Many years ago I had the distinct pleasure to work for one of the greatest curmudgeons of all time, the late Jake Jacobs. To call him a mere cynic would be a disservice, since he had a terrific sense of humor that put just the right amount of bite on it. He used to talk about our more prominent political figures, when they were trying to deal with even the simplest legislative matters and the outcomes of their dubious labors, as those three left handed monkeys.
Jake Jacobs came to mind when I received an e-mail a while back from someone who'd read my October piece on Intellectual Property, which included some references to the Economic Espionage Act of 1996. To use Dave Barry’s phrase, "Alert Reader" Phillip F. Smith Phillip, CPP, a security consultant at the UCLA School of Public Health, responded to the article with some truly trenchant observations.
He wrote about how incompatible our laws are sometimes. How they bang head on into each other and just simply confuse life as we know it. His example is a classic of such conflicts in laws. He wrote, "What I don't understand is that corporate America has to comply with the Fair Credit Reporting Act which conflicts with the FBI cases under EEA! For example, an employee of a company is selling data to a competitor overseas. The company complies with FCRA and notifies the employee of the internal investigation (to fire his ass); However, in so doing, it blew the FBI case because the FBI did not notify anyone within the company that they were also investigating the employee (to arrest his ass). It is no wonder why corporate America keeps everything ‘In house.’ "
That got me to thinking about some of the curious things that happen in cities and towns across the country, as local politicos try to out-monkey the national solons.
One of the most intriguing was the split-frame image of two recent parking lot incidents.
While on a trip to another city, I was walking from my car about four rows from the entrance to a store when I saw a car pull up and park in the fire lane almost directly in front of the Special Police Officer. The driver had to know where he was parking if for no other reason than the jangling of the lighted curb feelers that were part of the pimp-option package on his car. I was curious about how the SPO would handle the parking infraction. The 20-Something driver got out and strutted past the officer, his wide brimmed Panama with a cockatoo feather a close match for his violet, felt suit.
Now I don’t know whether it was the hat, the feather, the suit or the curb feelers that did it, but something made the guy and his car invisible. No comments from the SPO at all, as the driver/parker walked in, grabbed a shopping cart and started filling it as he went up and down the aisles. While in the checkout line a few minutes later, I saw that the SPO had moved on, while the car remained. I got outside and saw where he’d gone.
He was standing next to an elderly lady with a walker and an air cannister to assist her clearly labored breathing. He was holding on to her walker, and I thought that he was doing a pretty good deed. Until I heard what she was rasping to him. "Let go of my walker. I have to go home!" He loudly informed her that he was going to hold her there until the police arrived to give her a ticket for parking in a handicapped spot without a special tag on her car. And indeed, in just a few moments, the patrol car actually arrived.
She tried to explain to the patrolman and the SPO that her car was in the shop and she was using a neighbor’s car to get some much needed groceries. No mercy. Writing the $75 ticket occupied the patrolman’s entire attention -- so much that he completely missed the parade of purple come out of the store, load six bags of groceries into the car in the fire lane, and leave the cart in the fire lane as he drove off. The SPO was completely oblivious as well, even though they were no more than twenty feet away.
Ever curious about such things, I couldn’t resist asking the patrolman why he’d cited a little old lady and not the other guy. Since both parkers were of the same race, was it perhaps ageism? His reply was a classic. The city council and the mayor, it seemed, had come down hard with a zero-tolerance policy on parking in a handicapped spot without a permit. Did that mean plenty of tolerance for fire lane parking? Yeah, that was important, but he wasn’t responding to a call about that -- and besides there wasn’t much emphasis from the council about it.
I noodled over that a couple of times in the following days and then got home to Sweet Home Alabama, where common sense is usually superior to correctness. It was in the parking lot of our local food store -- part of a regional chain -- that I got intrigued again by something perpetrated by a well-meaning corporate actor.
The sixteen handicapped parking spaces were all empty, as usual. And, next to each of the four sets of H spaces, was another space with a pole and sign. The sign had a Mother Goose painting on it, and the words, Reserved for Our Expectant Mothers. All four of them were empty as well. And, just like the H parking spots, they remain empty most of the time, even on busy shopping days.
In my mind’s eye, I can see a day in the not too distant future where there will be separately designated parking spots for all manner of other special categories -- The Terminally Stupid, Ethnic Flavor of the Month, Persecuted Religion of the Month, Most Oppressed Recent Immigrant Population and Large, Ugly Dog Fanciers (which, in the interest of economy, could actually serve two different groups). Pretty soon, there’ll be one parking space on row 62, without any signs. Everyone will ignore it, because that’ll be the one reserved for the "Regular Customers." The only question I have is whether or not I’ll get a ticket for parking in that space with my DAV plates.
Maybe it’s time for some curmudgeonly type -- male or female, young or old -- to exercise some of his or her wisdom and common sense. Point out to a leadership that’s run amok, in its quest for political correctness -- which means always having to say you’re sorry -- that it might be time to take a breath and get a grip. And not just in parking lots, but all over the enterprise.
If you have to, get a big plume for your hat. It’ll give you special powers.
About the author: John A. Nolan, III CPP, OCP is Chairman and Managing Director of Phoenix Consulting Group, which provides competitive intelligence, counterintelligence and professional development/training programs across a variety of industries. He is also a co-founder of The Centre for Operational Business Intelligence in Sarasota, FL where corporate intelligence practitioners from around the country and the world learn the tools and techniques necessary to prevail in the marketplace. His newest book, “CONFIDENTIAL”:Uncover Your Competitor's Top Secrets Legally and Quickly - And Protect Your Own was released by HarperCollins Business Books in June 1999. He is frequently featured in national and international media such as Forbes, George, Times of London and CNN, to name just a few. He can be reached at jnolan@intellpros.com, or at 1.800.440.1724.
