Realizing I Was the Joke
In 2000, I worked at a medium-sized company that had a complex procedure for changing its products called an ECN (Engineering Change Notice). Design changes are needed for many reasons, including product problems, improvements, marketing, manufacturing, supply lines, and aesthetics. All companies have a change process, but ours had a significant hurdle.
A production change requires multiple groups to be aware of it, and once evaluated, they approve the change. Our problem was that the approval list ballooned to 23 people and was compounded by a FERT. What does FERT stand for? To this day, I have no idea and do not want to know.
Our system prevented the sales department from configuring an order, so they created a pseudo-part number for each order. i.e., a red car without a radio is FERT #1, a red car with a radio is FERT #2, a blue car… For some reason, the ECNs were required to list all FERTs, even though the majority were for products (sales) that had already shipped.
Each of the 23 people had many ECNs to review (in addition to their own jobs), and by the time all approvals were obtained, sales had added more FERTs, which caused the process to restart. This meant that a high-priority ECN took six months, whereas a normal one took at least a year. This logjam meant that a non-championed ECN got into a doom loop that never ended.
The process was so frustrating that I joked about it. This humor helped relieve stress but angered the documentation team, which was proud of its achievements (they successfully processed ECNs). And I admit it. I was a young punk in 2000. Alright, truth. I may have gone a little too far:)
I now understand this is the definition of unprofessional behavior because no part of the ECN process should contain humor. It is a dry document full of facts, procedures, and clear direction. I kind of knew this and still laughed.
Adding to the disconnect is that other people latched onto my humor. I would ask a supervisor for a signature and comment on how absurd the procedure was. They would snicker at the situation. It may not sound like it, but my humor helped build bonds, which improved the working relationship. But in reality, I was making my situation far worse.
The problem was that the approvers went to their meetings with grins on their faces. “Why are you grinning?” “Bill came to my office joking about one of his ECNs.” Of course, this got back to the document department.
After three years, I had enough, and I moved to a different company. Was the ECN process part of my motivation to change jobs? You bet! The new company process was far superior and only took ten minutes on my part, and approvals took less than a week. Nice!
I kept in contact with my former coworkers, and instead of getting better, the ECN approval problem compounded. To reduce the backlog, each department added an assistant, resulting in 37 approvals. The joke became so bad that upper management intervened. That’s it! Three signatures. No more! Yay! (It is now nine. Progress.)
Well, that is a big company. I can never be the joke because I know better. Right? Well… Two years ago, my parents discovered termites. They were subterranean, and the termite company needed to drill through the patio and entryway cement to inject poison around the house perimeter.
To cover the cement holes, my parents paid a company to tile over the entire patio and entryway. The result looked good, but the company mega-overestimated purchasing by four 50-pound bags of thin-set and 19 boxes of tile. For unknown reasons, it could not be returned.
I only saw an opportunity because the tile in my front entryway was cracked. So, I brought the leftover material home and, a year later, began my refurbishment project. Things did not go well right from the start. When the workers demolished the cracked tile, they found that the “slab” was made by dumping dry concrete on the dirt and mixing it with water. Really? This meant there was no real structure, and if new tile were placed on that junk, it would crack.
The workers demolished everything, poured an entirely new entryway, and I was excited to see the tile go on. But they seemed apprehensive of my tile choice. No bother, I was saving money!
This particular tile was only sold at Home Depot, and I placed an order for 30 boxes of tile and 10 bags of thin-set. And wow, did the initial result look fantastic! Great money-saving idea. Go Bill! Yet the workers still looked at me disapprovingly. Now, I really felt like I was missing something big.
When they had placed all the tiles I had on hand, suddenly, there was an issue. The “in stock” tile had been discontinued the prior year, and none could be located. So, why did Home Depot say it was in stock and let me order it? Nobody could explain that. I had no choice, and the workers jackhammered away all the just-placed tile—major $$$ setback.
I went to a local flooring distributor to see what was in stock, and the salesperson asked a simple question. “Is this for inside or outside?” “Outside.” “Then you need porcelain, not ceramic tile.” It turns out that ceramic tile absorbs moisture during rain, leading to color fading and cracks. Oh.
When I got home, I looked at the tile from my parents’ house, and it was ceramic. Ahh, this is why they looked at me the way they did. I was the joke.
How did it feel? Awful. And I suspect that the document managers at my former company felt the same. They were under pressure to add approval layers, and they were more frustrated than I was.
Now, as you may know, I like to have a writing spin in my articles. The tie-in is that this kind of humor is challenging to put in writing. What is occurring is that an absurd circumstance becomes so bad that it is funny. Yet, you might think, “All a writer needs to do is say what is going on.” “This is so bad, I need to laugh. Ha, ha, ha.” Yeah, no.
The laughing is not funny at all to those being laughed at. Why? The laughing person is acting cruel, which is not technically humor. And while similar situations have occurred in our lives, we do not always connect the dots. “Why are you laughing? This is not funny.”
The difference lies in intention, and it is difficult to communicate it. Thus, a character joking around for no apparent reason comes across as all wrong. I discovered this problem in an upcoming fictional book.
The scene is a criminal investigation, and one detective jokes about the absurdity of the paperwork with his fellow detectives. I intended to show a real-life work situation and connect with the readers by having a great laugh. I was inspired by my ECN experience when I wrote this.
In the third round of self-editing, that section did not sit well. I eventually understood I had inserted feelings without explanation. Readers are not mind readers, and that was exactly what I was requiring. Yikes!
Fortunately, I spotted the issue and removed the humor. The resulting scene now shows how difficult it is to be a detective by explaining the many legal steps required. The other detectives agreed that the red tape made their job difficult. While the scene is low-key, the characters are easier for the reader to relate to. Good save.
And then I thought up another step. “Hmm. This might make a good article.”
You’re the best -Bill
February 18, 2026
A production change requires multiple groups to be aware of it, and once evaluated, they approve the change. Our problem was that the approval list ballooned to 23 people and was compounded by a FERT. What does FERT stand for? To this day, I have no idea and do not want to know.
Our system prevented the sales department from configuring an order, so they created a pseudo-part number for each order. i.e., a red car without a radio is FERT #1, a red car with a radio is FERT #2, a blue car… For some reason, the ECNs were required to list all FERTs, even though the majority were for products (sales) that had already shipped.
Each of the 23 people had many ECNs to review (in addition to their own jobs), and by the time all approvals were obtained, sales had added more FERTs, which caused the process to restart. This meant that a high-priority ECN took six months, whereas a normal one took at least a year. This logjam meant that a non-championed ECN got into a doom loop that never ended.
The process was so frustrating that I joked about it. This humor helped relieve stress but angered the documentation team, which was proud of its achievements (they successfully processed ECNs). And I admit it. I was a young punk in 2000. Alright, truth. I may have gone a little too far:)
I now understand this is the definition of unprofessional behavior because no part of the ECN process should contain humor. It is a dry document full of facts, procedures, and clear direction. I kind of knew this and still laughed.
Adding to the disconnect is that other people latched onto my humor. I would ask a supervisor for a signature and comment on how absurd the procedure was. They would snicker at the situation. It may not sound like it, but my humor helped build bonds, which improved the working relationship. But in reality, I was making my situation far worse.
The problem was that the approvers went to their meetings with grins on their faces. “Why are you grinning?” “Bill came to my office joking about one of his ECNs.” Of course, this got back to the document department.
After three years, I had enough, and I moved to a different company. Was the ECN process part of my motivation to change jobs? You bet! The new company process was far superior and only took ten minutes on my part, and approvals took less than a week. Nice!
I kept in contact with my former coworkers, and instead of getting better, the ECN approval problem compounded. To reduce the backlog, each department added an assistant, resulting in 37 approvals. The joke became so bad that upper management intervened. That’s it! Three signatures. No more! Yay! (It is now nine. Progress.)
Well, that is a big company. I can never be the joke because I know better. Right? Well… Two years ago, my parents discovered termites. They were subterranean, and the termite company needed to drill through the patio and entryway cement to inject poison around the house perimeter.
To cover the cement holes, my parents paid a company to tile over the entire patio and entryway. The result looked good, but the company mega-overestimated purchasing by four 50-pound bags of thin-set and 19 boxes of tile. For unknown reasons, it could not be returned.
I only saw an opportunity because the tile in my front entryway was cracked. So, I brought the leftover material home and, a year later, began my refurbishment project. Things did not go well right from the start. When the workers demolished the cracked tile, they found that the “slab” was made by dumping dry concrete on the dirt and mixing it with water. Really? This meant there was no real structure, and if new tile were placed on that junk, it would crack.
The workers demolished everything, poured an entirely new entryway, and I was excited to see the tile go on. But they seemed apprehensive of my tile choice. No bother, I was saving money!
This particular tile was only sold at Home Depot, and I placed an order for 30 boxes of tile and 10 bags of thin-set. And wow, did the initial result look fantastic! Great money-saving idea. Go Bill! Yet the workers still looked at me disapprovingly. Now, I really felt like I was missing something big.
When they had placed all the tiles I had on hand, suddenly, there was an issue. The “in stock” tile had been discontinued the prior year, and none could be located. So, why did Home Depot say it was in stock and let me order it? Nobody could explain that. I had no choice, and the workers jackhammered away all the just-placed tile—major $$$ setback.
I went to a local flooring distributor to see what was in stock, and the salesperson asked a simple question. “Is this for inside or outside?” “Outside.” “Then you need porcelain, not ceramic tile.” It turns out that ceramic tile absorbs moisture during rain, leading to color fading and cracks. Oh.
When I got home, I looked at the tile from my parents’ house, and it was ceramic. Ahh, this is why they looked at me the way they did. I was the joke.
How did it feel? Awful. And I suspect that the document managers at my former company felt the same. They were under pressure to add approval layers, and they were more frustrated than I was.
Now, as you may know, I like to have a writing spin in my articles. The tie-in is that this kind of humor is challenging to put in writing. What is occurring is that an absurd circumstance becomes so bad that it is funny. Yet, you might think, “All a writer needs to do is say what is going on.” “This is so bad, I need to laugh. Ha, ha, ha.” Yeah, no.
The laughing is not funny at all to those being laughed at. Why? The laughing person is acting cruel, which is not technically humor. And while similar situations have occurred in our lives, we do not always connect the dots. “Why are you laughing? This is not funny.”
The difference lies in intention, and it is difficult to communicate it. Thus, a character joking around for no apparent reason comes across as all wrong. I discovered this problem in an upcoming fictional book.
The scene is a criminal investigation, and one detective jokes about the absurdity of the paperwork with his fellow detectives. I intended to show a real-life work situation and connect with the readers by having a great laugh. I was inspired by my ECN experience when I wrote this.
In the third round of self-editing, that section did not sit well. I eventually understood I had inserted feelings without explanation. Readers are not mind readers, and that was exactly what I was requiring. Yikes!
Fortunately, I spotted the issue and removed the humor. The resulting scene now shows how difficult it is to be a detective by explaining the many legal steps required. The other detectives agreed that the red tape made their job difficult. While the scene is low-key, the characters are easier for the reader to relate to. Good save.
And then I thought up another step. “Hmm. This might make a good article.”
You’re the best -Bill
February 18, 2026
