A Tangled Affair

Oliver was an exemplary octopus. He was the Marine Administrative

Authority's best eight-armed employee.

Management was delighted. Eight arms. Eight arms!

Eight times the productivity of a human employee!

Oliver held responsibilities for Finance, Human Resources, Public

Relations, Operations, Procurement, Records and Staff Welfare.

He was the company's rising star.

Then, his arms became...knotted.

He started filing financial reports under the Public Relations folder. An employee received a disciplinary warning on his birthday, instead of a card.

He stamped the Director's coffee CONFIDENTIAL.

Oliver's poor arms became increasingly knotted as his responsibilities piled on. The management convened an emergency productivity review.

It was a comprehensive review --the first of its kind- of eight-limbed operational performance. And, as expected, his performance had taken a deep dive, in octopus terms.

The director therefore made productivity improvement an immediate concern. "Productivity must be improved without compromising productivity."

The management therefore assigned Oliver a new responsibility--overseeing his own improvement. His task? To produce a detailed productivity report the following morning.

Eight arms. Seven departments. And a spectacular knot.

It was an unprecedented administrative breakthrough. The report required signatures from all seven departments he was involved in. The poor octopus was up to his tentacles in work. He had to approve and get signatures for all his recommendations. His arms became completely matted.

Oliver arrived at the next management meeting with his productivity report. He could barely hold the file because his arms had been so badly entangled. Naturally, presenting it was beyond him.

The befuddled octopus tried to free himself. The unwielding--or attempted and wielding at least-- sent documents, coffee cups and documents flying all over the office.

Delegation had become an absolute necessity. The director assigned Oliver's duties to other staff.

And they soon discovered that Oliver had been suffering what every employee feared-- excessive workload. His share of the work was far greater than anyone had imagined. It overwhelmed them, even after delegation.

The director introduced a revolutionary, but somewhat controversial solution: teamwork.

That was the salve Oliver's arms had been waiting for. His tentacles gradually disentangled as his workload reduced to a manageable number.

His work? Improved, according to the Director's report.

The Director took immediate credit for the enhanced productivity. Then--

The cell phone in his shirt pocket rang.

The one in his trousers back pocket rang.

The one on his desk rang.

He struggled to answer all three-- and his arms became a dead knot.

He stared at the crowd of onlooking employees, sheepish.

"Er... scissors anyone?"

Oliver sat back in his office chair and grinned.

Office satire by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin

For Mikeydred's October Challenge