This Circus Is Always on Fire!
Sure Wish We Knew Where Those Buckets Are.
Once upon a time, there was a traveling circus, and it had been on fire for as long as anyone could remember. Of course, it wasn’t a dramatic kind of fire. No five-alarm blazes had ever decimated the towns the circus would pass through, or anything.
Except, some people whispered …
There was that one town …
Wasn’t there?
Still, there were almost never raging flames whose white-hot edges tore through the sky above the villagers as they screamed and scrambled to get out of harm’s reach. It seemed like most circus goers felt that was a good thing. After all … A fire like that? It would have required alarm bells, evacuation routes, maybe even a bucket? And, come to think of it — Just where were all the buckets?
Not a bucket in sight. Whew!
Good thing it’s harmless,
This circus fire of ours.
It’s merely a little smoke, wafting from behind the lion cages. It’s barely that little flame, igniting as it always seems to, underneath the costume wagon whose right rear wheel keeps coming off its axle. It’s mostly only that suspicious orange glow inside the ticket booth, really.
The circus goers learned to step around the fire. They agreed they found it unfortunate. It nonetheless wasn’t quite urgent enough to interrupt the show. They were so keen to see the clowns, you know, as they settled in their seats, dabbing their watering eyes and coughing softly from the smoke.
And the circus? Well.
It was very, very busy.
As with all such circuses, a great many deeply important and admirable things needed to be done. There were several acts to announce, smoke-saturated banners to hang, red-eyed elephants to tend to, asthma-afflicted acrobats to reassure whose ropes needed inspecting — or at least discuss inspecting, one day soon.
And then? Then there was The Ringmaster.
To hear it told … The Ringmaster was beloved by a few, feared by others, and ultimately exhausting to nearly everyone. They had a magnificent red coat, a loud and commanding voice, and a remarkable talent for making every ordinary circus matter sound as though Parliament Themselves needed summoning.
If a tent stake went missing, they called it a structural alignment concern. If the popcorn cart ran out of salt, they wanted a cross-functional snack strategy. If the monkeys escaped, they praised the team’s agility while simultaneously asking who had last updated the outcome folder of the Primate Containment Plan after the last two PCP Standing Subcommittee Meetings.
The Ringmaster believed they managed complexity.
They further believed they managed said complexity exceptionally well.
And the acrobats? The acrobats darned the burn holes in their fraying costumes while glancing worriedly in the direction of those still-uninspected trapeze ropes, every now and again. Then they glanced at one another, seemed to decide something, before turning in their usual, graceful unison, with smiles and earnest nods toward The Ringmaster, endorsing just how exceptionally well the complexity was being managed.
Since all exceptional Ringmasters need their rings … Ours was circled by assistant ringmasters, deputy ringmasters, aspiring ringmasters, consulting ringmasters, and even one guy who had once read a book about Ringmastery as Leadership and apparently never fully recovered.
That dude’s name was Russell.
Russell didn’t even like circuses.
Still … Nobody could get rid of him.
Fortunately, all those circlers?
They were also quite important.
Though, to be clear,
Not nearly as important as the Ringmaster.
But no matter.
Because they carried clipboards.
They issued updates.
And they used words like …
vision, zeitgeist, momentum, accountability, pivot, activation, AND alignment
Somewhere, in all of this circus type grandeur and importance, there stood a girl called Zara. Zara was decidedly not the Ringmaster, though many people behaved as if she were, at least when it suited them and the Ringmaster was out of earshot.
Zara did not own the circus.
Zara had not even designed the circus.
Nope.
Zara was the Fire Marshal.
(to be continued …)