Them: Is it really so difficult or confusing to assemble your dossier? We think the instructions are very clear. Just arrange your materials in this way, and do a little more of this type of work, and take the other stuff out. We don’t think there’s a place for it in your dossier.

Them: It doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe you could just report it in a way that makes it easier for everyone else to understand what you did for these years?

Babelfish (sotto voce): Or maybe, assemble it in a way that nobody else has to try hard to understand. Or even try at all, really. Because, supporting a colleague indeed shouldn’t be this hard.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to say any more than I have to, if that.”

[Get Shorty is also a novel, written by Elmore Leonard] “He put on his black leather gloves going up the stairs to the third floor, knocked on the door three times, waited, pulling the right-hand glove on tight, and when Ray Bones opened the door Chili nailed him. One punch, not seeing any need to throw the left. He got his coat from a chair in the sitting room, looked at Ray Bones bent over holding his nose and mouth, blood all over his hands, his shirt, and walked out. Didn’t say one word to him.”

Babelfish: (sotto voce) Or maybe the instructions you are giving aren’t really so straightforward as you think. Or maybe they don’t account for someone who is in my situation or position. And that lack of inclusivity underlies the whole issue. You know, maybe you aren’t getting out of this process what you want, because you aren’t willing to value what I did / am doing / will do?

DIRECTOR (in Japanese to the interpreter): The translation is very important, O.K.? The translation.

INTERPRETER: Yes, of course. I understand.

DIRECTOR: Mr. Bob-san. You are sitting quietly in your study. And then there is a bottle of Suntory whiskey on top of the table. You understand, right? With wholehearted feeling, slowly, look at the camera, tenderly, and as if you are meeting old friends, say the words. As if you are Bogie in ‘‘Casablanca,’’ saying, ‘‘Cheers to you guys,’’ Suntory time!

INTERPRETER: He wants you to turn, look in camera. O.K.?

BOB: That’s all he said?

INTERPRETER: Yes, turn to camera.

BOB: Does he want me to, to turn from the right or turn from the left?

INTERPRETER (in very formal Japanese to the director): He has prepared and is ready. And he wants to know, when the camera rolls, would you prefer that he turn to the left, or would you prefer that he turn to the right? And that is the kind of thing he would like to know, if you don’t mind.

DIRECTOR (very brusquely, and in much more colloquial Japanese): Either way is fine. That kind of thing doesn’t matter. We don’t have time, Bob-san, O.K.? You need to hurry. Raise the tension. Look at the camera. Slowly, with passion. It’s passion that we want. Do you understand?

INTERPRETER (In English, to Bob): Right side. And, uh, with intensity.

BOB: Is that everything? It seemed like he said quite a bit more than that.

DIRECTOR: What you are talking about is not just whiskey, you know. Do you understand? It’s like you are meeting old friends. Softly, tenderly. Gently. Let your feelings boil up. Tension is important! Don’t forget.

INTERPRETER (in English, to Bob): Like an old friend, and into the camera.

BOB: O.K.

DIRECTOR: You understand? You love whiskey. It’s Suntory time! O.K.?

BOB: O.K.

DIRECTOR: O.K.? O.K., let’s roll. Start.

BOB: For relaxing times, make it Suntory time.

DIRECTOR: Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut! (Then in a very male form of Japanese, like a father speaking to a wayward child) Don’t try to fool me. Don’t pretend you don’t understand. Do you even understand what we are trying to do? Suntory is very exclusive. The sound of the words is important. It’s an expensive drink. This is No. 1. Now do it again, and you have to feel that this is exclusive. O.K.? This is not an everyday whiskey you know.

INTERPRETER: Could you do it slower and —-

DIRECTOR: With more ecstatic emotion.

INTERPRETER: More intensity.

DIRECTOR (in English): Suntory time! Roll.

BOB: For relaxing times, make it Suntory time.

DIRECTOR: Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut! God, I’m begging you.

Babelfish: Of course, you have the thing I want. I also know that it shouldn’t have to be up to you to try to understand me. It just seems like you want me to plead my case in a way that makes sense to people who are not even in the room. And I don’t understand why I need to do that for the people closest to me. From my point of view, I don’t understand why you are having such a hard time finding a way to support my efforts.

Yet, oddly, the people outside this closed circle are willing to look at the volume of my high-quality work and assume there’s value in it. It’s only your lack of support that makes it uncomfortable for them to give their support to me.

So, now I think we are getting to the root of the issue. We are getting somewhere! At the same time, we are no closer to a solution than we ever were: We are still at Step Zero, in fact.

I didn’t take the path of least resistance. I most certainly did not. Instead, I did something far more strenuous, far more difficult, far more career-threatening, far more vulnerable, and I KICKED TOTAL ASS. Ironically, that’s the part you don’t seem to understand.

The evidence is there, oh Lord, it is ALL OVER THE PLACE. The issue is that I can’t seem to explain my volume of work to you in a way that makes it look like I took the path of least resistance, like everyone else. Worst yet, it seems like you are afraid to support or value my volume of work. Maybe you are afraid that supporting my volume of work might displease the layers of the process above you.

So, if I am going to beg at all, I beg you merely to do the job that was asked of you: Review my materials and be supportive colleagues. Don’t worry about what the next group might say. Don’t worry that your act of support will get you in trouble. Because, for real, what kind of trouble could you get into? Just please write a letter that is generally supportive of my candidacy, and I’m content to let the chips fall where the may otherwise.

Verdict: WEAK SAUCE, PEOPLE!

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