Jozef Imrich, name worthy of Kafka, has his finger on the pulse of any irony of interest and shares his findings to keep you in-the-know with the savviest trend setters and infomaniacs.
''I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.''
-Kurt Vonnegut
Rogerson was once a decorated detective in the NSW police force, receiving several bravery awards but became the subject of serious corruption allegations and was ultimately expelled from the force.
“There were transcripts of some of his old cases – District Court, Supreme Court, High Court. There were old handwritten notes about his career and the criminals he’d arrested and an immaculately typed six-page 1984 application for promotion to Sergeant First Class, detailing his many attributes and citations for good police work.”
Under the sub-heading “Leadership” he wrote: “I contend that I have no deficiency in this regard. I have been assessed by numerous senior officers as ‘outstanding’ in regard to leadership.”
He was found to have $110,000 in bank accounts in false names. A bank teller who counted the cash remembered it being cold, like it had been in the fridge.
Rogerson said it was all above board, insisting much of the money had come from the sale of a Bentley motor vehicle he’d been restoring. It was bullshit.
Charged with perverting the course of justice over the $110,000 he was convicted, but it was overturned by the NSW Court of Criminal Appeal. It went to the High Court which ruled against Rogerson.
Every member of the Opposition who was in this Parliament in May 1994 voted against the establishment of the police royal commission and engaged in a campaign of vilification against the former Independent member for South Coast, John Hatton, who moved the motion—which I am proud to have backed with the support of my Labor colleagues. John Fahey, one of the previous leaders of the Liberal Party of New South Wales—all those other distinguished Liberals such as Robin Askin, whose strong position on police corruption—
The Police Integrity Commission investigated him over his alleged bribery of a Liverpool Council employee.
Rogerson denied knowing anything about it, only to be caught out on a listening device discussing how the bloke was known as Mr 10 per cent. He was bang to rights for perjury, although it took until 2005 for the case to reach the court. He pleaded guilty. ..
“I didn’t like him. But he was a product of his environment. He was encouraged to do many of the things he did by the hierarchy.”
… It never ceases to surprise me how many shady characters manage to befriend powerful decision makers and executives … and share intimate and doggy social lunches and dinners at exclusive joints …
Most of us disapprove of wily work machinations, but experts say ignoring power structures will hold you back
If there is one thing most people seem to hate more than politics, it’s office politics. Back-stabbing, conniving, sucking up and kicking down: being on career-enhancing manoeuvres makes people a target of derision among colleagues. This is often laced with envy if their machinations produce results.
As the Divine Comedy put it in their 2019 song Office Politics: “Press the flesh, do the deal/ Book your place on the hamster wheel.”
Don’t disapprove of people you see engaged in self-promoting stratagems, learn from them. Dionne Gain
But in recent weeks, I’ve had a rethink, after being embroiled in holiday-period, mid-life job chat with friends and contemporaries. Many feel stymied, overlooked or are bored and miserable in roles they have outgrown.
As with so much in life, when you reach the end of what the Americans (wonderfully) call the “pity party”, you need some constructive advice. Sometimes empathy is good. But sometimes it’s better to have a more bracing perspective.
One shocking set of potential solutions (which I share in a spirit of passing on this useful jolt) came from consulting the most recent book by go-to theorist of office politics, Jeffrey Pfeffer, professor of organisational behaviour at Stanford.
In The 7 Rules of Power he warns that “people opt out of the quest for power” often because they see bad people seeking it or using it for ill. But they become victims of this decision, missing out on the benefits of playing the game.
“A comprehensive meta-analysis of the effects of political skill [at work] found it was positively related to job satisfaction, work productivity, career success and personal reputation, and negatively related to physiological strain.”
In other words, the consequences of holding back from the fray could be feeling unrecognised and unhappy, watching both your output and health decline – yikes.
Professor Pfeffer is not one to sugar-coat his messages. He has spent a lifetime getting his disciples, at Stanford and elsewhere, to accept what he calls the brutal realities: playing politics is fundamental to getting anywhere at work. Interestingly, resistance to this message is widespread – people prefer what he deems the soothing idea that the light of great work will shine, even under a bushel.
The Pfeffer method is probably most suitable to corporate life. But there are tips for anyone seeking a route up, or out of an unfulfilling rut. They include making yourself and your achievements as visible as possible, projecting confidence and authority, and making sure you network, network, network: you have to become an invaluable conduit and contact.
His first piece of advice, however, is to face up to the fact that this stuff is vital: you need to, in his words, “get out of your own way”. Don’t disapprove of people you see engaged in self-promoting stratagems, learn from them. And if your identity depends on belief in, as Pfeffer satirically puts it, “a just world and the ultimate triumph of merit”, you are in danger of sacrificing what you want from your working life.
Don’t get me wrong. Unlike many others, actual democratic politics has been a life-long obsession and delight to me, but I am not totally sold on the Pfeffer method of mastering the work-based variety.
Do not expect a memoir entitled: How I stopped worrying and learned to love office politics. While Pfeffer argues you can’t fight “the behavioural realities of power”, straying too far from your core values will make you feel dreadful. But I am convinced by one thing: hiding from the trade-offs you are already making will send you straight back to that pity party.
Some prefer – and are better suited to – ploughing their own furrows. It certainly seems a better use of energy than a preoccupation with internal status games. But Pfeffer would probably think this is culpably naive: I suppose it’s your own fault if you haven’t learnt how to at least play the system in order to be left alone to plough that furrow. And by the way, you do need appropriate recognition and reward. Very few can eat or shelter under their ideals.
Here’s his warning to the mid-life cohort: “The ability to do power becomes more important as your career advances.” If “at a certain level everybody is smart”, you need other ways to make your mark.
And having to negotiate between your own and other people’s agendas is just part of adult life. This year, it may be time to act strategically to try and secure your place – if not on the hamster wheel, then at least somewhere you won’t complain about.
