- Grand Poobah Picture
- What Is A Grand Poobah
- Grand Poobah Happy Days
- Poobah Meaning
- Grand Poobah Flintstones Youtube Theme
- Grand Poobah Flintstones Youtube Full
I’m a big thinker. I like to make plans and brainstorm ideas.
WillardSCox Flintstones Grand Poobah hat Men's Casual T Shirt. Forum Novelties Water Buffalo Lodge Hat. 4.5 out of 5 stars 42. Today in Masonic History we discuss the 'Grand Poobah'. The term 'Grand Poobah has it's origins closer to Freemasonry than many may think. Most people recognize the term 'Grand Poobah' from the popular cartoon series from Hanna-Barbara The Flintstones.In the cartoon, the two main characters Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble regularly appear at their lodge meeting.
And then I do nothing. Sometimes for years. Sometimes because life responsibilities are demanding, sometimes because I’m afraid or lazy, and a lot of times because, as much of a dreamer as I am, I’m also a realist. Some plans are just too big for right now.
But because I’m a thinker, I’ve often had an idea stewing for awhile and then BAM! I do something seemingly impulsive and start this “new” thing.
This is one of those situations. I’ve been saying for awhile that I need to write a blog about the cats, for reasons that we’ll eventually get to. I apparently have a lot of stories to share about them, because when people ask me how I am, I often answer in cat stories. If I had a blog about them, I could direct people there instead (yes, I know that I should maybe start answering that question with information about my kids or myself, but…CATS).
Then recently, a friend mentioned that I post a lot of photos of my cats on Facebook (but is that person REALLY a friend?) and I wondered if I should put these photos somewhere other than my social media. A few days after that, a cat incident happened. While I was texting it to my kids and husband, it occurred to me that while they love these cats–I should clarify here that my husband loves one, is highly fond of another, and barely tolerates the other two– they may not love the multiple updates of cat shenanigans while they are in school or at work. So within minutes of the incident and sending the text, I had this blog set-up and ready for me to STOP DREAMING and just DO IT.
Grand Poobah Picture
So what was this incident that lit such a fire beneath me? I’ll tell you, even though it will not support my previous post’s claim that I am not a crazy cat lady.
I spend lots of time at my writing desk in front of my bedroom window, overlooking our front yard, trying to make magic happen with words on a page. More often than not, I get caught up in the comings and goings of neighbors in my cul-de-sac (that is a blog in its own right!) A few days ago, I came home from work in the early afternoon as usual, put on my jammy bottoms and slippers (don’t judge) but kept my shirt on–you know, business on top and party on bottom–and sat at my desk to finish up some edits before I mailed off my packet for school. I immediately noticed three young girls in my front yard, walking toward my window. They’re around ages 4, 6, and 7, and this wasn’t the first time I’ve found them messing around in my yard. Usually, they’re trying to pet one of my cats, or one of the neighborhood wandering cats that seem to like our yard, or picking my flowers. I refer to them as the cul-de-sac urchins.
This day, they took longer in my yard than usual, and then they traveled over to my neighbors driveway. I could see them partaking in some mischief, crouching down, trying to coax something to them. I had a feeling it was one of my two outdoor cats they were going for, and I figured as long as they weren’t touching him, it was fine. But then they started throwing stuff, clapping their hands at him, and shouting. That’s when I went outside.
I walked out onto my driveway, crossed my arms, and watched. I didn’t want any cul-de-sac drama, so I planned to intervene only if absolutely necessary. The younger girl locked eyes with me, but didn’t say anything to the other two. The clapping and yelling continued, but the cat wasn’t responding, so they got up and began walking home, toward me, still not noticing me standing there in my menacing jammy bottoms and slippers. The had only taken about five steps toward home when the lead urchin got inspired. She went back to the spot, waved the other two over, and grabbed a stick. She began shouting again, and then suddenly, took off running toward the poor creature, hitting the stick on the ground and yelling fighting words! Things like,”I’m gonna get you!” and “Come here and let me take you home!”
I quickly marched closer, still not able to see which animal they were terrorizing. The girls, apparently sensing their failure, turned to walk home but met ME instead.
“Were you kids terrorizing a cat?” They nodded yes, their eyes big and mouths slightly agape, either from fear of getting in trouble, or from from fear of me in all my half-jammy, half-fancy shirt in the middle of the day glory.
“What color was it?” The don’t answer.
“Was it black?” They nod yes.
“That’s one of my cats, and he doesn’t deserve to be terrorized! You girls are mean, and it is not okay for you to terrorize my cat or ANY cat for that matter! And it is NOT okay for you to be in my yard, ever. I’m going to tell your parents that you are mean to animals and that you trespass on other people’s property if this ever happens again!” They stood frozen, but my lecture unfroze someone else. Fred, my 9 year old cat #1, came trotting across my yard, right to me. I picked him up.
“Was this the kitty you were terrorizing?”
The lead urchin said yes.
I turned away away from them and began walking toward my front door, holding Fred close, all while blubbering over my shoulder, “You girls lied. This cat isn’t black. This is my tabby cat. This kitty is old and kind and doesn’t deserve you mean kids terrorizing him. I’m going to tell your parents. Don’t ever come in my yard again!” I was quite dramatic.
What Is A Grand Poobah
Fred and I got in the house safely and I settled him into his favorite spot on my bed, right behind my head when I’m sitting on my writing throne. That’s when I texted the whole incident to my kids and husband, and then looked at Fred and said, “You know, Fred, I should probably start that blog now, huh?” Fred replied, “Meow.” This translates in Fred language to, “That’s a divine idea, and since I was born for fame and royalty, let’s start with a little ditty about me, shall we?” (I don’t know what your cats sound like, but Fred’s voice is sort of an upper crust, British, Morgan Freeman).
Grand Poobah Happy Days
I know I was a little mean to the girls, as well as a bit hysterical in my retreat from them. But Fred has often needed protecting or saving, and we have nearly lost him twice. His history with our family is deep and traumatic, and I won’t lie–if America enacted a one-cat only law, Fred would be that one cat. He’s the Grand PooBah here (more like the Fred Flintstone one, not The Mikado version), The Godfather, the Grand Master Flash. You don’t mess with my cat, no matter how “innocent” you appear, or this not-crazy-cat-lady will have urchin for lunch!
And I think Fred knows it. After I rescued him, while I was setting up this blog, he took position and helped me monitor the cul de sac and edit my work. First over my shoulder and then at my feet. The afternoon was lovely after that.
Fred looking out the window, over my shoulder, grateful for his rescue
I am happy to share my latest blog post that discusses leadership, labels, and hierarchy. Thank you SHRM:
Let’s take a journey back to the Flintstones in Bedrock. Think of the Grand Poobah (without putting on your hat).
Poobah Meaning
Now, no reasonable leader would ever refer to themselves as an employee’s Grand Poobah. Actually, some do much worse.
I was reading a memo by someone with power to an employee who reported to him. The employee had refused defiantly, without any justification, to perform multiple tasks required of him.
In response to a classic case of in-your-face insubordination, the person of power made clear by memo that, unless the employee did what his superior told him to do, he would be fired. I could not get past the use of the term “superior” ….I never can.
If the person with power is the superior, is not the person reporting to him, by definition, inferior? Grand Poobah is sounding better by the moment.
In most communications, there is no need to emphasize hierarchy. I like referring to colleagues as just that.
But there are times where hierarchy matters. So does the connotation of the word used.
To say one is superior—and by implication, the other inferior—is offensive.
How about “boss?” That sounds better, but still drips of hierarchy.
That leaves me with the obvious choice, but not as obvious to some in moments of frustration: supervisor, manager or leader. That describes what someone does, not who they are, with hierarchy implicit as opposed to explicit.
Please avoid “superior” and think twice about “boss.” Otherwise, you send a message that may result in an employee feeling devalued. When employees feel devalued, they are less likely to be engaged and more likely to be enraged.
Grand Poobah Flintstones Youtube Theme
Have I convinced you to nix “superior?” If so, I can say only one thing: yabba dabba do!
This blog is not legal advice, should not be construed as applying to specific factual situations or as establishing an attorney-client relationship.
Grand Poobah Flintstones Youtube Full
Follow me on Twitter at: @Jonathan__HR__Law.
- File Under:Leadership, Work Environment
- Tags: leadership, Hierarchy, labels