Meet the Management
Yesterday’s Management is a story told through the different parts of me. Aditi 1, 2 and 3 are all me, each with her own idea of how to run my life. Jelli is my dog.
- Aditi 1 · The Heart
- Feels first. Wants to be understood.
- Aditi 2 · The Operator
- Makes the plan. Tries to keep everyone functioning.
- Aditi 3 · The Maker
- Would rather make something than follow the plan.
- Jelli · The Dog
- My actual dog. Mostly here for the snacks.
Read it like a script: the name beside each line tells you who’s speaking.
Meet the whole castYesterday’s Management
Every morning, at approximately 6:47 AM, a formal transfer of responsibility takes place.
The outgoing administration is rarely cooperative.
The incoming administration is rarely prepared.
On this particular Tuesday, Aditi 2 arrived first.
She unlocked the office, opened the calendar, checked Slack, reviewed email, and immediately discovered seven unresolved situations.
Aditi 2: What happened here?
Aditi 1: Good morning.
Aditi 2: What happened here?
Aditi 3: Which one?
Aditi 2: The answer should never be “which one.”
Aditi 1: That’s fair.
Aditi 2: Let’s begin with the easiest issue.
Aditi 1: Great.
Aditi 2: Why are we emotionally invested in a man who has provided approximately fourteen minutes of actual effort this quarter?
Aditi 1: Next question.
Aditi 2: Denied.
Aditi 1: I thought we agreed not to use quarterly reporting for matters of the heart.
Aditi 2: I never agreed to that.
Aditi 1: Well, I did.
Aditi 2: Noted.
She wrote something on a clipboard.
Aditi 1: What did you write?
Aditi 2: “Leadership refuses accountability.”
Aditi 1: Rude.
Aditi 2: Accurate.
Aditi 3 entered carrying flowers.
Aditi 2: Why do you have flowers?
Aditi 3: They’re beautiful.
Aditi 2: That’s not what I asked.
Aditi 3: I know.
Aditi 2: How much did they cost?
Aditi 3: Less than therapy.
Aditi 2: Everything costs less than therapy.
Aditi 3: Exactly.
Aditi 2 sighed.
She had been running this organization for years.
Officially, she was responsible for operations.
Unofficially, she was responsible for cleaning up after everyone else.
Aditi 2: Let’s continue.
Issue number two.
Why are there seventy marigolds in the shopping cart?
Aditi 3: Abundance.
Aditi 2: The backyard is twelve feet wide.
Aditi 3: Abundance isn’t about size.
Aditi 2: It’s literally about size.
Aditi 3: Spiritually, no.
Aditi 2: I don’t know what that means.
Aditi 3: Neither do I.
The marigolds remained in the cart.
Aditi 2 crossed out a line on her clipboard.
Aditi 1: What was that?
Aditi 2: The part where I thought I was in control.
A moment of silence followed.
Then Aditi 1 looked up from her phone.
Aditi 1: Wait.
Aditi 2: What now?
Aditi 1: He liked the message.
Aditi 2: Who?
Aditi 1: You know who.
Aditi 2: I absolutely do not.
Aditi 1: You do.
Aditi 2: Unfortunately, I do.
Aditi 1: What does it mean?
Aditi 2: Nothing.
Aditi 1: But what if—
Aditi 2: Nothing.
Aditi 1: Counterpoint.
Aditi 2: No.
Aditi 1: Counterpoint.
Aditi 2: No.
Aditi 1: Counterpoint.
Aditi 2: Please stop saying “counterpoint” like you’ve discovered evidence.
Aditi 3: I think it’s romantic.
Aditi 2: Of course you do.
Aditi 3: Thank you.
Aditi 2: That wasn’t a compliment.
Outside, the morning continued as normal.
People drank coffee.
Dogs went on walks.
Meetings started.
Invoices were paid.
Meanwhile, inside Aditi Headquarters, a far less organized operation was underway.
Aditi 2 reviewed her notes.
Unfinished work.
Questionable decisions.
Several developing situations.
One garden-related expenditure.
One emotional investigation.
Three active business ideas.
And somehow, despite all available evidence, she knew exactly what would happen.
By tomorrow, there would be more.
Aditi 2: Before we adjourn, does anyone have anything else to report?
Aditi 1: Maybe.
Aditi 3: Definitely.
Aditi 2: That’s what I was afraid of.
End of Chapter 1.