Chapter Forty-Nine
Mickey turned and raised his eyebrows to him. “She smokes.” He inhaled from the depths of his belly, smiling, closing his eyes. “Smell that? What you think she does with those ashes?”
Mickey turned and raised his eyebrows to him. “She smokes.” He inhaled from the depths of his belly, smiling, closing his eyes. “Smell that? What you think she does with those ashes?”
…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.