Step #3

How to handle the repercussions of a vicious panda attack with managerial finesse

It was me who called 911 because I came across Tina first. I’m not trying to suggest that I was going above and beyond my duty to proactively manage Unexpected Events, I’m just saying I applied due diligence to events as dictated by my managerial training. I was first on the scene, ergo I almost immediately summoned help. Also relevant was the fact that I was the On-Site Chief in Command (OSCiC per the Manual) at the Zoo that day, so Bob, the Assistant to the On-Site Chief in Command (AOSCiC) was not entirely culpable even though he was Tina’s direct supervisor and responsible for teaching her all of the Safety Precautions in the Manual (SP 1.1-5.3). We all know Bob is not top managerial material. Barb says so every time she sees him.

Also, Bob wasn’t really responsible (though perhaps if it came to litigation?) because he was napping on and off all morning and therefore in a mental fog. Furthermore, I knew for a fact, based on the sweet reek of Southern Comfort which trailed him from habitat to habitat, that he was nipping the dog’s hair from last night’s doozer at Handsome Gertie’s over on the State Route. Definitely inebriated, therefore you couldn’t really expect him, in a fiduciary sense, to be keeping a close eye on Tina. Even though this was only her third week on the job. Tina was the new Associate Vet Tech. She seemed a likeable enough young woman, with zero corporate veneer, which I especially appreciated. Really enthusiastic about feeding the animals, though I couldn’t foresee just how enthusiastic until the current Unexpected Event. I had had high hopes for her mid-level management future, but I guess that was not to be. It was Friday so, as noted, I was the OSCiC. Barb always makes me do Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Which is fine. She’s the boss, and according to the Operations Manual, has complete latitude for staffing. I’m a Paul-the-problem-solver, not a Mike-the-moaner.

So I was the OSCiC that day and I also happened to come across Tina first, lying more immobile than you’d expect unless this was an Unexpected Event, on the ground in Mei’s enclosure in “The Wonderful World of Pandas.” I saw her lying next to the water trough in what I immediately identified as a very unnatural position for a body. There was quite a lot of blood, more blood than I would typically expect from an Unexpected Event, which was soaking into the ground where her arm had come unattached. Also her head was facing backwards, owl-style and her eyes were open with the pupils basically fixed and dilated, which I had checked to make sure she was dead.

Mei was chewing bamboo as always. She looked pretty calm but I wasn’t taking any chances. You just can’t ever say what Mei is thinking, but I’m guessing it was along the lines of “one of you zoo-keeps come clean up this mess before it attracts flies.” Following the OSCiC Operations Manual, which I can recite backwards and forwards, I further assessed the situation and went through the Problem Solving Steps (PSS #1-5) as outlined in the Addendum to the Operations Manual “which” (per Barb) “better not ever ever be shared, or you’re going to end up in the gator pond at Oh-Feeding-Time Thirty”

PSS #1: “Make sure visitors are exempt from the trauma of unnatural death vistas.” I cordoned off the path to Mei’s Panda World. I put a check next to PSS #1 and moved on to PSS #2.

PSS #2: “Escort all visitors to the gate and close the zoo.” All visitors (just one loud couple from Wisconsin with their four sunburned towheads holding melting popsicles) escorted to the gate. I placed another check mark.

PSS #3: “Create a reasonable explanation for the Unexpected Event that deposits responsibility on the deceased, if there is/are deceased and no witnesses.” I’d have to put that one in the parking lot. Circle back around to it. Put a pin in it, as Barb finds occasion to say when someone raises the topic of Unexpected Events at pretty much every meeting of the Apalachicola Zoo Board of Directors (Barb and her husband Steve and her nephew Randy and Randy’s wife Maggie) which I know because Randy is always making fun of how corporate Barb is at the meetings.

PSS #4: “If there is only grave bodily injury rather than death, and the injured party is likely to be able to give a statement, call Barb and say “Code Miami International.” Not to worry, I told myself. Tina was definitely deceased, so I was able to place a check mark on PSS # 4.

PSS #5: “Call 911.”

I reviewed all the Steps, #s 1-5 in my head, and like always, Step #3 was the thorniest. Really calling out for managerial virtuosity. If I was able to pull this off? Well, Barb had better put Randy on notice that the COO chair (an actual Herman Miller, not a cheap Office Depot knockoff) was in play. This situation was pretty uncommon so, despite all the practice rehearsals, I found myself getting a little nervous in my desire to complete Step #3 in a way that would reflect well on my Managerial Aptitude l. I reminded myself that tragedy was just the other face of comedy (and was it really a tragedy if the deceased didn’t have kids? Tina never mentioned any crumbsnatchers.) This was just a change in the status quo. I remembered Barb writing on the DryErase “Delta SQ+Leveraged Initiative = Upward Career Mobility” at one of the monthly management retreats that OSCiC’s are required to attend in the backroom at Handsome G’s.

As we all knew, Mei was the big attraction at The Apalachicola Zoo. Who knows how our zoo was able to snag such a rare and important animal. Barb said something about a cousin in the exotic animal business but then said “He’s also got his own private army so let’s just leave that topic alone and take care of the zoo shall we?”

“All the Animals From A to Z. Come See Mei the Giant Panda Bear!” said a smiling cartoon Anteater and Zebra in a dialog bubble on our sign at the exit off US 98. That claim was a little aspirational, which Randy told me Barb acknowledged when she had the sign put up, saying “You gotta fake it ‘til you make it.” Barb was going to be mighty steamed if I didn’t come up with a solution to the problem of Mei potentially getting nailed for the Tina dismemberment and owl-head panorama. I considered Bob again. Sometimes, particularly when a week would go by that Bob didn’t clean a single enclosure, I would wonder why Barb hadn’t asked Bob for his resignation, but then a situation like this would arise and I would think how Bob must be a part of Barb’s secondary insurance plan. Would it stick if I said Bob blacked out and tore off Tina’s arm and then spun her head around on her neck? No, after some consideration, it would not stick. Bob, despite his impressive position as the AOSCiC, was too old and spindly to tear off Tina’s arm. He was so skinny that the end of his belt was always hanging down at least a foot from his belt buckle. It was a hazard and not at all compliant with the Dress and Comportment section of the Manual. He really needed to work on his Safety Attitude as well as his Professional Appearance. I was always concerned that one of the carnivores might get ahold of Bob by the end of his belt, making me, as his Direct Report, responsible for an Unexpected Event. I sat down to think. In my mind, Barb, dressed in her standard black summer-weight wool suit and silk scarf printed with a map of the New York City Subway System, was standing over me giving me one of her withering glares and saying, “Be that Paul-the-Problem-Solver I’m paying for!”

And then, just like that, I had the solution to PSS #3! I was so excited I jumped up and pumped my fist in the air “Yesss!”, then involuntarily looked around and straightened my second-hand Yves St Laurent tie. The answer was right next door in Phil the Giant Japanese Salamander’s habitat. As per Mei’s unspoken wishes, I picked up Tina and her arm and put her in a feed barrow and bounced her on over to Phil’s enclosure. Trying to replicate Tina’s original posture as closely as possible so as to maintain forensic verisimilitude, I tipped her out of the barrow and arranged her limbs, the three attached ones first. Then I picked up Tina’s severed arm, and for further verisimilitude, I tried to shove it into Phil’s mouth. Phil was being quite stubborn though. He wouldn’t open his mouth enough for me to get more than Tina’s fingers inside. I took Tina’s arm and I started waving it the way I usually wave fish in front of Phil’s mouth at feeding time and I felt a moment of real pride in my ingenuity because this worked like a charm. Phil bit down hard on Tina’s wrist. But then, reality check. Guess I’m not always such a brilliant problem solver because Phil’s teeth are about as big and sharp as beach sand. He wasn’t getting much traction on her arm, so I figured I’d help him. I grabbed the other end of Tina’s arm and I gave it a good shove down Phil’s throat. That turned out to be a poor tactical decision, because Phil started jerking violently, thrashing around in a way I’d never witnessed before, and then a significant amount of blood started pouring out of his mouth. It was a real gusher, several pints of which ended up on my (previously) pink (now) crimson Oxford Brooks Brothers shirt, the cuffs of which were monogrammed with the previous owner’s initials. Fortunately the volume of blood was so great that the crimson was uniform, and I would be able to pair it with my tan khakis, after a good washing and pressing.

If you thought my description of Tina’s arm sounded gory before, it looked 10 times worse now. While I would be able to salvage the Brooks Brothers shirt, my YSL tie was a total loss. I wonder if Barb would mind if I charged the cost of a new YSL tie to the Incidentals Budget. If Barb wanted me to keep managing Unexpected Events like this, I was going to need a clothing allowance and also the COO promotion she kept waving under my nose like a piece of Phil’s fish. It was turning out to be another one of those difficult scenarios that Barb hates.Then Phil’s cantankerous writhings eased up and stopped altogether. Crap! Two dead bodies. Barb’s going to pitch a real wobbler. I can probably forget about a Clothing Allowance. Though, when I thought about it, Phil’s exsanguination might not be such a big deal. Phil wasn’t much of an attraction. Most people just looked at him for a second, said “Whoa. Big guy.” and then went over to Mei’s enclosure.

The phantom Barb in my head started dressing me down. “You are such a friggin’ idiot Jerry! A regular liability! If you don’t mind just executing PSS #3? Like I’m paying you for? Or you might as well hand in your resignation right now ‘cause there won’t be any C-suite for you at this organization, and you can put that one in the bank and hang your hat on it mister!” I tried hard to think out of the box. Engage in some disruptive thinking. Granularly address the issue at hand. Do a deep dive into process improvement and help innovate our way towards blue-chip zoological success. I came up with a scenario which, I think, speaks to my commendable managerial skills.

As I saw it, what must have happened was this. Tina must have gone to feed Phil but must have been drunk as a skunk because I’d seen her sharing Bob’s Southern Comfort, and, as a result, not practicing situational awareness. So Phil must have got ahold of Tina’s arm while attempting to get the fish out of her hand. Then she must have panicked and used one of her Aikido moves. (Though only on our management team for 3 weeks, Tina was always finding a way to bring up how she had a green belt in Aikido.) Verrry impressive Tina! Maybe you shouldn’t have brought martial arts to a gunfight with a giant lizard? Maybe next time you’ll think about accepting my gracious invitation to accompany me to the shooting range. You gotta bring a gun to a gunfight even if your adversary is just a big toothless lizard like Phil. But I clamped down on that thought because I was beginning to feel the tiniest bit guilty about the benign Phil being my patsy.

In retrospect I think Tina must have thought martial arts might suggest decisive managerial potential to Barb, which I admit was a pretty good move on her part. Maybe I underestimated her. In any case, employing an Aikido move, she no doubt shoved her arm deeper into Phil’s mouth in order to get him to loosen his jaws. But she must have shoved her arm in so deep that it punctured Phil’s insides causing him to bleed to death. A case of fulminant exsanguination of a rare Giant Japanese Salamander. A tragedy. Right here in the Apalachicola Zoo. “Really quite remarkable” I’d say in my crimson Brooks Brothers when the authorities arrived. In his writhing agony, Phil bit down with all his brutal giant amphibian strength, making up for his nubby teeth and severing Tina’s arm at the shoulder. Tina then must have freaked out, as anyone would, even someone who, contrary to Zoo policy, was very intoxicated, at the sight of her arm sticking out of Phil’s dead mouth. Being inebriated, she slipped on some of her and/or Phil’s blood and fell, breaking her neck, explaining the owl-head thing. It was not a definitely impossible scenario. It’s common knowledge to many, including Bobby, the Franklin County Sheriff, that truth can be stranger than fiction. Barb has certainly uttered that old chestnut to Bobby on more than one occasion after previous Unexpected Events. I wonder if sheriff Bobby is one of Barb’s cousins too? The phantom Barb in my head looked pleased and said “Ok now. I like the can-do. This is some innovative problem solving I’m seeing here, Jer. Good for you! You might just have a bright executive future with this organization after all!” So, skipping PSS #4 as there were no witnesses, I moved on to Step #5 and dialed 911. Despite my ruined tie, this day was turning out okay after all. Tomorrow I expected to be sitting in that Herman Miller chair with Barb smiling at me and saying to the Board “I think Jer here has a bright executive future. Welcome to the Board!”