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there are so many steep steps ahead to climb. The top of the corporate pyramid is shrouded in clouds and one can ’t see through them even from this otherwise very desirable office. At times, thunder roars from behind the clouds or an important face emerges in a rare gap. Sometimes it even turns out that the people who live up there have heard about her. It is no longer a thick, completely impenetrable layer of clouds, which is all that the thousands of people in the trenches down there ever get to see. Yet the life above the clouds is still beyond her reach. So it ’s too early to relax. Too early. . .
    A phone ring abruptly ended her thoughts.
    “Joan Porter speaking, ” she said in a neutral tone that could seamlessly switch between dry, interested, mentoring, or excitedly respectful depending on the caller.
    “Oh, hi, Sheldon! How are you? Yes, it ’s a good time. How did it go? Not bad, not bad at all. Stewart, just as I expected, ran into problems managing the conversation so I had to intervene and straighten things out . It ’s over now—th e man is no longer with the company. You were absolutely right ; w e have to be tougher with them. It ’s unacceptable what people like this Hoptorn do. First , they only pretend to work, then they ignore all the feedback we give them , and when we have no choice but to fire them they have the nerve to whine. Come to think of it, I ’ll ask all my managers to involve me as soon as they see the first signs of poor performance. Then it won’t be taking as long to deal with cases like this . Oh, thank you! Thank you, Sheldon. Stop by your office? Right now? Sure. No, it ’s all right. See you in a few.”
    Joan slowly returned the handset to the cradle. Looks like she won ’t be able to go home after all . But if your manager asks you to stop by his office urgently , “For an important matter , ” it is wise to accept the invitation. She took out a pocket mirror, critically explored her face, lightly re touched her lips with lipstick, fixed a ringlet that was out of place and, having straightened her strict business suit, left the office.
     
    Ross
     
    “So,” Ross looked around the room, “we all understand the problem. How do we proceed?”
    They remained silent. They always remained silent. You had to encourage them, cheerlead them, challenge them, question them. Then slowly , one by one , like some sleepy flowers in the morning , they bothered to open their mouths and speak up. “You have to be more proactive!” he kept telling each of them during their one-on-one discussions. “You need to show more initiative, more drive. Don’t forget about the great responsibility you have!” They listened, they nodded in agreement, they smiled. But at the staff meetings they still preferred to remain silent. He had been their manager for nearly six months now, but so far he couldn’t get them out of this permanent state of apathy. They had too much legacy. And , frankly, too much mistrust for him.
    Not that it was his top priority. The work was getting done, at times even with noteworthy efficiency and speed ; all deadlines were being met , and on a couple of occasions even beaten ; problems, at least the visible ones, were taken care of, and all the difficulties that his predecessor used to complain about had somehow vanished . . .
    And Ross knew, knew very well, that this was exactly what mattered to those above him. The numbers, the deadlines, the expenses, the quickly resolved problems. This —and not the sour , dull faces that hung before his eyes now like some old cantaloupes. He didn’t change three groups in two years for nothing.
    The corporation was huge and he had completely mastered the art of profitable position—jumping. Every position he took was noticeably higher than the previous one. Higher and better. And a significant success factor of this art was an ability to ignore the painful details that kept managers who took it too seriously awake at