One day a few years ago as I was watching a rerun of Star Trek: The Next Generation, it suddenly struck me: Captain Jean-Luc Picard runs the Enterprise like a CEO runs a corporation. After that, I could never enjoy the show as much or in quite the same way as I had before. It began reminding me too much of work.

I am not sure what triggered this minor epiphany. When I began working in 1983, it was not in a conventional corporate environment. Although I had a supervisor, I rarely saw her in that role. There were no regular meetings, no status reports. We got together primarily for the obligatory biannual evaluation and obligatory pat on the back, and that was pretty much it.

As for teamwork, I was part of a tiny department, with two or three full-time people and one or two temporary employees. We had no team meetings and no formal discussions about the team, our processes, or our issues. We did our jobs, trying to stay on schedule so as not to cause problems for the next person. We had few of the trappings of a team and virtually no leadership, but perhaps that is why we were as cohesive a team as any that invests time and efforts in meetings, retreats, bonding, outings, and so forth.

So when Star Trek: The Next Generation debuted in 1987, I didn’t recognize the officers as a corporate-style team or Jean-Luc Picard as a CEO. Now I do.

Picard’s style of leadership marked a departure from that of James T. Kirk, whose command was more militaristic. Subordinates kept him informed and sometimes made recommendations; he made command decisions. On rare occasions, Kirk might call a meeting of the senior officers to talk about the situation, but much of the discussion seemed to be within his own mind, where often he seemed to have made his decision already. Sometimes, Spock, Dr. McCoy, or Scotty questioned his actions or followed his orders only reluctantly, but in most cases only when he would prove to be impaired in some way. Generally, his word was final. It was this combination of rapid internal weighing of the options and quick, incisive decision making that gives some fans the impression that Kirk was a better leader than Picard. For the 1960s, he may have been. But Picard was a 1990s kind of captain.

The bridge between styles may have been Spock. In “The Galileo Seven,” he made command decisions that his subordinates did not agree with, partly because to them the needs of the individual should carry as much weight as the needs of the many. The crew questioned Spock’s decisions and orders openly while Spock, who was not a natural leader, defended his logic and thereby exposed his weakness as a leader. In our society, leaders do not defend themselves or what they do.

At one point, Spock began to question his own choices, just as the crew did. Spock fails to achieve full leadership, while the crew does not gain true democracy.

The 1990s corporate dynamic of leadership culminated in Jean-Luc Picard, whose answer to nearly every crisis was to call a meeting of the senior staff. Fortunately, such crises announced themselves hours before a solution was needed, or the threatening aliens were courteous enough to allow a grace period long enough in which to hold a meeting, even an impromptu one. This gave Picard the opportunity to demand, “Options?” at which point Geordi, Data, Wesley, Worf, Crusher, or O’Brien came up with a technological or, less often, tactical solution. After a brief discussion of the risks and possible outcomes, Picard visibly weighed the ramifications and then said, “Make it so” or “Proceed” in his deepest, most decisive, and most authoritative tone.

Sometimes, two choices were proffered, and Picard had to make two decisions — to do something or to do nothing, and to use Officer A’s suggestion or Officer B’s idea. In at least one episode, “Cause and Effect,” he made the wrong choice not once, but several times,leading to the demise of the Enterprise over and over again. Only in an entertainment vehicle does a commander get to make the life-or-death error multiple times and still emerge with his ship and crew intact and unscathed.

In “Attached,” he and Dr. Crusher had to decide which way to go to escape. He paused for an instant. Then he said:

“This way.”
“You don’t really know, do you ?”
“What ?”
“I mean, you are acting like you know exactly which way to go, but you are only guessing. Do you do this all the time ?”
“No, but there are times when it is necessary for a captain to give the appearance of confidence.”

No, leaders do not always know what they are doing, or they do know but hope to evade the consequences (like the executives of Enron, Arthur Andersen, and so on and on and on).

The key to leadership lies not only in making good or correct decisions, both routinely and under duress. Many people are capable of consistently making good choices; I am, and so are you. Otherwise. more of us would be utter failures at managing the business of our own lives. (Yes, sometimes we do fail, but mostly we make good choices.)

But I am not, and do not wish to be, a leader. A strategist, yes; a leader, no. A leader’s intellect, ability, and personality combined inspire confidence and belief. People don’t argue with leaders because they fear them or what the leader can do to them; they don’t argue with leaders because they respect and trust them. Both Kirk and Picard, and every senior officer portrayed on their ships, had earned that respect and trust from the crew.

The corporate environment is not so different in its day-to-day operations. Of course, there is usually no threat of Romulan or Cardassian ships hanging off the starboard bow, and imminent danger to life. There are, however, bad leaders at all levels — those ho consistently make questionable decisions, and others who are neither respected nor trusted. They rise to their leadership position through their connections, self-marketing, ability to take credit for the ideas and work of others, and plain luck. Their lack of genuine leadership ability soon shows to everyone they fail to inspire or lead. At best, the organization muddles along, failing to thrive. At worst, it rots from the inside out.

It disappointed me to think of Picard as a CEO, but he is at least a CEO with a an adventurer’s heart and a poet’s soul. That is why I think I would respect and trust him, despite my inherent distrust of leaders and the very idea of leadership.

And that is why he is captain of the Enterprise, not the chairman of Federated Conglomeration of United Intergalactic Foods.

To serve with such a leader would be a challenge, a thrill, and an inspiration.

Instead, I work with what I have.

I’m not telling you anything you don’t know when I say that an amazing number of people are lacking in not-so-common sense and courtesy.

This is not a new observation or a sign of the times. My understanding is that the ancient Romans and Greeks were known to lament the lack of these qualities in their youth. Consternation at rudeness, particularly that of the young, is a time-honored tradition.

Still, displays of rudeness and lack of sense astound me, no matter the age of the offender.

Case in point #1: A woman in the bathroom at work, in a stall, sitting on a toilet, is holding a cell phone conversation. In a stall. Sitting on a toilet. Performing bodily functions, like you do in a stall on a toilet. While talking on her cell phone.

And then, mid-conversation, she flushes.

Several years ago on an AOL message board, I mentioned how rude this behavior seems to me, and how weird it seems to me that any sophisticated, educated person could consider this acceptable. To my surprise, then horror, several people disagreed. It was normal to them.

This may be why I communicate primarily by e-mail, instant messages, and snail mail. If you read my letter while you’re sitting on the toilet, at least I don’t need to know about it. Or experience the sound effects.

Case in point #2 (also cell phone related): My dentist has a sign posted in her waiting room about considerate/inconsiderate cell phone use. I thought this might refer to people talking loudly. I asked the hygienist, who seemed grateful that at least one person had read the sign. Volume is an issue, she said; for some reason, some people think they need to shout when using a cell phone. That isn’t the primary problem, however. They have had a number of patients who make and accept cell phone calls while getting their teeth examined, cleaned, or filled. The hygienist or dentist is supposed to stop what she is doing every time Suzy Patient wants to have a mundane conversation about where she is or what she is doing. To add proverbial insult to proverbial injury, the patients who do this are the most likely to have been late to the appointment.

If it were my dental practice, I’d confiscate the cell phones of known offenders at the door. If you behave like a child with no impulse control, I will treat you like one.

Case in point #3: As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve noticed that most people feel compelled to answer their cell phones, as though there were no other choice. When the phone rings (sings, chirps, meows, barks, whatever), I must answer no matter what — even if I am in a restaurant having lunch with a friend, who apparently does not deserve as much of my attention as my cell phone does; even if I am a cashier in the middle of checking out a customer; even if I am an office worker with whom others are trying to have a work-related discussion. Any cell phone call is worth interrupting whatever I was doing and putting off the person who is physically in front of me. These “can’t miss” conversations usually involve no more than, “Yeah, I’m at lunch. I got home around 9 last night. Where are you?” etc. Not exactly headline news at eleven.

Case in point #4: A driver is at an intersection with a green light, waiting for the pedestrians to cross before making a left turn onto a one-way street. The driver of the third care in the lane honks his horn. Again. Again and again. Soon, he’s lying on it. The pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk don’t look enthused about having their eardrums blasted. Even other drivers start looking askance at the impatient one. It is not clear what he wants, except perhaps for the driver in front to mow down, maim, and kill pedestrians who have the right of way in the interest of shaving five seconds off travel time. Finally, the light changes, the pedestrians stop, and when #3’s turn comes, he turns the corner with a squeal, almost on two wheels.

Maybe he was in a hurry to get home to relax. I would be, too, if everyone drove like that.

(I have written briefly on the golden rule before.)

“Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.” Matthew 7:12 (KJV)

I’m reading Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, and I keep returning to how much of what is called “emotional intelligence” is based on the golden rule and all the spiritual variations on it. I would not have men treat me with contempt, scream at me, or belittle me, but this is modus operandi for so many people with whom I have worked and dealt. The golden rule seems to be essential for a world as crowded, stressed, and overtaxed as ours has become, and yet it sometimes seems to be as endangered as the Micronesian kingfisher — dependent on men to decide to save it.

Saturday, in the course of one expedition to market, I saw three examples of what might be called emotional obliviousness. None of the individuals was doing anything harmful or openly negative; they simply had no idea of how their actions affected others — or perhaps that their actions affected others.

The first was a store employee. I asked him to retrieve a box that was too far back on a high shelf for me to reach. He asked if I wanted just one, and I said, “Yes.” He gave me one, I thanked him, and he left. What struck me after a few moments was that he didn’t think to pull the two or three remaining boxes to the front for the next person. It’s something I would have done instinctively, but it never occurred to him. As I said, this hurt no one, but it is a form of me-centered thoughtlessness that isn’t aware on a subconscious level of others and their needs.

Then there was the woman who came to the store with someone else and who was not shopping. It was a busy afternoon; the store was crowded; yet she would park herself in the middle of an aisle in such a way that no one could get around her without having to ask. She would gaze at shelves in a desultory way. At one point, she blocked two doors to a freezer case while three people waited for her to choose something; they didn’t know she was window shopping only. After a minute or more, she wandered off slowly; then the people behind her realized they had been waiting politely for no reason. She was simply unaware of what was obvious to me — the people around her and what they wanted.

I came back to my building with a full shopping cart and went in the back door. This double set of doors leads into a short hallway next to the fitness room. Spread inside the inner door and across the hallway, completely blocking it, were two women with two babies, putting their street clothes on over their bathing suits and fussing over the babies. They and their clothes, babies, blankets, and other paraphernalia were sprawled all over the hallway.

It does not seem to have occurred to them that they could have changed clothes and fussed over the babies in the pool/garden area, which is probably a half acre in size and which has chairs, tables, etc. More to the point, I and another resident came in through the door and couldn’t go anywhere because they were in the way. The other building resident stepped over them all carefully. That left me with my cart. One woman was on her cell phone (multitasking); the other finally noticed me and signaled to her friend, and they made a narrow path down which I had to struggle with the cart (with the one woman never pausing in her cell phone conversation). As with the others, I don’t think their behavior was meant to be malicious, but I cannot imagine the irritation they would have felt if someone had blocked their entrance way to dress.

Given the way people sometimes act, it’s perhaps best that all of us don’t follow the golden rule. Many people clearly don’t want to be treated well at all.

Some time ago I heard a man — whether businessman, public official, or politician, or all of these, I do not know — on television talking about offshore outsourcing and why it is good for the United States and her citizens. He contended that outsourcing frees Americans to do other, “better, more important” things.

I could not believe my ears. And I could not imagine that anyone viewing this would believe it, either.

The offshore outsourced jobs I’m most familiar with are technical support and customer service. Ten years ago, when I called or e-mailed my ISP for help with a problem, I would get a person located at the corporate office who would ask me good questions and resolve the problem or escalate it if warranted. Most of them seemed to be young, not necessarily educated, but knowledgeable about operating systems, Internet clients, and connectivity issues. Unless it was a system issue on the ISP’s end, most problems could be resolved in under five to ten minutes or in one or two e-mails. I would get a different person each time, and something of his or her personality would come through in the conversation whether it took place on the phone or by e-mail.

Now when I contact support, which I try to avoid doing, I receive scripted responses that do not take into account anything that I have actually said about the problem. For example, in OS 9 and lower for Macintosh, a standard problem-solving step is to rebuild the desktop file. I would contact support, now located halfway or more across the world, and find myself talking to “Kilroy.” (Outsourced employees are told to use American names so as to make the less cosmopolitan among us feel comfortable; I wondered if this particular young man had been reading comic books and if he knew that “Kilroy” isn’t really a typical American name.) I would tell “Kilroy” the problem and carefully go over the steps I had already taken to to resolve it — reboot, reboot with extensions off, rebuild the desktop file, etc. There would be a pause as he consulted his script. Invariably, “Kilroy” would say, “We are going to try to rebuild the desktop.” I could protest all that I liked that I had done so already without result, but “Kilroy” was not allowed to deviate from the script, which meant that I couldn’t, either. So I would go through the motions of rebuilding the desktop again.

Now when I need help I will go to a Usenet group or a mailing list first, which is most likely what many companies hope you will do. It means less effort and more money for them. Besides, communicators claim that the Internet, through vehicles such as blogs, has put power into the hands of the public, so that the public pulls the message from companies rather than companies pushing it, as in traditional top-down communications. The public can, therefore, apparently, provide itself with support.

So what happened to all those support people at headquarters, who were written up in company newsletters and whose accomplishments were touted online and in print communications to customers? I suppose that many, if not most, were fired or laid off. Maybe some went or returned to college, earned degrees, and moved on to “better” things, as the commentator wanted viewers to believe. Perhaps some discovered that any job for which they might be qualified was a candidate for outsourcing. Many would have, in time, moved on to better things on their own, as people do throughout their careers. But the next generation would not have the same opportunity for a good entry-level job that paid well and taught workplace and interpersonal skills. This move was not better for the individuals or for the vast, diverse group we call Americans; it was more efficient and cheaper for the companies, which no longer have to pay living wages or, worse, benefits like health care. It certainly was not better for customers.

In reality, it is not undesirable jobs that Americans don’t want to do that have been outsourced. there is a perception, real or not, that Americans see themselves as above cleaning toilets, but Americans have been and are willing to fill technical support and customer service positions — for a living wage.

Outsourcing goes beyond support and service. I realized this in the past month or so when I received three or four calls, clearly from offshore, from salespersons representing my bank and credit card provider, trying to convince me that I need identity theft protection. Did the television pundit mean to tell us that Americans can do better than to go into sales and telemarketing? Some people have sales in their blood. Even I was a telemarketer for the summer after college, before I found a permanent position. As an introvert, I didn’t like it, but I was very grateful for the opportunity — and, of course, the money. Now even telemarketing has been sent offshore. As an aside, telemarketing is as scripted as support. No matter what I said, the reader plunged ahead with his or her script until I hung up. I cannot imagine that this is an effective way to sell anything (unless the fear of identity theft is that prevalent and strong). It makes me want to re-evaluate my bank. After all, why should I wish to conduct business with an organization that treats neither employees nor customers with respect?*

That is why I find the idea that outsourcing “frees” Americans for “better, more important things” disingenuous and dishonest. The truth is that many jobs except direct-service ones do not have to be done on site and could be outsourced, e.g, technology, accounting, records and data processing, sales, marketing, programming, design, etc. Even copywriting and editing could be outsourced — and often is, to freelancers. Do Americans have “better, more important things” to do than to work at meaningful jobs and to receive pay for it?

Of course, the jobs of direct care providers such as physicians, nurses, dentists, optometrists, aides, assistants, and so forth cannot at this time be outsourced.

Nor can the jobs of the people who ask you if you want fries with that as they hand you your burger.

Until someone figures out how to completely automate the drive-through.

I feel “free” to do “better, more important things” already.

*To be fair, telemarketing has always been like this. Fifteen or twenty years ago, a call woke me up when I was suffering from a stomach virus. I answered; then, when I realized it was a sales call and also that getting up had produced another bout of nausea, I told the caller a half dozen times that I was sick and nauseated and that I needed to go. He continued on each time as though he had not heard me, never acknowledging what I had said or that I had even spoken. Finally I overcame my natural reluctance to be rude and hung up on him, mid-sentence. I have not hesitated to be rude since to persistent telemarketers who do not treat me like a person.

Lately, I’ve been reading even more complaints about cell phones. Cell phones at restaurants. Cell phones in public restrooms. Cell phones on buses. At concerts. At museums. At sporting events. At poolside. Cell phones everywhere.

Once a status symbol, cell phones have become almost as much a necessity as T-shirts, jeans, and clean underwear. I wonder why.

When I got my cell phone, I used it mainly to keep track of people I was meeting, or to let them know if I was going to be late. When I still had dial-up Internet, I used it at home when my phone was otherwise engaged. I don’t know of any reason why I would get into line at Subway and suddenly want to “reach out and touch someone.” Most of the time, I don’t have that much to say or a pressing need to say it right now. In front of dozens of strangers.

In the not-so-distant past, when we were restricted to land lines and the phone rang during dinner, the person who answered was instructed to “tell him we’re eating dinner. I’ll call him back later.” That was in the privacy of our own home, when we felt that finishing a meal sitting down was an important part of the ritual of eating. Now, whether we’re in a busy family restaurant or a fine dining venue, if the phone rings we feel compelled to answer it. Then we carry on a personal conversation within earshot of 20 people as though we are oblivious to them — as though we were in the privacy of our own home.

Before cordless phones became popular, it never seemed to occur to anyone to use their bathroom at home as a phone booth. Now, if you go into any public restroom, you’re likely to hear half a conversation — held over the sound of running water and various bodily functions. Once I walked into a restaurant bathroom and heard a woman speaking loudly. I waited for a response from the other stall, which I assumed was occupied, but none came. After a moment, I realized that the woman in the first stall had retreated to the bathroom to have what appeared to be a long, deep conversation on the phone about relationship issues. When she came out, she didn’t even notice me at the sink. I wondered if the person at the other end had enjoyed hearing my bodily functions.

On public transportation, there are people who call their friends to tell them, “I’m on the bus. It’s passing 35th Street. Nah. I saw her last night. I’m on my way home.” Or to describe every detail of their work day, often with much profanity, as though there weren’t 15 people nearby who can’t help but hear it all. Sometimes the conversations are so painfully mundane that I can’t help wondering about the quantities of energy expended upon so little. “She got her car fixed Tuesday . . . No, it was the computer . . . Well, she’s had it three years . . . I don’t know.” At this point, I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s amazing that the human brain, capable of inventing the technology behind wireless communications, often has so little to communicate and yet so great a need.

Do you remember when teenage girls would take calls on the living room phone, and, glaring at the rest of the family, who were pretending not to listen but who were paying close attention to every word, would say, “Do you mind?” Such girls would plead for their own phones in their own rooms so they could have some privacy to discuss their lives and loves. Now you’ll find them in coffee shops, at juice bars and malls, and on the street, gossiping with their girlfriends and billing and cooing with their would-be lovers, with no regard for privacy. As long as the listeners aren’t prying relatives, it must not matter.

Of course, cell phones give the “Bickersons” even more opportunities to fight in front of an even greater audience. These are those couples we all know who can’t carry on a conversation without getting in a few dozen digs at one another and making everyone around them uncomfortable. Now everyone can listen to, “That’s not what I said . . . You said you weren’t busy Friday night . . . How was I supposed to know? . . . Well, you should have thought of that . . . You always do this . . .”

Are we so extroverted as a species that we have to have an audience for every thought? Are we so insecure that we need to have every feeling validated immediately or that we must act out every personal drama publicly?

Or is our dependence on cell phones, the Internet, gaming, iPods, and other marvels of everyday life one symptom of a mass variation of AD/HD? “Typically children with AD/HD have developmentally inappropriate behavior, including poor attention skills, impulsivity, and hyperactivity.”

We are a generation, or two, afflicted with the “fidgets.” People can’t focus on on doing one thing at a time. We can’t sit still on a bus or in a restaurant without finding something else to do. We can’t drive a car — a function that should require all of our attention — without eating, drinking, singing to the radio, playing air guitar, putting on makeup, shaving, or talking on a cell phone. We can’t eat a meal, even in the company of others, without talking on a cell phone. We can’t walk down a sidewalk without talking on a cell phone. We can’t read a magazine on the bus without talking on a cell phone. We can’t even perform the basic bodily functions without reading and/or talking on a cell phone. The moment the body or mind is engaged with one task, simple or complex, it seems to seek out additional ones. Despite the popularity of tai chi, yoga, meditation, and similar disciplines, we fear introspection. We do not want to be alone and vulnerable to the power of thought, an interesting concern on an overcrowded planet of 6.5 billion people. We seem to be afraid of quiet and stillness, of not doing anything.

I do wonder if this is our newest way of being alive and connected. Our sedentary, indoor lifestyles have severed our connection with the life of the earth. To know what it is to sweat, we go to a gym, where we watch television and listen to music on our iPods. The senses that were once stimulated by the activities of survival and life are now stifled by our climate-controlled environments or overwhelmed by the noise of crowds and traffic. To sit still with nothing to do is too much like death, too much like being alone in a crowded world.

Or perhaps we talk all the time, everywhere, on our cell phones simply because we can.