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smitten-with-witten · 2 years

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‘LANDOVER, MD — The mission to further establish momentum going into the NFL playoffs was failed by the Dallas Cowboys, and in a fashion that was tough to stomach for all involved, as they fell 26-6 in their regular season finale against the Washington Commanders.

Ultimately, a win wouldn't have done anything to improve their playoff seeding (No. 5), but playing their starters — including Dak Prescott — for the majority of the game showed they were hoping to leave FedEx Field with a win.

Instead, they left having played the worst game of the season, slotting it directly next to their 19-3 loss in Week 1 to the very same Tampa Bay Buccaneers they must now recover to face on NFL Super Wild Card Weekend in no more than eight days from now.

Prescott, who played poorly in Week 1, virtually mirrored his numbers from that outing in Week 18, as you can readily see:

Week 1: 14/29 passing, 134 passing yards, 0 TD, 1 INT, 47.2 rating

Week 18: 14/37 passing, 128 passing yards, 1 passing TD, 1 INT, 45.8 rating

The two-time Pro Bowler took to the podium following the regular season finale and took the train of accountability head on.

"Sh---y, not to use the language but it was exactly that," said Prescott of his and the offense's performance against the Commanders on Sunday. "The defense gave us a chance. We put them in bad positions, us and special teams did. ... I think the defense did enough, obviously.

"But, for offense, just completely not who we are. I don't think I've seen us like that, damn sure not in the last two years. It's something that, as much as you want to burn the tape and move forward, there's a lot that we've got to learn from. Use this tape."

Time and again, the defense did indeed give the Cowboys a chance at capitalizing, but the offense could muster only one touchdown (a 15-yard scoring pass from Prescott to CeeDee Lamb to end the first half) and the special teams unit, one that's been routinely excellent this season, only made things worse.

A great kick return to begin the contest was deleted by a penalty on safety Tyler Coyle. Bryan Anger fumbled a snap that then saw him tackled, gifting possession to the Commanders in the red zone. Turpin later muffed his second punt of the season, the Commanders again recovering in the red zone.

The Cowboys simply could not get out of their own way, as has been the case in each of their five losses this season.

"We've got the right guys in this locker room [that] understand nobody played their best ball, simple as that," Prescott said. "It starts with myself — being accountable for what you put out there, what you did. From that it's about understanding that's not who we are and then moving on and knowing what we've got ahead of us: one play at a time, one game at a time."

One thing the Cowboys were not doing, however, is wondering about the Eagles' outcome, having "zero awareness" of it as they desperately tried to find some sort of consistency on offense that never arrived.

For Prescott, who saw Kendall Fuller drop a would-be interception before targeting him on the very next play, resulting in a pick-six, now has a league- and career-high 15 interceptions on the season; and that puts the Cowboys in worrisome air when considering they're now tasked with trying to hand Tom Brady his first-ever loss against Dallas — in the playoffs, no less.

"It stinks," he admitted. "... I've got to get better at it. This won't continue. ... I've been having to get back up all my life."

The film from Washington won't be burned, but instead dissected and digested fully to try and force another needed episode of resilience from a Cowboys team that hasn't suffered a two-game losing streak at any point in the season. Keeping that trend alive in Tampa will ultimately tell the tale of if this version of the Cowboys are as special as they believe they can be.

Given the vibe in the locker room after the game, and of Prescott, they're sitting with a nauseating taste in their mouths at the moment, readying to turn the page quickly while not forgetting what happened in Landover.

"When that plane touches down [in Dallas], we're on to Tampa." Dak Prescott isn't shying away from his fault in the INTs that have burned the Cowboys this season and, after losing to the Commanders, knows they must stop — effective immediately.’

#dak prescott #dallas cowboys #nfl #cowboys #cowboys nation #national football league #nfl 2022 #washington commanders

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castillo-adrian · 6 years

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Franz Ferdinand | Closed.

Note: Important to the St. Clair VS Rutherford conflict. Featuring @lin-melissa @johnathanparsons @divyakoshal

Dissatisfied by Adrian’s performance at the end of the 6ème grade, Madame Vallereau, his English teacher, gave him Agatha Christie books for a summer reading. The most effective way to brush up his English skills, she thought, and wasn’t wrong.

‘Murder on the Links,’ one of the novels that Adrian read that summer, opened with an anecdote.

“A young writer, determined to make the commencement of his story forcible and original enough to catch and rivet the attention of the most blasé of editors, penned the following sentence: “‘Hell!’ said the Duchess.”

Sitting across the glossy hardwood table in Johnathan Parsons’ office, an entertained smile painted Adrian’s features, as he’d be reminded of that exact line upon witnessing the man slam his fist in an angry fashion.

“Hell!” said the boss, “They made a grave mistake. Attempting to dip their dirty toes in Westminster, of all places? Well, I’m going to cut them off one by one.”

The man’s wrath had been justified. The borough of Westminster was a Rutherford stronghold. The French attempting to buy a property with the intention to build a club and push their drug trade was... bold to say the least. Johnathan had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny of this part of the city (and pretty much the rest of it, too) and he’d been informed of the news long before the French would have enough time to seal the deal.

Johnathan’s solution was simple: chop up the poor fucker who agreed to sell his property and deliver his body parts to the doorstep of Marine Charif, the commandant of Camden, the one behind the scheme.

“I want the bitch to remember to stay in her fucking lane,” Johnathan growled.

“If I may propose an alternative,” Adrian spoke softly and leaned in towards the table.

Melissa gave him a curious look. It was enough for Adrian to continue.

“Let them –”

“What on Earth are you talking about, Castillo?” Johnathan cut him off, “you’re not feeling nostalgic, are you?”

“Johnathan,” Melissa intervened, “let him finish.”

Brushing off the annoying inclinations of Johnathan’s question, Adrian proceeded.

“Let them buy the property, invest their money, build the club, bring in the shipment, you know, the whole deal and then, right before the opening, burn it to the ashes. And we don’t kill the owner, we kill the commandant. Stronger message.”

“Damn, Castillo,” Johnathan sunk back into his leather chair and took a sip of his whiskey, “Not bad, in theory, but the French will be guarding the place like rabid dogs as soon as the sale goes through. You won’t be able to get in without opening a massive fire and we do not want to turn our turf into a battle zone. Especially Westminster.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Adrian’s smile hinted at something Machiavellian, “I’m sure we have people at the City Hall who’d be more than eager to give us the blueprints of the club, once submitted, and call an inspection. The French won’t bother moving drugs, just hide it somewhere inside the club. They’ll just have to clear out the building for a few hours. Enough time to plant the explosives.”

Johnathan and Melissa exchanged glances. After a few minutes of consideration, the boss spoke.

“Adrian’s plan does sound more sustainable in the long run, unless we’re killing every business owner who is considering to sell to the French,” Melissa raised an eyebrow, “I’d rather we drum up the French death toll, than the local.”

“This is a huge risk, however. If your stint doesn’t work, we’re going to have to open fire on our territory, which is not part of my plan. Are you sure you can pull this off?” Johnathan inquired.

“I am, yes,” Adrian nodded firmly.

“Remember, you will be the one to pay the price, if it doesn’t.”

Had he not been confident in his abilities, Adrian would’ve backed out right then and there. After all, what kind of fool with no sense of self-preservation would risk being at the receiving end of Johnathan Parsons’ fury?

II.

Adrian Castillo stood on top of the roof with a majestic content. The events had transpired the way he had planned, and they all led to this particular night. In a few short minutes, Marine Charif, the infamous commandant would join her friends and soldiers in a for French only, pre-celebration get-together, before the actual opening night.

How to shoot your target 500 yards away?

With math and physics. Neither an exceptionally skilled sniper, nor an excellent piece of machinery was enough to pull it off with success, and Adrian was one and held one. Luckily, he had enough basic STEM knowledge, too, the courtesy of his training as a GIGN sniper.

As soon as the bullet leaves the barrel, it’s influenced by two basic forces: gravity and drag. The fraction of a millisecond prior to the bullet exiting, it’s been under one single, fairly significant force: the pressure of the expanding gasses of the powder charge behind the bullet. As soon as that gas can escape the barrel, acceleration stops, and deceleration due to drag takes over, as does gravity once the bullet is no longer supported on all sides by the rifle barrel.

Even if he took gravity and drag into consideration, he had to account for velocity, trigonometry, wind direction, and optics. The rifle, set up hours beforehand, was sitting at the edge of the roof, with Adrian behind it.

“…Roger that. We’re in the position,” spoke Divya through comms, “waiting for your signal.”

The group of people led by Divya was partly made up with the newest recruits of Rutherford organisation, hand-picked solely for this mission. They were to mix with the club staff and lock down all the exits once Adrian had executed his kill. The other part though, the more experienced ones, were on a stand-by, to gun down any escapees with silenced pistols and dump their bodies on the French territory.

They’d planted the bombs two days prior, when the city hall demanded an inspection upon Rutherford orders and their loyalists, dressed up as the crew, hid explosives in ten different spots inside the club.

“Stand by,” responded Adrian to Divya. Introducing them to the basic military lingo was one of the first things Adrian had done during the training. Discipline and precision were key to pulling off the mission and he had no intention to leave any room for error.

Three minutes later, there was a sound of a car pulling up at the parking lot and clicking of boots on the concrete.

When the woman neared Adrian’s shooting range and he saw her face, there was a millisecond of hesitation.

He had studied her photographs whilst planning the attack, but now, seeing her in flash, it all came back to him - the reason why her name had sounded so damn familiar.

Marine Charif was introduced to the French Organisation ten years ago, by Laure. He could remember it all so vividly now: Laure walking into the room, with young Marine in tow, announcing to him, Julien and Évelyne that her cousin from Marseille had joined the St. Clair ranks.

But the millisecond was not enough to intervene with the kill.

Almost as soon as his .223 Remington, 69–80-grain bullets left the rifle and tore through Marine’s temple and into her skull, Adrian gave a command.

“Engage.”

The team had worked like a well-geared machine.

It all happened simultaneously.

Marine’s blood spattering all over the parking lot.

One of Divya’s man dragging her body out.

Rutherford loyalists locking down every possible exit from the building.

Divya pushing her thumb into the detonator.

The club lighting up the London skyline like the parade of fireworks.

The sound was deafening. The flames exploded in a mini-supernova, turning everyone and everything inside the club – the people, the expensive equipment, the furniture, the insane amounts of cocaine, into a gruesome pile of pieces of human flesh, wood, and metal, scattered like a jigsaw puzzle. And above all that, the grey powder of ash started to descend and add a monochromatic layer, like fallen snow on a forgotten city.

III.

The firefighter John Coyle shook his head in disbelief.

“This is clearly not a gas leak.”

“Don’t be a fucking hero, mate, and take the money. God knows you could use it,” his co-worker of seven years patted him on the back, “and so could I. Tara is starting school this year.”

“There are more than thirty people burnt to the crisp, man, thirty.”

“Listen, it’s already been written off as a gas leak, give it a rest. Besides,” he leaned in closer to whisper, “I heard they were some drug dealing French criminals, I say, London is better off.”

“God’s sakes, they were people.”

With those simple words, John Coyle had turned himself into a loose end. Unfortunately for him, Rutherfords didn’t leave those alive. He was no exception, as he’d soon find out, standing behind a gun pointed at him by one of Adrian’s people, and drawing his last breath before the trigger was pulled.

IV.

The reason why Adrian was holding a glass of scotch in his hand was to celebrate a successful job, not the fact that he had just sent more than three dozen people to meet their maker.

Johnathan and Melissa, though, they were glad no St. Clair loyalist would venture to make a move on Westminster for a long time.

“Marine was a commandant. Her assassination will trigger a chain of events,” Adrian pointed out the obvious.

“Exactly the point. And this? This was just an opening act to the big event,” Johnathan smirked and poured another glass. “Wait until you hear who your next target is. Let’s say the hotel launch will be even more memorable for the French than we’d initially planned.”

Adrian had already been wrapping up his preparations for the upcoming attack on Amir Dawar’s new hotel opening night, and the news of an unknown variable thrown into the equation drew all of his attention.

“A special guest from across the pond,” Melissa sat in a chair and crossed her leg.

IV.

The next day Marine Charif’s body would be found nailed to a metal plaque that read “The City of Westminster,” in a trash bin outside her Camden house.

And trash was exactly where dead rats belonged.

#this is huge but no read more because it will be impossible to read #Also the title is the hint ;) for fellow history nerds #Selfpara

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bitletsanddrabbles · 5 years

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Downton Court Hotel pt. 6

Completely unpolished draft of the reception, part one.

Of course, the reception was only supposed to be one part.

WHY? WHY, SCENE?!? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SPLIT UP ON ME? WHY DO I HAVE TO CARE ABOUT PACING? THIS IS JUST A STUPID FLUFF THING!!!! ARGH!!!!

I will probably sit on this one a few days and do a bit more polishing, but for now....

Also, while I don’t have a definite setting for this, it clearly happens sometime before April, 2019.

(The file for this is 34 pages. How did this silly, stupid thing get to be 34 pages long?!?)

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Phyllis Baxter, Joseph Molesley, Tom Branson, Sybbie Branson, Sybil Branson, Thomas Barrow, Anna Bates

Relationship: Baxter/Molesley, canon pairings

Warnings: Bored six year old child. Bored nearly-forty year old Thomas.

https://bitletsanddrabbles.tumblr.com/post/184219301659/downton-court-hotel-pt-5

Phyllis was exhausted, but at the same time, she couldn't remember when she'd ever felt happier. She lost track of who had shaken her hand, congratulated her, wished her all the best in the future, and moved on to her husband.

Her husband. She may have stayed Baxter on paper, having decided after changing it to Coyle and back that it was entirely too much hassle to bother with again, but she was now Joseph's wife. The thought brought her smile back up full force whenever it started to fade from weariness.

A man she'd never met approached her, a girl of about six hoisted in her arms. "Tom Branson," the man introduced himself and she immediately placed the name. "Pleased to meet – and congratulate – you."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Joseph has told me all about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet."

"Why didn't you have a flower girl?" the girl, who she deduced was his daughter, asked before her father could reply.

"Sybbie," both Mr. Branson and the woman just behind him, who had to be Lord Grantham's youngest, Lady Sybil, scolded in unison. "Manners."

Not quite willing to let anyone get in trouble on her account, Phyllis smiled at the little girl and employed a technique Thomas called 'creative license', but most other people called 'lying'. "A flower girl is supposed to throw rose petals down the aisle," she explained, not entirely certain if it was true, but dimly remembering something like that from a movie she'd once seen. She hadn't had a flower girl in her first wedding either. "And Father Travis is going to have another function in the church later, so I didn't want to make a mess."

The little girl frowned, but didn't offer any argument other than a discontent, "Oh."

"Come on, Sybbie, let's say hello to Mr. Molsley and then we can go get something to eat." Mr. Branson gave Phyllis a look that was both grateful and long suffering.

"Can we have the cake now?"

"The cake comes later."

Sybil Branson stepped in front of her and shook her hand. "I'm dreadfully sorry about that."

"Don't be," Phyllis smiled and shook her head. "She's darling, and what little girl doesn't want to be a flower girl?"

The other woman thought a moment, then replied, "Actually I can't see my sister Mary wanting it. She'd probably have thought it menial. Mary is a bride-or-nothing sort." She laughed a little at some private thought and took Phyllis's hand. "Anyway, thank you so much for inviting us, and congratulations. I'm sure you'll both be very happy."

"Thank you."

And the line wound on, mostly unfamiliar faces given that, outside of the wedding party and a couple of odd friends she'd made in recent years, the guests were all Joseph's friends and family. He'd asked, at least a hundred times, if there wasn't anyone she wanted to invite, but most of the friends she'd known before the divorce hadn't wanted anything to do with a jail bird. Thomas's sister had sent her a congratulatory email and regretted not being able to get the time off, which was probably for the best anyway. Another congratulatory friend had moved to America. She supposed it should have been sad, having so few people to invite, but she found she didn't care. She remembered Daisy asking Anna at the bachlorette party if she regretted going to the registrar's office rather than having a church ceremony and Anna replying that she'd rather have the right man than the right wedding.

Sneaking a sideways glance at Joseph, Phyllis couldn't help thinking she'd gotten both.

Once the last hand was shaken, Joseph held out his arm, the perfect, gallant gentleman, and led her over to the head table. They'd decided, after much debate, on having the food on the table itself rather than a buffet style, although it did cost a bit more. They'd also decided to forgo the speeches, although Phyllis half suspected that someone would find a way to slip one or two in. Mostly, though, she looked forward to an evening of polite conversation, good food, and some dancing.

She was somewhat surprised to find that Thomas had taken his seat at the table already. The rest of the bride's maids and groom's men were still wandering around, admiring the cake and greeting familiar faces among the guests. There were the usual number of flashes going off and people being cajoled in for impromptu group photographs. Thomas, however, had acquired a glass of white wine and was simply watching, although he did stand when she came up next to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, careful that it didn't sound like a reprimand. "I thought you would be out visiting, not waiting for dinner." She took her seat, letting Joseph push the chair in so that it didn't muss her dress. She had done quite a bit of fussing to him about how difficult it was to move in it, and she was flattered that he seemed to have listened.

"What can I say, I'm hungry." He replied with an easy smile and a lift of his glass. "Besides, outside of Mrs. Branson, there's no one here I know that I don't already see at work nearly every day."

"I thought you might at least want to play with their little girl," Phyllis teased, giving him a sideways smile and looking for Sybbie among the crowd. "You certainly talk about her enough."

"Have you ever tried entertaining a six year old girl on an empty stomach?" he arched an eyebrow at her. "Or worse, one with an empty stomach?"

"Fair, I suppose," she allowed.

“I'm really quite flattered the Bransons made it," Joseph said, waving over one of the caterers circling the crowd with glasses of wine. "She may not go by Lady Sybil anymore, but it's an honour to have her."

"I'll remind you of that after Sybbie takes a handful out of the cake before it's even cut," Thomas replied, smirking into his glass.

That made Joseph pause. "Er, you don't think she really will, do you?"

"I wouldn't think so," Phyllis replied, turning down a glass of wine when the caterer offered. "She's precocious, but she seems like a well behaved little girl."

"No little girl stays well behaved when she's bored," Thomas argued philosophically. "Nor any little boy either. Just you wait, she'll get up to something, mark my words."

"Well her parents still have her outnumbered, so hopefully it won't be too bad," Phyllis reasoned, trying to keep Joseph from getting up and going to guard the cake personally, which he was looking like he might do. "Your parents never did."

"No, they didn't have the good sense to stop at one, did they?"

Phyllis frowned at him a little, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. At his mild, querying expression, she decided not to say anything. After all, perhaps he really had been referring to the difficulty of riding herd on four little ones at a time, rather than questioning his own existence. And if he really was depressed, he certainly didn't want her to know, so pressing wasn't a good idea. Still, there was an undertone to the observation she didn't quite like.

"Mrs. Molesley? Mr. Molesley?" their photographer stepped up to the table, catching Phyllis's attention. "I don't suppose I could get a shot, could I?"

"What, now?" Joseph blinked, looking from his glass to his plate. "We've not eaten anything."

The photographer gave him a highly amused look. "Do you really want a picture of the two of you with bits of lasagna all over your plate? Better to take one now while everything's clean and pretty looking."

"Good point, I suppose. Very well," straightening his tie, Joseph took his glass. "Er, what should we do?"

"Just lean together, raise you glasses, and smile," the woman replied, playing with one of her lenses. Then she looked at Phyllis and realized she didn't have a glass. "Oh. Or, hm..."

"Here," Thomas passed his still mostly full glass over. "It's just for a picture, right?"

"Right," the photographer beamed as Phyllis took the glass and, leaning into her husband, raised it. Thomas moved over another seat, getting himself well outside of the frame. "Wonderful, perfect. Hold that pose and..." there was a click and a flash of light. This was followed by the camera being turned at several angles, the lens adjusted, and three or four more flashes of light before the newlyweds were allowed to relax. "There. That'll look wonderful in the wedding book."

Thomas smirked and reclaimed his glass. "I hope you're planning on having copies of that wedding book made. All of the bridesmaids are going to want one."

"I suppose they will, won't they?" Joseph sighed. "Ah well. Hopefully it won't be too expensive."

Phyllis watched the photographer taking at least a dozen pictures of the cake from various angles, including having one of the groomsmen steady her as she got up on a chair, and wondered. "I suspect that will depend on how big it winds up being. She's taking an awful lot of pictures."

The observation seemed to somewhat worry her husband. "I thought all wedding photographers took a lot of pictures? I mean, surely we're not going to have all of those cake pictures in our book, are we? We only need one or two."

"Didn't you select the package that lets you decide what to use and what not?" Thomas asked, eyeing them sideways over the rim of his glass. Phyllis thought she detected a smirk to his tone.

"Yes," she answered hastily. Really, the worst was over. It was time to relax and have fun, not work themselves into a nervous state over the wedding photos. "Now that you mention it, I do remember doing that."

"Well the, you've nothing to worry about."

The conversation wandered to how nicely the ceremony had gone, what was on the menu (Thomas was pleased to hear it was prime rib rather than lasagna), and the plans for their honeymoon. Phyllis was much more excited about seeing Paris with Joseph than she'd been about going to Monte Carlo with Peter. Hearing him talk about the Louvre and Notre Dame alone was enough to make her wish she was already there.

Of course, there were other things she was looking forward to, as Thomas noted with a quietly wicked grin that confused her husband, but made her blush. Still, this time they weren't the most exciting thing and she couldn't help but think that was important.

Slowly the other members of the table took their places. It was about time for the food to be served when Mrs. Branson came past, looking somewhat worried. "Has anyone seen Sybbie?"

The question ran up and down the table with a resounding negative. "Have you tried by the cake?" Joseph asked. Clearly the emphasis that had been put on young girls and cake over the course of the evening had made an impression.

"Don't worry," she gave him a knowing smile. "Tom has stationed himself by it just in case." She sighed and looked around. "I'm certain she's just playing somewhere, but I'd like to find her before the food comes out."

"If not, I'm sure she'll come out when she realizes everyone's eating," Anna assured her.

"Oh, undoubtedly." With a sigh, the young mother moved off to the next table.

"You know, I used to think I wanted children," Joseph noted. "Now I'm starting to think I'm too old."

"Nonsense," Gwen laughed from Anna's far side. "I know people who have had children at your age. You'd make wonderful parents."

"Perhaps," Phyllis allowed. "But if we do decide to go that route, I think I'd just as soon adopt."

"Plenty of unwanted children in the world," Thomas agreed. Again, there was that note to his voice that suggested it was more than a simple observation. "And you've both good steady jobs. I'm sure you'd make good parents."

"Yes, well, it's something to talk about, in the future," Joseph allowed. "Although I'm all for getting through the honeymoon first."

"True," Thomas nodded sagely, his eyes fixed on a point just beyond his plate. "After all, depending on how things go, you might not need to adopt."

"Thomas Barrow!" Anna swatted his arm. "That is hardly polite."

"True though, isn't it?" Thomas noted with a smirk. Before anyone could react, his entire body did an odd jerking motion and a squeal of laughter erupted from under the table. "Got you!" he proclaimed, with a vicious grin.

"What on earth?" Joseph stared at the table cloth as if it were possessed, then at Thomas as if he were possessed, and back.

Pushing his chair back a little and lifting the fall of white cloth, Thomas revealed the source of the laughter: Sybbie Branson, trapped neatly between his legs. Looking up, he waved at the little girl's mother and called, "Sybil! I think this belongs to you!"

"No, no, let me go!" Sybbie protested, still laughing, trying to extract herself from his grip. Unfortunately for her years on his feet had given Thomas rather strong leg muscles, so the scissor trap held firm.

"Young lady, get out here," her mother scolded when she reached the table. "It's time for food."

"I don't want food – just cake!"

"Haven't you heard? You can't have cake if you don't eat your dinner first," Thomas informed her, reaching down and hauling her into his lap, clipping his head on the table as he did so. "Those are the rules of weddings."

Sybbie wasn't having any of it. "You're making that up!"

"No, he's not," Phyllis shook her head, fighting back a smile. The rest of the table was trying, and more or less failing, to keep a straight face. "That's a very important rule at weddings. It's so the delicious wedding food doesn't go to waste."

"And there's going to be all sorts of good things to eat besides cake," Joseph chimed in.

"Like what?"

"Come with Mummy and see," her mother instructed, holding out her hand. Thomas released the little girl, only to have her vanish under the table again and come out the other side. She shot straight past the offered hand toward where her father was standing.

“I get to sit next to Daddy!"

Mrs. Branson sighed and shook her head. "How Mama and Papa put up with three of us, I'll never know." With a long suffering, apologetic smile, she turned and headed toward her seat.

"Mmm, I think we should definitely get through the honeymoon before we discuss children," Phyllis gave Joseph a sideways, knowing grin. It wasn't that she was opposed to the idea entirely, just that she wasn't certain she was up to it any more than he was. "Maybe do some baby sitting before we make up our minds."

Once everyone was seated, Joseph stood up. "Good evening all," he started, wearing the hesitant, humble smile that Phyllis loved so much. "Thank you all for joining us tonight for this very special occasion. I know you're all hungry and we'd said no speeches, but I can't let this moment pass without saying a few words."

“Of course you can't."

"Thomas, shush."

Whether he missed the quietly hissed conversation from the bride's party or simply chose to ignore it, Joseph continued. "Growing up, I always assumed this day would come. Everyone was always talking about getting married and having a family and children. It seemed as inevitable as graduating school and getting a job. Just one of those things people did. I didn't even know I was looking forward to it until suddenly I was five years out of school, employed, and still single. I hadn't even really dated, being absorbed in my studies and all. By the time I was forty I'd decided that maybe it wasn't going to happen. It was one of those things like getting a career with a bachelor's in history." A small, but well meaning chuckle went through the assembly. "I gave up, and that may sound pathetic and whiny, but it's true, and in the end I'm glad I did." He looked down at Phyllis and his smile grew. "Because this day wouldn't mean half as much as it does if I were still young and taking it for granted. This love wouldn't be half as true, I don't think. And I'm not going to talk about how it's going to last forever or anything like that, because that would be taking it for granted as well and Phyllis? If there is one thing I never want to do, it's take you for granted. I want to be the man you deserve, and the man who deserves you, and that's not just going to happen. It's going to take a lot of effort, but I'm ready. I'm excited." He looked back out over the room. "And I am so very, very glad that you are all here to be a part of that. Thank you." He sat down to a round of applause, punctuated by an 'aw' here and there.

Smiling so broadly it hurt and fighting back tears, Phyllis leaned over and kissed his cheek. He took her hand, squeezing it, and then they both wound up blinking as every camera in the room flashed at them. Clearing her throat softly she suggested, "Maybe we should have some food."

"Er, yes, food. Food is a good idea."

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #modern au #phyllis baxter #joseph molesley #tom branson #sybil branson #sybbie branson #thomas barrow #anna bates #wedding reception #shenanigans

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theadmiringbog · 4 years

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We had one thing that Blockbuster did not: a culture that valued people over process, emphasized innovation over efficiency, and had very few controls.

The Netflix Culture Deck, a set of 127 slides originally intended for internal use but that Reed shared widely on the internet in 2009.

Quite apart from the question of whether it is ethical to fire hardworking employees who don’t manage to do extraordinary work, these slides struck me as pure bad management. They violate the principle that Harvard Business School professor Amy Edmondson calls “psychological safety.” In her 2018 book, The Fearless Organization, she explains that if you want to encourage innovation, you should develop an environment where people feel safe to dream, speak up, and take risks. The safer the atmosphere, the more innovation you will have.

Apparently, no one at Netflix read that book. Seek to hire the very best and then inject fear into your talented employees by telling them they’ll be thrown back out onto the “generous severance” scrap heap if they don’t excel? This sounded like a surefire way to kill any hope of innovation.

“Honesty sometimes” we can all get behind. But a blanket policy of “honesty always” sounds like a great way to break relationships, crush motivation, and create an unpleasant work environment. Overall, the Netflix Culture Deck struck me as hypermasculine, excessively confrontational, and downright aggressive—perhaps a reflection of the kind of company you might expect to be constructed by an engineer with a somewhat mechanistic, rationalist view of human nature.

Yet despite all this, one fact cannot be denied . . . NETFLIX HAS BEEN REMARKABLY SUCCESSFUL

If you give employees more freedom instead of developing processes to prevent them from exercising their own judgment, they will make better decisions and it’s easier to hold them accountable.

Steve Jobs said:

“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something—your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”

The point is to encourage people to question how the dots are connected. In most organizations, people join the dots the same way that everyone else does and always has done. This preserves the status quo. But one day someone comes along and connects the dots in a different way, which leads to an entirely different understanding of the world.

FIRST STEPS TO A CULTURE OF FREEDOM AND RESPONSIBILITY

First build up talent density . . .

1 ▶ A Great Workplace Is Stunning Colleagues

Then increase candor . . .

2 ▶ Say What You Really Think (with Positive Intent)

Now begin removing controls . . .

3a ▶ Remove Vacation Policy

3b ▶ Remove Travel and Expense Approvals

Talent density: Talented people make one another more effective

Every employee has some talent. When we’d been 120 people, we had some employees who were extremely talented and others who were mildly talented. Overall we had a fair amount of talent dispersed across the workforce. After the layoffs, with only the most talented eighty people, we had a smaller amount of talent overall, but the amount of talent per employee was greater. Our talent “density” had increased.

We learned that a company with really dense talent is a company everyone wants to work for. High performers especially thrive in environments where the overall talent density is high.

If you have a team of five stunning employees and two adequate ones, the adequate ones will sap managers’ energy, so they have less time for the top performers, reduce the quality of group discussions, lowering the team’s overall IQ, force others to develop ways to work around them, reducing efficiency, drive staff who seek excellence to quit, and show the team you accept mediocrity, thus multiplying the problem.

If you have a group with a few merely adequate performers, their performance is likely to spread, bringing down the performance of the entire organization.

A fast and innovative workplace is made up of what we call “stunning colleagues”—highly talented people, of diverse backgrounds and perspectives, who are exceptionally creative, accomplish significant amounts of important work, and collaborate effectively. What’s more, none of the other principles can work unless you have ensured this first dot is in place.

TAKEAWAYS FROM CHAPTER 1

Your number one goal as a leader is to develop a work environment consisting exclusively of stunning colleagues.

Stunning colleagues accomplish significant amounts of important work and are exceptionally creative and passionate.

Jerks, slackers, sweet people with nonstellar performance, or pessimists left on the team will bring down the performance of everyone.

At Netflix, it is tantamount to being disloyal to the company if you fail to speak up when you disagree with a colleague or have feedback that could be helpful. After all, you could help the business—but you are choosing not to.

If you would like to develop a culture of candor in your own organization or on your own team, you can take several steps. First, get employees to give candid feedback to the boss.

Your behavior while you’re getting the feedback is a critical factor. You must show the employee that it’s safe to give feedback by responding to all criticism with gratitude and, above all, by providing “belonging cues.” As Daniel Coyle, author of The Culture Code, describes them, such cues are gestures that indicate “your feedback makes you a more important member of this tribe” or “you were candid with me and that in no way puts your job or our relationship in danger; you belong here.”

Ted is not a typical media mogul. He didn’t finish college, and he acquired his film education working in Arizona video stores.

Giving Feedback

AIM TO ASSIST: Feedback must be given with positive intent. Giving feedback in order to get frustration off your chest, intentionally hurting the other person, or furthering your political agenda is not tolerated. Clearly explain how a specific behavior change will help the individual or the company, not how it will help you. “The way you pick your teeth in meetings with external partners is irritating” is wrong feedback. Right feedback would be, “If you stop picking your teeth in external partner meetings, the partners are more likely to see you as professional, and we’re more likely to build a strong relationship.”

ACTIONABLE: Your feedback must focus on what the recipient can do differently. Wrong feedback to me in Cuba would have been to stop at the comment, “Your presentation is undermining its own messages.” Right feedback was, “The way you ask the audience for input is resulting in only Americans participating.” Even better would have been: “If you can find a way to solicit contributions from other nationalities in the room your presentation will be more powerful.”

Receiving Feedback

APPRECIATE: Natural human inclination is to provide a defense or excuse when receiving criticism; we all reflexively seek to protect our egos and reputation. When you receive feedback, you need to fight this natural reaction and instead ask yourself, “How can I show appreciation for this feedback by listening carefully, considering the message with an open mind, and becoming neither defensive nor angry?”

ACCEPT OR DISCARD: You will receive lots of feedback from lots of people while at Netflix. You are required to listen and consider all feedback provided. You are not required to follow it. Say “thank you” with sincerity. But both you and the provider must understand that the decision to react to the feedback is entirely up to the recipient.

TAKEAWAYS FROM CHAPTER 2

With candor, high performers become outstanding performers.

Frequent candid feedback exponentially magnifies the speed and effectiveness of your team or workforce.

Set the stage for candor by building feedback moments into your regular meetings.

Coach your employees to give and receive feedback effectively, following the 4A guidelines.

As the leader, solicit feedback frequently and respond with belonging cues when you receive it.

Get rid of jerks as you instill a culture of candor.

SECTION TWO NEXT STEPS TO A CULTURE OF FREEDOM AND RESPONSIBILITY

Fortify talent density . . .

4 ▶ Pay Top of Personal Market Pump up candor . . .

5 ▶ Open the Books Now remove more controls . . .

6 ▶ No Decision-making Approvals Needed

In the coming section, we’ll take the process of implementing a culture of Freedom and Responsibility to a deeper level.

According to a study by Michael Slepian, a professor of management at Columbia Business School, the average person keeps thirteen secrets, five of which he or she has never shared with anyone else. A typical manager, I would suggest, has even more.

According to Slepian, if you are anything like an average person, there’s a 47 percent chance that one of your secrets involves a violation of trust, a 60-plus percent chance that it involves a lie or a financial impropriety, and a roughly 33 percent chance that it involves a theft, some sort of hidden relationship, or unhappiness at work.

SOS (Stuff Of Secrets) information at work might be things like the following:

You are considering a reorganization and people might lose their jobs.

You’ve fired an employee but explaining why would hurt his reputation.

You have “secret sauce”: information you don’t want to leak out to your competitors.

You made a mistake that could hurt your reputation, maybe ruin your career.

Two leaders are in conflict, and if their teams knew, it would lead to unrest.

Employees could go to jail if they share certain financial data with a friend.

TECHNIQUES TO REINFORCE A CULTURE OF FREEDOM AND RESPONSIBILITY

Max up talent density . . .

7 ▶ The Keeper Test Max up candor . . .

8 ▶ A Circle of Feedback And eliminate most controls . . . !

9 ▶ Lead with Context, Not Control

This section focuses on practical techniques you can implement in your team or organization in order to reinforce the concepts we’ve covered in the first two sections.

With our dispersed decision-making model, if you pick the very best people and they pick the very best people (and so on down the line) great things will happen. Ted calls this the “hierarchy of picking” and it’s what a workforce built on high talent density is all about.

To achieve the highest level of talent density you have to be prepared to make tough calls. If you’re serious about talent density, you have to get in the habit of doing something a lot harder: firing a good employee when you think you can get a great one.

One of the reasons this is so difficult in many companies is because business leaders are continually telling their employees, “We are a family.” But a high-talent-density work environment is not a family.

A FAMILY IS ABOUT STAYING TOGETHER REGARDLESS OF “PERFORMANCE”

A professional sports team is a good metaphor for high talent density because athletes on professional teams: Demand excellence, counting on the manager to make sure every position is filled by the best person at any given time. Train to win, expecting to receive candid and continuous feedback about how to up their game from the coach and from one another. Know effort isn’t enough, recognizing that, if they put in a B performance despite an A for effort, they will be thanked and respectfully swapped out for another player. On

WE ARE A TEAM, NOT A FAMILY

THE KEEPER TEST

To help managers on the judgment calls, we talk about the Keeper Test:

IF A PERSON ON YOUR TEAM WERE TO QUIT TOMORROW, WOULD YOU TRY TO CHANGE THEIR MIND? OR WOULD YOU ACCEPT THEIR RESIGNATION, PERHAPS WITH A LITTLE RELIEF? IF THE LATTER, YOU SHOULD GIVE THEM A SEVERANCE PACKAGE NOW, AND LOOK FOR A STAR, SOMEONE YOU WOULD FIGHT TO KEEP.

Leslie Kilgore was incredible for us as chief marketing officer, and she was instrumental in our culture, our battle with Blockbuster, and our growth overall. She was, and is, a great business thinker. But with House of Cards launching, and a future of marketing titles rather than making offers, I knew we needed someone with deep Hollywood studio experience, partially to make up for my own lack of showbiz knowledge. So I let go of Leslie, but she was willing to serve on our board, so she has become one of my bosses and has been a great company director for many years.

I tell my bosses, the board of directors, that I should be treated no differently. They shouldn’t have to wait for me to fail to replace me. They should replace me once they have a potential CEO who is likely to be more effective. I find it motivating that I have to play for my position every quarter, and I try to keep improving myself to stay ahead.

There is one Netflix guideline that, if practiced religiously, would force everyone to be either radically candid or radically quiet: “Only say about someone what you will say to their face.”

#No Rules Rules #books

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andrewuttaro · 6 years

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New Look Sabres: GM 60 - TBL - Fourida Part Two

One tweeter asked me a simple “Why?” when she saw I was doing New Look Sabres today for this game. Why continue to subject yourself to this while there are other entertainment mediums that aren’t going to make you feel sad? Why be so engaged to write a blog when the Sabres playoff chances according to MoneyPuck now sit way down at 5.2%? The answer to both those questions is really the same answer: the ride isn’t over until elimination and the love of this team is deeper than wins. Honestly, I would rather work on my soccer blog right now, but I made a commitment to this team and they’re not done yet so neither am I. And last night’s game wasn’t as bad as the three losses that preceded it. Somehow games against the best team in the league are close and they have been all season. We were very nearly the second team this season to win two against the Bolts. That’s kind of a big deal considering the Lightning are running away with the President’s Trophy. Like its shocking how good they are right now, that is, you know how they are but its still something amazing to watch as it happens. We didn’t join that special category with the Nashville Predators, but a lot did go right for the Sabres in this game. In the summation of Jeremy White this morning: they had an agitating, physical presence, they made good scoring chances, Jack and Dahlin (#26 scored the only Buffalo goal) were themselves and Carter Hutton was a strong backstop. Hutton had his best game in months, and he was only in because of Linus Ullmark needing a little time to rest a minor practice injury. While Buffalo did get caved in on the faceoff category, they kept the shots on goal close in two out of three periods (even though the shot attempts category is rather ugly) and never looked out of it, even in OT. Dahlin’s goal was an awesome slapper from the point and the whole defensive scheme this game was able to breakup scoring chances and limit a club with a seemingly endless well of scoring talent to rely on. I get that brief summation out of the way now because our traditional game recap is hardly worth it when this team needs to string together 4-5 wins in a row just to get back in the race. We have other fun Sabres stuff to talk about today! This game did yield a point however for Buffalo and it ended 2-1 in the shootout.

Wednesday, after yours truly got the New Look Sabres blog up for the other game Buffalo played in Florida this week, Paul Hamilton and other members of the media cornered GM Jason Botterill. We’ll get to how different outlets processed what he said and how that can teach you an important lesson about Buffalo Sports Media in a minute but first let’s just take apart what he said. JB answered questions for about ten minutes. He’s a good GM so most of the answers were nothing. He did say he did not expect the Sabres to make first place in the standings like they did back in November. That was a way of framing the freefall we’ve seen since. The answer that is really telling is his thoughts on Coach Phil Housley whom I have called to be fired a couple times now and has reached the point of parody accounts on twitter. My thoughts on him aside JB draws something of a line with his responses. For one, he says “I think the Coaching Staff has done a very good job.” That is a direct quote. Whether that’s true or not is not the point here. That’s a public vote of confidence for your bench boss and that signals what might be a certain strategy going forward. A little bit more of JB first: When confronted rather snidely by the Buffalo News’ Mike Harrington about how supposedly us fans are just about running Housley out of town at this point, Botterill says: “They want to see a Coaching Change? [Mike Harrington responds with a firm absolutely because he’s a presumptive ass] No, we’ve made progress in our organization compared to last year. We’re in a position where we’ve been in games. I see the results on the ice. I see the communication we’re going through. There is not going to be a Coaching change.”

First lesson of this: Mike Harrington is the last man standing from a now-past Buffalo News Hockey department that largely failed its readers in the last 5-8 years. Harrington is the worst of it and assuming he was speaking for all fans saying a coaching change is wanted epitomizes his arrogance about the job he’s holding onto there. Seek better sources and tell your out-of-town friends to do so as well. That said you’re reading one of the lesser bloggers out there right now, so my word only goes so far. Second lesson of this: publicly sticking by your Coach signals JB is not fooling around. He’s not going to cut Housley loose and that message, if and when it gets to the locker room says, “You guys are figuring this out.” JB sees what’s going on and while we all may be criticizing the coach, and rightfully so, that’s not the way this mess will be fixed as long as he’s the GM. It maybe in May or June but not February. It may be tough to look at the stats and see how this team is only so much better than last year, a year they finished dead last by the way, but this is the reality of being a Sabres fan right now. There is another deeper question there that the radio guys have taken on that I am going to save for a later date: What is the standard for this team? Silver lining for now: JB may give the club a little jolt at the trade deadline.

Botterill gave nothing answers on the Trade Deadline but the rumor mill in this late day leads one to believe he is working the phones. The Sabres were rumored to be in on Charlie Coyle, Carl Hagelin and even Jakob Silfverberg but all those guys have now been accounted for. Rumored interest in Kevin Hayes still persists but the big rumor that the crossed swords was somehow in on yesterday was Matt Duchene. Yes, THE Matt Duchene, the one who… along with Senators teammates Mark Stone and Ryan Dzingel (a whole line that is not that bad despite playing for Ottawa) is probably going to get moved. While we’ve seen potential Sabres acquisitions go off the market without Buffalo to this point, a Duchene move or any move of even half that magnitude is a vote of confidence by the GM we were just talking about for the guys in the room. Getting a guy that immediately improves this team is JB putting his money where his mouth is and potentially sending the message that winning and… dare I say it… playoffs matter for this club. That would not only give a lot more weight to his words on Wednesday, it would send a far more powerful message than the O’Reilly trade did. The merits of any such hypothetical trade aside, without a deadline move you’re leaning on a cast of characters who to this point lose against losers and almost win against winners to equal a grand total of Jack shit. For me, no deadline movement is the point I begin preparing for the Amerks playoff run and firing up the Soccer side of my sports watching life if you know what I mean.

It’s a Saturday Afternoon game against the Stanley Cup Champion Washington Capitals followed by a Monday Night game in Toronto for the Sabres now. Once again, it will take a win streak of 4-5 wins or more to get back into this race, but I am not going to predict that. I’ll just say if a deadline move is made in time for the new guy to make a difference in a game against the Leafs… oh you better believe that takes some heat off of this Front Office. I don’t want to say this team is completely dead-to-rights if a move isn’t made because then you might not like, comment and share this blog and I’d really like it if you did that; but the next 48-96 hours could put the final nail in the coffin of this season or inject it with whatever concoction was in those needles medics had in Battlefront V that make you spring back to life. Pay attention to this team right now if for no other reason than seeing which fate awaits them. I know I will: I’ll either be the loudest crier at the funeral or the most prolific medic in either event. Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. No seriously, I don’t care about relitigating the O’Reilly trade. Certainly, we didn’t get anywhere near O’Reilly’s talent back, but we knew that long before the trade happened! It was never about that! Please stop grilling past trades for the sake of undermining the GM. And please stop with revisionist history well you’re at it!

#buffalo sabres #hockey #blog #nhl

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