In search of lost efficiency
All names are saved, all matches have malice.
Bond looked up from the monitor, leaned back in his chair and stretched. The bells snapped loudly, and the chair creaked plaintively in response. Agent 007 frowned, and once again thought that it was time for him to rest. Everyone in this office has long been retiring. Even the chair.
M. entered the room.
')
- Let's go into a chat, James. And do not forget your report, - in the voice of M there were notes of doom.
- Well, maybe it to hell? - asked Bond. - I got this damn suitcase with a nuclear button. The world is saved!
M made a sour face.
- You shot the finger of the Chinese psychopath at the moment when he launched rockets in the direction of London! Still half a second, and ... - M did not finish, and in the hearts waved his hand. - Let's go already.
Bond ran his hand over his face. He remembered every scar: this one remained after a meeting with a genetically modified Soviet super-soldier; This blonde gave him a bosom blonde when she tried to cut his throat on the order of the Mexican drug cartel; that he got when he jumped out of a train traveling at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour. And now he has to go to the sweltering negotiation room, in which effective managers hired to optimize the performance of the Mi-7 will look for where the organization’s past effectiveness has gone.
There were seven people in the meeting room. They carefully looked at the big screen, on which some multicolored graph whirled. Bond winced, and thought that now it would be nice to slap vodka with martini. And even damn it with this agitation. And if there was a good cigar and a beautiful girl in a bikini ... However, an unpleasant voice interrupted the thoughts of 007.
- Hello colleagues! - with a fake enthusiasm exclaimed a short man wearing a pink shirt and a striped suit. - How nice that you joined us! We are just trying to understand where our efficiency has gone!
Damn managers, Bond thought. "Efficiency. What is this thing? Here is, for example, a gun. From it you can plant a bullet in the head ", - he imagined how he gets his" Beretta ", and a second later the contents of the skull of an unpleasant subject in a striped suit flies along the wall. “Or here’s a knife,” Bond presented an equally colorful picture with the subject in the lead role. “But what the hell is that efficiency?”
The striped speaker, meanwhile, continued:
- We analyzed your latest missions, 007, and concluded that our organization began to work inefficiently!
- Mm? - raised a brow Bond.
- Look, everything is on this chart. Here you had to eliminate the dictator in a small African country. Well, what could be easier? Came, killed, left. But you turned this mission into a real circus! Three ruined palaces! Hundreds of spent cartridges purchased, please note, on taxpayer money! Six - I repeat! - six people whom you took for dictator before you get to the present! What do you say in your defense?
- Took a dictator? - quietly asked Bond. - It looks like you have inaccurate information. Let me tell you how it really was. Analysts from department P give me a tip on the person you want to kill. I come and kill him. But before I leave, I get a call from analysts who tell me that they have misunderstood the customer, and it’s not the dictator who needs to be killed, but his mother-in-law, who, in fact, is in charge of everything. I kill mother-in-law. When I try to raise my plane into the air under the squall fire of the palace guards, they call me again from department P and say that my mother-in-law was only a cover for my brother's second cousin, who is a real villain, Bond took an expressive pause. - Do you understand what I am talking about?
- I understand that you, Mr. Bond, want to shift your mistake to those people who are not at our meeting. In my opinion, real team players don't do that. We are all in the same boat!
Bond presented another picture in which he was left alone with a striped subject in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
- Well, let's take your last mission. You needed to return the briefcase that the Chinese terrorists stole from the American president. How responsibly did you react to the task on which the fate of humanity depended? You miraculously prevented the launch of rockets! What do you say to that?
- But I'll tell you what it is, - Bond leaned forward and put his hands on the table. “These damn Chinese are in the underground catacombs.” The architectural department has prepared for me a plan of these catacombs and - Ha-ha! - the best way to the main room. Only now he was not the damn thing optimal! While I was getting to the briefcase, I had to rally these damned catacombs up and down, killing two hundred Chinese. And you know what? Cartridges purchased by taxpayers, ended already in the fifth dozen! - an unhealthy light caught fire in Bond's eyes. - And to tell you how I overcame an underground lake with the help of a pair of socks, a penknife and a gum package?
- Thank you, Mr. Bond, but I see that you are again trying to shove your problems onto other people's shoulders. When I came here to work, they told me that you were a professional. But now I see that you are not such a good specialist as you want to appear - the striped subject grinned triumphantly. - Maybe the problem is that you have difficulty in communication? Admit it, because you find it difficult to communicate with other people?
- Communicate? By no means. Right now, I will communicate to you a fairly simple thing, - Bond took out a piece of paper, which he printed out before the meeting. - Here, take it.
- What is it? Statement ... of dismissal? Are you kidding, 007? Where will you go with your ... GHM ... Abilities?
“Everything is fine with my abilities,” answered Bond. - I worked as a programmer for half a year during one of the missions. Now I’ll quit, in a week I’ll draw up MVC and JavaScript, and go to work in a big promising company. So, Adios, Muchachos.
Bond rose from his chair, threw a fairly battered jacket over his shoulder, and left the negotiation room. The last time he went through the corridors of the building, which had been his home for so many years. Leaving the true "Beretta" at the exit, he got into the Aston Martin, who had seen the views, from which he had already removed all the special equipment, and drove home. He was waiting for a new day and a new job, in which no one would look for lost efficiency. He really wanted to believe it.
Bond looked up from the monitor, leaned back in his chair and stretched. The bells snapped loudly, and the chair creaked plaintively in response. Agent 007 frowned, and once again thought that it was time for him to rest. Everyone in this office has long been retiring. Even the chair.
M. entered the room.
')
- Let's go into a chat, James. And do not forget your report, - in the voice of M there were notes of doom.
- Well, maybe it to hell? - asked Bond. - I got this damn suitcase with a nuclear button. The world is saved!
M made a sour face.
- You shot the finger of the Chinese psychopath at the moment when he launched rockets in the direction of London! Still half a second, and ... - M did not finish, and in the hearts waved his hand. - Let's go already.
Bond ran his hand over his face. He remembered every scar: this one remained after a meeting with a genetically modified Soviet super-soldier; This blonde gave him a bosom blonde when she tried to cut his throat on the order of the Mexican drug cartel; that he got when he jumped out of a train traveling at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour. And now he has to go to the sweltering negotiation room, in which effective managers hired to optimize the performance of the Mi-7 will look for where the organization’s past effectiveness has gone.
There were seven people in the meeting room. They carefully looked at the big screen, on which some multicolored graph whirled. Bond winced, and thought that now it would be nice to slap vodka with martini. And even damn it with this agitation. And if there was a good cigar and a beautiful girl in a bikini ... However, an unpleasant voice interrupted the thoughts of 007.
- Hello colleagues! - with a fake enthusiasm exclaimed a short man wearing a pink shirt and a striped suit. - How nice that you joined us! We are just trying to understand where our efficiency has gone!
Damn managers, Bond thought. "Efficiency. What is this thing? Here is, for example, a gun. From it you can plant a bullet in the head ", - he imagined how he gets his" Beretta ", and a second later the contents of the skull of an unpleasant subject in a striped suit flies along the wall. “Or here’s a knife,” Bond presented an equally colorful picture with the subject in the lead role. “But what the hell is that efficiency?”
The striped speaker, meanwhile, continued:
- We analyzed your latest missions, 007, and concluded that our organization began to work inefficiently!
- Mm? - raised a brow Bond.
- Look, everything is on this chart. Here you had to eliminate the dictator in a small African country. Well, what could be easier? Came, killed, left. But you turned this mission into a real circus! Three ruined palaces! Hundreds of spent cartridges purchased, please note, on taxpayer money! Six - I repeat! - six people whom you took for dictator before you get to the present! What do you say in your defense?
- Took a dictator? - quietly asked Bond. - It looks like you have inaccurate information. Let me tell you how it really was. Analysts from department P give me a tip on the person you want to kill. I come and kill him. But before I leave, I get a call from analysts who tell me that they have misunderstood the customer, and it’s not the dictator who needs to be killed, but his mother-in-law, who, in fact, is in charge of everything. I kill mother-in-law. When I try to raise my plane into the air under the squall fire of the palace guards, they call me again from department P and say that my mother-in-law was only a cover for my brother's second cousin, who is a real villain, Bond took an expressive pause. - Do you understand what I am talking about?
- I understand that you, Mr. Bond, want to shift your mistake to those people who are not at our meeting. In my opinion, real team players don't do that. We are all in the same boat!
Bond presented another picture in which he was left alone with a striped subject in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
- Well, let's take your last mission. You needed to return the briefcase that the Chinese terrorists stole from the American president. How responsibly did you react to the task on which the fate of humanity depended? You miraculously prevented the launch of rockets! What do you say to that?
- But I'll tell you what it is, - Bond leaned forward and put his hands on the table. “These damn Chinese are in the underground catacombs.” The architectural department has prepared for me a plan of these catacombs and - Ha-ha! - the best way to the main room. Only now he was not the damn thing optimal! While I was getting to the briefcase, I had to rally these damned catacombs up and down, killing two hundred Chinese. And you know what? Cartridges purchased by taxpayers, ended already in the fifth dozen! - an unhealthy light caught fire in Bond's eyes. - And to tell you how I overcame an underground lake with the help of a pair of socks, a penknife and a gum package?
- Thank you, Mr. Bond, but I see that you are again trying to shove your problems onto other people's shoulders. When I came here to work, they told me that you were a professional. But now I see that you are not such a good specialist as you want to appear - the striped subject grinned triumphantly. - Maybe the problem is that you have difficulty in communication? Admit it, because you find it difficult to communicate with other people?
- Communicate? By no means. Right now, I will communicate to you a fairly simple thing, - Bond took out a piece of paper, which he printed out before the meeting. - Here, take it.
- What is it? Statement ... of dismissal? Are you kidding, 007? Where will you go with your ... GHM ... Abilities?
“Everything is fine with my abilities,” answered Bond. - I worked as a programmer for half a year during one of the missions. Now I’ll quit, in a week I’ll draw up MVC and JavaScript, and go to work in a big promising company. So, Adios, Muchachos.
Bond rose from his chair, threw a fairly battered jacket over his shoulder, and left the negotiation room. The last time he went through the corridors of the building, which had been his home for so many years. Leaving the true "Beretta" at the exit, he got into the Aston Martin, who had seen the views, from which he had already removed all the special equipment, and drove home. He was waiting for a new day and a new job, in which no one would look for lost efficiency. He really wanted to believe it.
Source: https://habr.com/ru/post/204132/
All Articles