...that, boss, is why I'm running off 200 copies of the NCAA Men's Hoop Tourney grid at the office printer this morning.
That little drama probably played out thousands of times all over America as office pools got firmed up. Any supervisor worth his or her salt will probably either a) look the other way or b) grab a couple of brackets for themselves.
Companies pay big money to bring in consultants to team-build, when, in fact, they could save themselves a ton of cash just by letting the minions do something simple like NCAA basketball. The truly enlightened ones will allow a t.v. or two in the office Thursday and Friday, too.
What's the big deal? Who gets hurt? Plus, it gives the staff a chance to bond and talk smack, with no one having the edge.
Oh, sure, there'll be the guy with the Cheeto-stained hand who does nothing but watch games, crunch web numbers and compile his own RPI index in his one-room apartment each Saturday night. These usually are folks who don't kiss a whole lot of girls, either, and have rather translucent skin, not unlike wax paper. Don't let these geeks scare you--I've seen people do better in our little office pool using the mascot vs. mascot theory, or choosing winners by color schemes and uniforms (or, as my wife calls them, "costumes").
Even though I think March should be purged from the Gregorian Calendar for weather reasons, this truly is the best time of the year: the melting of snow, the promise of baseball, the return to grill access on my snow-covered deck, and, of course, March Madness.
Bosses, let the kiddies play: this is our pagan holiday, when we hail the men in short pants and dance around the NCAA Maypole, grids in hand, thinking we're all the next Dickie V. And, if a few bucks change hands, so what? Some of that cash could land in your pockets, if you have a clue. Or, if you understand that a Golden Eagle usually kicks a Spartan's ass...or that a Badger has the edge on a Islander any day of the week.
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