Office Talk: "Fire Drill"

OK, in our last post on Office Talk, I discussed one of several cliches inspired by the firefighting profession (though, as far as I can tell, America's Bravest are in no way to blame). This week's entry -- fire drill -- belongs to the same category, but it feels a lot closer in character to out of pocket, the second entry in the series. With each of these phrases, many intelligent office people have been provoked to ask, "what the hell is [the office worker] really saying?"

When an office worker cancels a scheduled appointment because of a fire drill, what he is consciously attempting to communicate is a state of emergency, crisis, i.e., a metaphorical fire in the office that, understandbly, requires his full attention. The phrase is almost identical to the more honest there's a fire I need to put out, were it not for the obvious fact -- though rarely obvious to the speaker -- that a true fire drill never involves an actual fire, but rather a rehearsal of the steps that an entire organization must take to prepare for an actual fire. What's going on here -- I recently asked my alter ago -- and is there something in the unconscious that I can divine?

I recently had the pleasure -- nay displeasure -- of experiencing an actual firedrill. It was in the middle of a parent/teacher conference at my son's pre-school, and I was reminded, in great detail, of the group ritual I was forced to practice throughout my entire lower-school education. The orderly and laborious filing out of the classroom. The trek through the schoolground, toward a common area. The stentorian/smug/satisfied people in charge. And, of course, the look on the faces of other students who were quite happy about this unexpected interruption in their day. That last memory was the Eureka moment for me, because I was then reminded of the feeling I had during so many fire drills in my youth, impatiently waiting for the whistle to blow that would allow us to go back to our desks. The feeling, tinged with guilt, was that fire drills were a waste of time, even though I knew that they really weren't. What my heart was rebelling against was the process of the fire drill (and, of course, the smug faces of the people in charge), a process that would have been ridiculous were it not for the seriousness of the event for which we were preparing.

I suspect that I was not the only kid who was confused by this mix of competing feelings. When an office worker breaks an appointment because of a fire drill, he may be consciously telling you about a crisis. But he also may be telling you -- unconsciously -- what he really thinks about the so-called crisis. Notice how often fire drills are caused by other people, and not the person who cancels meetings because of them. I have a hunch that the meeting-breakers are being channeled back to the playground, fidgeting in the shadows of the monitors -- think incompetent bosses, co-workers, and other trouble-makers -- who decide what happens and when.

NEXT WEEK ON OFFICE TALK: "ROCK STARS"

Comments

[Keane]

And in the event of a nuclear catastrophe, we simply need hide under our desks :-)

They told us it would save us!