A Death in the Dining Room
A man wearing a Santa Claus suit lay in the road. His body was mangled. The blood pool was still growing under and around him. His arm was tucked underneath his back and his face looked like it had been smashed in with a waffle iron. Or a Toyota Corolla.
…that until organizations realize that treating adults like wayward children destroys morale, creativity, and basic human joy, the micromanager will continue to loom—hovering, nitpicking, doubting, draining, controlling—like the world’s least charismatic supervillain.