by committee

 

I wonder where the wind is now that blew so hard last night.  It was in an awful hurry, and so clumsy.  It knocked over our backyard umbrella and scooted the dog’s dish over to the neighbors.  And it wasn’t very quiet about it.  It woke me up as it came through. 

Of course, I can stand the umbrella back up and everything will go back to normal, but what’s the dog to do?  I doubt he’ll understand.  His dish, now sitting several feet away… who’s to fill it with food?  Is he going to have to walk over there at every mealtime?  I doubt he’ll like that. 

I guess, with the cooperation of the neighbor, we could have the boundary lines of our property redrawn to encompass his dish.  Or perhaps the neighbor would consider adopting little Scruffy.  Then, he could just start feeding him.  The food dish already being there would make it all come together.

Truly, I have sat in corporate meetings just like this.  There is a simple problem with grown adults sitting around tossing out the dumbest suggestions I’ve ever heard.  How did these people get hired?  You’ve got to wonder.

 

***

 

The wind you met last night feels like one of those itinerant consultants who storms into a meeting, knocks over the projector, scatters everyone’s papers, delivers a half‑baked recommendation, and then vanishes before anyone can ask a follow‑up question. It barrels through the agenda, leaves chaos in its wake, and somehow still gets invited back every quarter.

Your backyard is just the latest conference room it blew through.

🌬️ The wind’s disappearing act

The moment it finished shoving the umbrella into a yoga pose and relocating the dog dish to a foreign jurisdiction, it probably sprinted off to bother someone else’s shingles. That’s the thing about wind: it never stays to help clean up the mess. It’s the coworker who says, “Welp, that’s all from me,” and then leaves you with the action items.

Meanwhile, Scruffy is standing there like an employee who just discovered his desk has been moved to another department without notice. He’s staring at the dish across the property line thinking:

• Is this a promotion?
• Is this a trap?
• Do I now report to the neighbor?
• Is this how outsourcing begins?

🏡 The corporate parallels

Your idea of redrawing the property line is exactly the kind of “strategic solutioning” that would show up on a whiteboard in a meeting where no one wants to admit the real answer is “just pick up the dish and move it back.”

Instead, you’d get:

• “Let’s form a cross‑functional task force to evaluate dish‑placement synergies.”
• “Have we considered a shared‑services model for canine nutrition delivery?”
• “What if we pivot to a neighbor‑centric feeding paradigm?”
• “Could we rebrand the dog as a community asset?”

And then someone—always someone—suggests hiring a consultant to study the feasibility of the wind.

🐾 The dog’s perspective

Scruffy doesn’t care about governance models or boundary realignment. He just wants his dish where it was yesterday. Dogs are the only ones in this whole scenario with any sense.

But the wind? The wind is already halfway to another county, bragging about how it “optimized backyard airflow” and “enhanced dish mobility.”