed with the death of Harry.”

“What of Filch? Who seemed to only want to catch the children doing something wrong. Or Binns? Who would drone on and on, not caring if they paid attention. Why would you keep them?”

“Because they were my friends.”

“That is hardly a good enough reason. Not only were his hiring practices poor, but he seemed to have no sense of danger.”

“My students were never in danger.”

“Really, Headmaster, what decision making was it that allowed you to conclude that Voldemort was returning, that he would want the Sorcerer's Stone and the best place that you could keep it would be in the midst of hundreds of students? Did it never occur to you to maybe keep it, and Voldemort correspondingly, far away from children? It would have been better to introduce them to dementors. Oh, that’s right, you did that as well, or at least you let the ministry post them as guards around the grounds. This was even knowing the periodically were not in complete control.”

“They were outside the school. No one was in real danger.”

“You mean like the danger you exposed them to when you placed a giant three headed dog behind a door which was locked so simply that first year students could open it? Or perhaps you mean the danger one is exposed to when you let an underage wizard participate in a tournament which is notoriously dangerous.”

“You’ve gone to badgering the portrait,” said the Minister.

“And I don’t like it one bit.”

“I’m sorry, it is all in the report. A good headmaster, first and foremost is looking after the safety of the students placed in his charge. They should keep the dangers a far distance from them. Not engage in activities which are going to draw dark wizards and work to keep the monsters safely controlled and at a distance.”

“Lastly a the headmaster of Hogwarts needs to be fair, not have the appearance of a arbitrarily doing things, which brings me to the house points system. The could and should be a great system. Gaining points for good things and losing points for bad things. If one student is caught up and it means their house loses 10 points, it should mean that no matter their house. Well, we here at 360 leadership have looked into how that system worked under the watch of Dumbledore and thought you might be interested in the following things. In a year in which the Slytherin house was solidly in the lead the headmaster awarded points for extraordinary actions, which under his watch was not that unusual, but the points given seemed to be a bit arbitrary, you know 50 here, 60 there, until you realized that those last 10 points, given to the Longbottom fellow was just enough to give his favored house the lead.”

“Dumbledore, I never did ask you about why Gryffindor always seemed to win the house cup while I was there. Do you care to comment?”

“10 points to Gryffindor!”

Meetings

Meetings: none of us are as dumb as all of us.

I walk in with dread. I am on time, which means I will be waiting for fifteen minutes for the meeting to start. If there is one thing I am completely sure of in the corporate world it is that meetings only start on time when I am running late; on time or early and I will be waiting.

There is actually another thing I am fairly confident about concerning meetings: meeting titles are intentionally misleading. For instance, a “roundtable” which would indicate a meeting of equals where all input is welcome is typically led by a manager standing at the end of a very not-round table giving a presentation. The "roundtable" should be called the "lecture hall." A “town hall,” which you might think would be predominantly question-and-answer with brass present in the same room with staff is actually a Power Point presentation led by conference call that is so carefully scheduled within the allotted time that there is no room for questions and answers. I call this the "Bejeweled" meeting.

Another thing I have noticed, is that the more dire the information being presented, the more optimistic the presenter. I was in one “town hall” where I listened to four managers of different divisions give a yearly report. The manager whose division had fallen short on every key result objective spent his time talking about exciting opportunities. The manager whose division had met or exceeded all objectives was talking about contracts that they couldn’t close and sounded like they were about to close the doors. It was like the post-game interview where the losing coach is talking about how proud he is of his boys for making some great plays while the winning coach is talking about all the mistakes his team made.

           The most important thing I can tell you about the meetings I attend is this: almost all of them could be handled more efficiently in a reasonably short email. I suppose the idea is employee engagement, not being the big impersonal corporation, but how am I supposed to feel engaged when I am listening to disembodied voices out of a speaker phone explain poorly designed graphs on a projector screen. If possible, this is worse with the regularly scheduled meetings where instead of new data, it is just a constant drumming. “Be safe. Follow procedures. Quality is important.” In these instances, not even an email is necessary; a poster over the urinal would probably be the best way to convey this information.

The meetings I find the most useful, are almost always the shortest. These are typically the ones where there is specific information to be conveyed and only one manager is present. “Here’s what we did last week; here’s what we are doing this week; here’s what’s coming up.” Back to work. Which highlights my biggest problems with meetings: they take away from work productivity. I know, some of you need to coordinate projects and brainstorm and such. I have been in productive meetings where we discuss issues and work to solve problems or discuss particular decisions, but most of the meetings I go to are not that. They are information dumps that I could read on my own schedule while continuing production.

But the people that sign the checks make the decisions. At least there is a chance there will be donuts. Here we go.

"Alright everyone, thanks for coming." It was mandatory.
"Before we get started: what's the most important thing here?" My paycheck?
"That's right; your safety. Now who's job is your safety? Is it the safety committee?" Yes.
"It's your job..."

Ah, we will be doing the thirty seconds of information crammed tightly into an hour routine: the urinal poster meeting. 
And now I have to pee.

Mr. Dodson - Jason

Before the elementary,
A school which shares his name.
Before he tried to retire,
But was brought back four times.
Before the days which brought us here,
To all of us he sang:

     You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
     You make me happy when skies are grey
     You never know, dears, how much I love you
     Please don't take my sunshine away

The other night I lay asleep,
Our school was in my dreams.
My class and I a red ball kicked,
Into the air it sailed.
As principal he stood and watched,
He watched with open arms.

     When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
     So I hung my head, and I cried
     You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
     You make me happy when skies are grey
The storm did not nostalgia take,
He stood with beaming smile.
“With children,” I could hear him say,
“Is where all beauty starts.”
The way he lived with no regret,
He gave his heart to us.

     You never know, dear, how much I love you
     Please don't take my sunshine away

    Please don't take my sunshine away

Mr. Dodson - Justin

For Mr. Dodson, Thank you.

I

I met him thirty some odd years ago;

A white-haired man in short-sleeves and a tie,

Greeting all with warm and loving smile;

To usher us to our first day of school.

I was but a small and frightened child,

He looked at me as if I were his own;

I did not know what a principal was,

But if I had to guess from him alone

I’d say it means grandfather of the school.

He was the one that made it a safe space,

Where some teachers might inspire fear,

I knew that he was there in patient love.

And he could calm a gym of rowdy kids

Just standing and raising up his hand.

It was not fear that caused us to obey;

We quieted obedient to his love.

In my last year under that kind man’s care,

I recall him standing by when we’d go out

To lower the school flag at end of day

And praising us for how we made our folds.

I think that we tried harder for that praise;

To feel that we had earned the kind word said.

Though he praised the effort not result

Still it was better for the words he said.

II

We met again ten or so years ago;

He sat in darkened church on cushioned pew.

I in sound booth for a children’s show,

Seeing his profile I recognized

And struck by decades of forgotten awe.

In twenty years his smile had not dimmed.

Though nervousness cautioned to me to hold back,

He made it safe the moment that I spoke;

Grandfatherly, though standing eye to eye,

And joy and kindness having me received.

Could he recall the small and frightened child?

It mattered not the child remembered him;

And I remember still a decade on

And still hope to learn from him, though gone.

His gentleness and kindness, always love,

Examples that I hope to follow well.

I do not grieve though that his life is passed,

For each of us is given numbered days,

And I was blessed that mine should cross with his,

And blessed again to see his smile once more.

Inadequate, the title principal;

It does not scratch the surface of his worth.

He was one of the best I’ve ever known;

A grandfather and friend to all he knew.