Organization Performance Essay -- Business, The Roles of Managers

Organisational Performance. The term organisation performance relates to the past, present and future-projected performance of an organisation, thus, the performance of an organisation comprises the actual output measured against the intended outputs (Goals and Objectives). The role of managers is to ensure that the performance of the organisation is aligned with attaining the goals and objectives of the organisation, by taking necessary steps to ensure that the work (outputs) of an organisation are also aligned with the overall objectives and goals. Organisation Managers’ sets and projects target that are designed or aim to achieving the objectives that are aligned with the mission of the organisations. This also acts as guidance to staffs, which provides the staffs the sense of direction of the organisation. The Performance targets are set/ compare against previous past performances achievement. In order for performance target to be attained, it must be realistic and achievable. Mann (2002) suggested that the key to long term success is having and communicating a clear vision, mission and strategy. Target setting must be specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and time bound with acronym; SMART. Performance indicators are tools device used by organisations to measure how well they are performing in relation to their goals and objectives, thus also provides understanding and indicator to organisations stakeholder on how organisation is in track with achieving its target. Acronym KPI; (key performance indicator) are represented in percentages, often used to express and numeric representation of the organisational performance, thus enables a comparison of attained targets and future target setting. Whilst KPI is an eff... ...alysis of this argument indicates that Strategy can also be derived form actions and reactions of everyone within the organisation. The role of Police environment managers and including the SPCP units’ managers’ primary role are to formulate and implement the predetermined force strategy. Individuality of each managers and external factors can influence the leadership style of individual managers. Organisational managers are individual with recognised authorities, authorized to formulate, delegate and implement existing strategy of an organisation, in order to achieve the objectives of the organisation, the Managers must be competent and motivated in their role, in order to motivate others. The managers of the SPCP units’ steers and direct the staffs within towards achieving the objectives of the Strathclyde Police force objectives of making communities safer. Organization Performance Essay -- Business, The Roles of Managers Organisational Performance. The term organisation performance relates to the past, present and future-projected performance of an organisation, thus, the performance of an organisation comprises the actual output measured against the intended outputs (Goals and Objectives). The role of managers is to ensure that the performance of the organisation is aligned with attaining the goals and objectives of the organisation, by taking necessary steps to ensure that the work (outputs) of an organisation are also aligned with the overall objectives and goals. Organisation Managers’ sets and projects target that are designed or aim to achieving the objectives that are aligned with the mission of the organisations. This also acts as guidance to staffs, which provides the staffs the sense of direction of the organisation. The Performance targets are set/ compare against previous past performances achievement. In order for performance target to be attained, it must be realistic and achievable. Mann (2002) suggested that the key to long term success is having and communicating a clear vision, mission and strategy. Target setting must be specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and time bound with acronym; SMART. Performance indicators are tools device used by organisations to measure how well they are performing in relation to their goals and objectives, thus also provides understanding and indicator to organisations stakeholder on how organisation is in track with achieving its target. Acronym KPI; (key performance indicator) are represented in percentages, often used to express and numeric representation of the organisational performance, thus enables a comparison of attained targets and future target setting. Whilst KPI is an eff... ...alysis of this argument indicates that Strategy can also be derived form actions and reactions of everyone within the organisation. The role of Police environment managers and including the SPCP units’ managers’ primary role are to formulate and implement the predetermined force strategy. Individuality of each managers and external factors can influence the leadership style of individual managers. Organisational managers are individual with recognised authorities, authorized to formulate, delegate and implement existing strategy of an organisation, in order to achieve the objectives of the organisation, the Managers must be competent and motivated in their role, in order to motivate others. The managers of the SPCP units’ steers and direct the staffs within towards achieving the objectives of the Strathclyde Police force objectives of making communities safer.

Organizational Structures that are Suitable in the Business Circumstances Today :: Papers

Organizational Structures that are Suitable in the Business Circumstances Today The world today is experiencing the most rapid pace of change in its history. The purpose of this essay is to discuss what organizational structure is suitable in the business circumstances of today. This essay will argue that ‘the environment of the 21st century is such, that to be effective, organizations are tending towards less formalized structures than used in the past’. To support this argument, firstly organizations will be defined, and then the properties that make an organization effective will be identified. Next organizational structure will be appraised, and what constitutes business environment will be established. Finally the influences globalisation and technology have had on the will be addressed in relation to changes in organizational structure. Robbins et al. define an organization as ‘a deliberate arrangement of people to accomplish some specific purpose’ (2000: 5). While Wood et al. consider organizations as ‘collections of people working together in divisions of labour to achieve a common purpose’ (1998: 15). These definitions fits a wide variety of groups such as sporting clubs, religious bodies, voluntary associations etcetera however for this essay will concentrate on business organizations. A Business organizations’ purpose is to deliver and product or service in such a way that a benefit is gained for the organization, profit or goodwill for example. The Macquarie dictionary is defines effective as ‘producing the intended or expected result and producing a striking impression’ (1990). Thus an effective organization is an arrangement of people that successfully achieved their purpose, ie. a large profit of fine product, and have done so in a noteworthy, exemplary, commendable method or fashion. It is understood that to be effective an organization must be efficient. Efficiency is defined as ‘the relationship between inputs and outputs, the goal of which is to minimize resource cost’ (Robbins et al., 2000: 8). Usually a business organizations’ success is primarily measured in financial profit, though this is not the only benchmark. Organizational structure is defined as ‘the organization’s formal framework by which job tasks are divided, grouped and coordinated’ (Robbins et al., 2000: 351). Generally an organizations’ structure is considered to be the managerial framework that directs the non-managerial employees. Traditionally western organizational structure can be argued to have developed from the feudal system of government where a strict pyramidal power and class structure existed.

The World of Sweatshops Essay -- Informative Essays

It is close to 100 degrees; it has been at least ten hours since the last break. The woman working next to you severed her finger on the machine today, and the wage for one day of working will not be enough to buy a decent meal. How thrilling does it sound to work in a sweatshop? This is the only option for most women and children working in the third world, to support their family’s needs. There is very little, if anything being done to resolve this shocking situation. No person should be exposed to this type of work atmosphere. Sweatshops are inhumane working environments. Women and children are most often the ones affected by the cruelty of sweatshops. Child laborers in most countries serve to support their families to maintain the ordinary standard of living (Hartman). In third world countries, it is, in a sense, customary for children to do the bulk of the work to support their families. Women and children had to work in sweatshops to support their families (Olson, Wladaver-Morgan 525). When families immigrated to the United States, there were not many jobs to be had; their only choice for survival was for the women and the children of the family to work in sweatshops for bare minimum wages. Women and children are most closely associated with the abuses of sweatshops. Wages for women and children in sweatshops are far from reasonable. Women and children always seem to suffer the worst effects in this work industry. According to Enderle, â€Å"Firms that practice child labor tend to stunt the children’s growth and they preclude their developing and rudimentary skills learned in grade school so they can get decent jobs when they are adults and lead fulfilling lives† (274). Children that are working in sweatshops are not de... ...ed a â€Å"real† solution, but chances of this are slim. Works Cited Enderle, Georges. International Business Ethics. Notre Dame, Indiana: The University of Notre Dame Press. 1999. Hartman, Laura Pincus. â€Å"The Ethical Challenge of Global Labor Standards.† Journal of Employment Discrimination Law 2.1 (winter 2000) 77. Business Source Premier. EBSCO. Roesch Library, Dayton. 16 Oct. 2002. . Moran, Theodore H. Beyond Sweatshops. Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2002. Olson, James S., and Susan Wladaver-Morgan. Dictionary of United States Economic History. Westport, CN: Greenwood Press, 1992. 523-524. Wangel, Arne. â€Å"Work Hazards and Safety Organization in the Third World.† Acta Sociologica 31.4 (1988) 343-349. Business Source Premier. EBSCO. Roesch Library, Dayton. 16 Oct. 2002. .

Bag of Bones CHAPTER ELEVEN

I woke in the early hours of the following morning convinced that there was someone in the north bedroom with me. I sat up against the pillows, rubbed my eyes, and saw a dark, shouldery shape standing between me and the window. ‘Who are you?' I asked, thinking that it wouldn't reply in words; it would, instead, thump on the wall. Once for yes, twice for no what's on your mind, Houdini? But the figure standing by the window made no reply at all. I groped up, found the string hanging from the light over the bed, and yanked it. My mouth was turned down in a grimace, my midsection tensed so tight it felt as if bullets would have bounced off. ‘Oh shit,' I said. ‘Fuck me til I cry.' Dangling from a hanger I'd hooked over the curtain rod was my old suede jacket. I'd parked it there while unpacking and had then forgotten to store it away in the closet. I tried to laugh and couldn't. At three in the morning it just didn't seem that funny. I turned off the light and lay back down with my eyes open, waiting for Bunter's bell to ring or the childish sobbing to start. I was still listening when I fell asleep. Seven hours or so later, as I was getting ready to go out to Jo's studio and see if the plastic owls were in the storage area, where I hadn't checked the day before, a late-model Ford rolled down my driveway and stopped nose to nose with my Chevy. I had gotten as far as the short path between the house and the studio, but now I came back. The day was hot and breathless, and I was wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off jeans and plastic flip-flops on my feet. Jo always claimed that the Cleveland style of dressing divided itself naturally into two subgenres: Full Cleveland and Cleveland Casual. My visitor that Tuesday morning was wearing Cleveland Casual you had your Hawaiian shirt with pineapples and monkeys, your tan slacks from Banana Republic, your white loafers. Socks are optional, but white footgear is a necessary part of the Cleveland look, as is at least one piece of gaudy gold jewelry. This fellow was totally okay in the latter department: he had a Rolex on one wrist and a gold-link chain around his neck. The tail of his shirt was out, and there was a suspicious lump at the back. It was either a gun or a beeper and looked too big to be a beeper. I glanced at the car again. Blackwall tires. And on the dashboard, oh look at this, a covered blue bubble. The better to creep up on you unsuspected, Gramma. ‘Michael Noonan?' He was handsome in a way that would be attractive to certain women the kind who cringe when anybody in their immediate vicinity raises his voice, the kind who rarely call the police when things go wrong at home because, on some miserable secret level, they believe they deserve things to go wrong at home. Wrong things that result in black eyes, dislocated elbows, the occasional cigarette burn on the booby. These are women who more often than not call their husbands or lovers daddy, as in ‘Can I bring you a beer, daddy?' or ‘Did you have a hard day at work, daddy?' ‘Yes, I'm Michael Noonan. How can I help you?' This version of daddy turned, bent, and grabbed something from the litter of paperwork on the passenger side of the front seat. Beneath the dash, a two-way radio squawked once, briefly, and fell silent. He turned back to me with a long, buff-colored folder in one hand. Held it out. ‘This is yours.' When I didn't take it, he stepped forward and tried to poke it into one of my palms, which would presumably cause me to close my fingers in a kind of reflex. Instead I raised both hands to shoulder-level, as if he had just told me to put em up, Muggsy. He looked at me patiently, his face as Irish as the Arlen brothers' but without the Arlen look of kindness, openness, and curiosity. What was there in place of those things was a species of sour amusement, as if he'd seen all of the world's pissier behavior, most of it twice. One of his eyebrows had been split open a long time ago, and his cheeks had that reddish windburned look that indicates either ruddy good health or a deep interest in grain-alcohol products. He looked like he could knock you into the gutter and then sit on you to keep you there. I been good, daddy, get off me, don't be mean. ‘Don't make this tough. You're gonna take service of this and we both know it, so don't make this tough.' ‘Show me some ID first.' He sighed, rolled his eyes, then reached into one of his shirt pockets. He brought out a leather folder and flipped it open. There was a badge and a photo ID. My new friend was George Footman, Deputy Sheriff, Castle County. The photo was flat and shadowless, like something an assault victim would see in a mugbook. ‘Okay?' he asked. I took the buff-backed document when he held it out again. He stood there, broadcasting that sense of curdled amusement as I scanned it. I had been subpoenaed to appear in the Castle Rock office of Elmer Durgin, Attorney-at-Law, at ten o'clock on the morning of July 10, 1998 Friday, in other words. Said Elmer Durgin had been appointed guardian ad litem of Kyra Elizabeth Devore, a minor child. He would take a deposition from me concerning any knowledge I might have of Kyra Elizabeth Devore in regard to her well-being. This deposition would be taken on behalf of Castle County Superior Court and Judge Noble Rancourt. A stenographer would be present. I was assured that this was the court's depo, and nothing to do with either Plaintiff or Defendant. Footman said, ‘It's my job to remind you of the penalties should you fail ‘ ‘Thanks, but let's just assume you told me all about those, okay? I'll be there.' I made shooing gestures at his car. I felt deeply disgusted . . . and I felt interfered with. I had never been served with a process before, and I didn't care for it. He went back to his car, started to swing in, then stopped with one hairy arm hung over the top of the open door. His Rolex gleamed in the hazy sunlight. ‘Let me give you a piece of advice,' he said, and that was enough to tell me anything else I needed to know about the guy. ‘Don't fuck with Mr. Devore.' ‘Or he'll squash me like a bug,' I said. ‘Huh?' ‘Your actual lines are, ‘Let me give you a piece of advice don't fuck with Mr. Devore or he'll squash you like a bug.† I could see by his expression half past perplexed, going on angry that he had meant to say something very much like that. Obviously we'd seen the same movies, including all those in which Robert De Niro plays a psycho. Then his face cleared. ‘Oh sure, you're the writer,' he said. ‘That's what they tell me.' ‘You can say stuff like that 'cause you're a writer.' ‘Well, it's a free country, isn't it?' ‘Ain't you a smartass, now.' ‘How long have you been working for Max Devore, Deputy? And does the County Sheriffs office know you're moonlighting?' ‘They know. It's not a problem. You're the one that might have the problem, Mr. Smartass Writer.' I decided it was time to quit this before we descended to the kaka-poopie stage of name-calling. ‘Get out of my driveway, please, Deputy.' He looked at me a moment longer, obviously searching for that perfect capper line and not finding it. He needed a Mr. Smartass Writer to help him, that was all. ‘I'll be looking for you on Friday,' he said. ‘Does that mean you're going to buy me lunch? Don't worry, I'm a fairly cheap date.' His reddish cheeks darkened a degree further, and I could see what they were going to look like when he was sixty, if he didn't lay off the firewater in the meantime. He got back into his Ford and reversed up my driveway hard enough to make his tires holler. I stood where I was, watching him go. Once he was headed back out Lane Forty-two to the highway, I went into the house. It occurred to me that Deputy Footman's extracurricular job must pay well, if he could afford a Rolex. On the other hand, maybe it was a knockoff. Settle down, Michael, Jo's voice advised. The red rag is gone now, no one's waving anything in front of you, so just settle I shut her voice out. I didn't want to settle down; I wanted to settle up. I had been interfered with. I walked over to the hall desk where Jo and I had always kept our pending documents (and our desk calendars, now that I thought about it), and tacked the summons to the bulletin board by one corner of its buff-colored jacket. With that much accomplished, I raised my fist in front of my eyes, looked at the wedding ring on it for a moment, then slammed it against the wall beside the bookcase. I did it hard enough to make an entire row of paperbacks jump. I thought about Mattie Devore's baggy shorts and Kmart smock, then about her father-in-law paying four and a quarter million dollars for Warrington's. Writing a personal goddamned check. I thought about Bill Dean saying that one way or another, that little girl was going to grow up in California. I walked back and forth through the house, still simmering, and finally ended up in front of the fridge. The circle of magnets was the same, but the letters inside had changed. Instead of hello they now read help r ‘Helper?' I said, and as soon as I heard the word out loud, I understood. The letters on the fridge consisted of only a single alphabet (no, not even that, I saw; g and x had been lost someplace), and I'd have to get more. If the front of my Kenmore was going to become a Ouija board, I'd need a good supply of letters. Especially vowels. In the meantime, I moved the h and the e in front of the r. Now the message read lp her I scattered the circle of fruit and vegetable magnets with my palm, spread the letters, and resumed pacing. I had made a decision not to get between Devore and his daughter-in-law, but I'd wound up between them anyway. A deputy in Cleveland clothing had shown up in my driveway, complicating a life that already had its problems . . . and scaring me a little in the bargain. But at least it was a fear of something I could see and understand. All at once I decided I wanted to do more with the summer than worry about ghosts, crying kids, and what my wife had been up to four or five years ago . . . if, in fact, she had been up to anything. I couldn't write books, but that didn't mean I had to pick scabs. Help her. I decided I would at least try. ‘Harold Oblowski Literary Agency.' ‘Come to Belize with me, Nola,' I said. ‘I need you. We'll make beautiful love at midnight, when the full moon turns the beach to a bone.' ‘Hello, Mr. Noonan,' she said. No sense of humor had Nola. No sense of romance, either. In some ways that made her perfect for the Oblowski Agency. ‘Would you like to speak to Harold?' ‘If he's in.' ‘He is. Please hold.' One nice thing about being a best selling author even one whose books only appear, as a general rule, on lists that go to fifteen is that your agent almost always happens to be in. Another is if he's vacationing on Nantucket, he'll be in to you there. A third is that the time you spend on hold is usually quite short. ‘Mike!' he cried. ‘How's the lake? I thought about you all weekend!' Yeah, I thought, and pigs will whistle. ‘Things are fine in general but shitty in one particular, Harold. I need to talk to a lawyer. I thought first about calling Ward Hankins for a recommendation, but then I decided I wanted somebody a little more high-powered than Ward was likely to know. Someone with filed teeth and a taste for human flesh would be nice.' This time Harold didn't bother with the long-pause routine. ‘What's up, Mike? Are you in trouble?' Thump once for yes, twice for no, I thought, and for one wild moment thought of actually doing just that. I remembered finishing Christy Brown's memoir, Down All the Days, and wondering what it would be like to write an entire book with the pen grasped between the toes of your left foot. Now I wondered what it would be like to go through eternity with no way to communicate but rapping on the cellar wall. And even then only certain people would be able to hear and understand you . . . and only those certain people at certain times. Jo, was it you? And if it was, why did you answer both ways? ‘Mike? Are you there?' ‘Yes. This isn't really my trouble, Harold, so cool your jets. I do have a problem, though. Your main guy is Goldacre, right?' ‘Right. I'll call him right aw ‘ ‘But he deals primarily with contracts law.' I was thinking out loud now, and when I paused, Harold didn't fill it. Sometimes he's an all-right guy. Most times, really. ‘Call him for me anyway, would you? Tell him I need to talk to an attorney with a good working knowledge of child-custody law. Have him put me in touch with the best one who's free to take a case immediately. One who can be in court with me Friday, if that's necessary.' ‘Is it paternity?' he asked, sounding both respectful and afraid. ‘No, custody.' I thought about telling him to get the whole story from the Lawyer to Be Named Later, but Harold deserved better . . . and would demand to hear my version sooner or later anyway, no matter what the lawyer told him. I gave him an account of my Fourth of July morning and its aftermath. I stuck with the Devores, mentioning nothing about voices, crying children, or thumps in the dark. Harold only interrupted once, and that was when he realized who the villain of the piece was. ‘You're asking for trouble,' he said. ‘You know that, don't you?' ‘I'm in for a certain measure of it in any case,' I said. ‘I've decided I want to dish out a little as well, that's all.' ‘You will not have the peace and quiet that a writer needs to do his best work,' Harold said in an amusingly prim voice. I wondered what the reaction would be if I said that was okay, I hadn't written anything more riveting than a grocery list since Jo died, and maybe this would stir me up a little. But I didn't. Never let em see you sweat, the Noonan clan's motto. Someone should carve DON'T WORRY I'M FINE on the door of the family crypt. Then I thought: help r. ‘That young woman needs a friend,' I said, ‘and Jo would have wanted me to be one to her. Jo didn't like it when the little folks got stepped on.' ‘You think?' ‘Yeah.' ‘Okay, I'll see who I can find. And Mike . . . do you want me to come up on Friday for this depo?' ‘No.' It came out sounding needlessly abrupt and was followed by a silence that seemed not calculated but hurt. ‘Listen, Harold, my caretaker said the actual custody hearing is scheduled soon. If it happens and you still want to come up, I'll give you a call. I can always use your moral support you know that.' ‘In my case it's immoral support,' he replied, but he sounded cheery again. We said goodbye. I walked back to the fridge and looked at the magnets. They were still scattered hell to breakfast, and that was sort of a relief. Even the spirits must have to rest sometimes. I took the cordless phone, went out onto the deck, and plonked down in the chair where I'd been on the night of the Fourth, when Devore called. Even after my visit from ‘daddy,' I could still hardly believe that conversation. Devore had called me a liar; I had told him to stick my telephone number up his ass. We were off to a great start as neighbors. I pulled the chair a little closer to the edge of the deck, which dropped a giddy forty feet or so to the slope between Sara's backside and the lake. I looked for the green woman I'd seen while swimming, telling myself not to be a dope things like that you can see only from one angle, stand even ten feet off to one side or the other and there's nothing to look at. But this was apparently a case of the exception's proving the rule. I was both amused and a little uneasy to realize that the birch down there by The Street looked like a woman from the land side as well as from the lake. Some of it was due to the pine just behind it that bare branch jutting off to the north like a bony pointing arm but not all of it. From back here the birch's white limbs and narrow leaves still made a woman's shape, and when the wind shook the lower levels of the tree, the green and silver swirled like long skirts. I had said no to Harold's well-meant offer to come up almost before it was fully articulated, and as I looked at the tree-woman, rather ghostly in her own right, I knew why: Harold was loud, Harold was insensitive to nuance, Harold might frighten off whatever was here. I didn't want that. I was scared, yes standing on those dark cellar stairs and listening to the thumps from just below me, I had been fucking terrified but I had also felt fully alive for the first time in years. I was touching something in Sara that was entirely beyond my experience, and it fascinated me. The cordless phone rang in my lap, making me jump. I grabbed it, expecting Max Devore or perhaps Footman, his overgolded minion. It turned out to be a lawyer named John Storrow, who sounded as if he might have graduated from law school fairly recently like last week. Still, he worked for the firm of Avery, McLain, and Bernstein on Park Avenue, and Park Avenue is a pretty good address for a lawyer, even one who still has a few of his milk-teeth. If Henry Goldacre said Storrow was good, he probably was. And his specialty was custody law. ‘Now tell me what's happening up there,' he said when the introductions were over and the background had been sketched in. I did my best, feeling my spirits rise a little as the tale wound on. There's something oddly comforting about talking to a legal guy once the billable-hours clock has started running; you have passed the magical point at which a lawyer becomes your lawyer. Your lawyer is warm, your lawyer is sympathetic, your lawyer makes notes on a yellow pad and nods in all the right places. Most of the questions your lawyer asks are questions you can answer. And if you can't, your lawyer will help you find a way to do so, by God. Your lawyer is always on your side. Your enemies are his enemies. To him you are never shit but always Shinola. When I had finished, John Storrow said: ‘Wow. I'm surprised the papers haven't gotten hold of this.' ‘That never occurred to me.' But I could see his point. The Devore family saga wasn't for the New York Times or Boston Globe, probably not even for the Derry News, but in weekly supermarket tabs like The National Enquirer or Inside View, it would fit like a glove instead of the girl, King Kong decides to snatch the girl's innocent child and carry it with him to the top of the Empire State Building. Oh, eek, unhand that baby, you brute. It wasn't front-page stuff, no blood or celebrity morgue shots, but as a page nine shouter it would do nicely. In my mind I composed a headline blaring over side-by-side pix of Warrington's Lodge and Mattie's rusty doublewide: COMPU-KING LIVES IN SPLENDOR AS HE TRIES TO TAKE YOUNG BEAUTY'S ONLY CHILD. Probably too long, I decided. I wasn't writing anymore and still I needed an editor. That was pretty sad when you stopped to think about it. ‘Perhaps at some point we'll see that they do get the story,' Storrow said in a musing tone. I realized that this was a man I could grow attached to, at least in my present angry mood. He grew brisker. ‘Who'm I representing here, Mr. Noonan? You or the young lady? I vote for the young lady.' ‘The young lady doesn't even know I've called you. She may think I've taken a bit too much on myself. She may, in fact, give me the rough side of her tongue.' ‘Why would she do that?' ‘Because she's a Yankee a Maine Yankee, the worst kind. On a given day, they can make the Irish look logical.' ‘Perhaps, but she's the one with the target pinned to her shirt. I suggest that you call and tell her that.' I promised I would. It wasn't a hard promise to make, either. I'd known I'd have to be in touch with her ever since I had accepted the summons from Deputy Footman. ‘And who stands for Michael Noonan come Friday morning?' Storrow laughed dryly. ‘I'll find someone local to do that. He'll go into this Durgin's office with you, sit quietly with his briefcase on his lap, and listen. I may be in town by that point I won't know until I talk to Ms. Devore but I won't be in Durgin's office. When the custody hearing comes around, though, you'll see my face in the place.' ‘All right, good. Call me with the name of my new lawyer. My other new lawyer.' ‘Uh-huh. In the meantime, talk to the young lady. Get me a job.' ‘I'll try.' ‘Also try to stay visible if you're with her,' he said. ‘If we give the bad guys room to get nasty, they'll get nasty. There's nothing like that between you, is there? Nothing nasty? Sorry to have to ask, but I do have to ask.' ‘No,' I said. ‘It's been quite some time since I've been up to anything nasty with anyone.' ‘I'm tempted to commiserate, Mr. Noonan, but under the circumstances ‘ ‘Mike. Make it Mike.' ‘Good. I like that. And I'm John. People are going to talk about your involvement anyway. You know that, don't you?' ‘Sure. People know I can afford you. They'll speculate about how she can afford me. Pretty young widow, middle-aged widower. Sex would seem the most likely.' ‘You're a realist.' ‘I don't really think I am, but I know a hawk from a handsaw.' ‘I hope you do, because the ride could get rough. This is an extremely rich man we're going up against.' Yet he didn't sound scared. He sounded almost . . . greedy. He sounded the way part of me had felt when I saw that the magnets on the fridge were back in a circle. ‘I know he is.' ‘In court that won't matter a whole helluva lot, because there's a certain amount of money on the other side. Also, the judge is going to be very aware that this one is a powderkeg. That can be useful.' ‘What's the best thing we've got going for us?' I asked this thinking of Kyra's rosy, unmarked face and her complete lack of fear in the presence of her mother. I asked it thinking John would reply that the charges were clearly unfounded. I thought wrong. ‘The best thing? Devore's age. He's got to be older than God.' ‘Based on what I've heard over the weekend, I think he must be eighty-five. That would make God older.' ‘Yeah, but as a potential dad he makes Tony Randall look like a teenager,' John said, and now he sounded positively gloating. ‘Think of it, Michael the kid graduates from high school the year Gramps turns one hundred. Also there's a chance the old man's overreached himself. Do you know what a guardian ad litem is?' ‘No.' ‘Essentially it's a lawyer the court appoints to protect the interests of the child. A fee for the service comes out of court costs, but it's a pittance. Most people who agree to serve as guardian ad litem have strictly altruistic motives . . . but not all of them. In any case, the ad litem puts his own spin on the case. Judges don't have to take the guy's advice, but they almost always do. It makes a judge look stupid to reject the advice of his own appointee, and the thing a judge hates above all others is looking stupid.' ‘Devore will have his own lawyer?' John laughed. ‘How about half a dozen at the actual custody hearing?' ‘Are you serious?' ‘The guy is eighty-five. That's too old for Ferraris, too old for bungee jumping in Tibet, and too old for whores unless he's a mighty man. What does that leave for him to spend his money on?' ‘Lawyers,' I said bleakly. ‘Yep.' ‘And Mattie Devore? What does she get?' ‘Thanks to you, she gets me,' John Storrow said. ‘It's like a John Grisham novel, isn't it? Pure gold. Meantime, I'm interested in Durgin, the ad litem. If Devore hasn't been expecting any real trouble, he may have been unwise enough to put temptation in Durgin's way. And Durgin may have been stupid enough to succumb. Hey, who knows what we might find?' But I was a turn back. ‘She gets you,' I said. ‘Thanks to me. And if I wasn't here to stick in my oar? What would she get then?' ‘Bubkes. That's Yiddish. It means ‘ ‘I know what it means,' I said. ‘That's incredible.' ‘Nope, just American justice. You know the lady with the scales? The one who stands outside most city courthouses?' ‘Uh-huh.' ‘Slap some handcuffs on that broad's wrists and some tape over her mouth to go along with the blindfold, rape her and roll her in the mud. You like that image? I don't, but it's a fair representation of how the law works in custody cases where the plaintiff is rich and the defendant is poor. And sexual equality has actually made it worse, because while mothers still tend to be poor, they are no longer seen as the automatic choice for custody.' ‘Mattie Devore's got to have you, doesn't she?' ‘Yes,' John said simply. ‘Call me tomorrow and tell me that she will.' ‘I hope I can do that.' ‘So do I. And listen there's one more thing.' ‘What?' ‘You lied to Devore on the telephone.' ‘Bullshit!' ‘Nope, nope, I hate to contradict my sister's favorite author, but you did and you know it. You told Devore that mother and child were out together, the kid was picking flowers, everything was fine. You put everything in there except Bambi and Thumper.' I was sitting up straight in my deck-chair now. I felt sandbagged. I also felt that my own cleverness had been overlooked. ‘Hey, no, think again. I never came out and said anything. I told him I assumed. I used the word more than once. I remember that very clearly.' ‘Uh-huh, and if he was taping your conversation, you'll get a chance to actually count how many times you used it.' At first I didn't answer. I was thinking back to the conversation I'd had with him, remembering the underhum on the phone line, the characteristic underhum I remembered from all my previous summers at Sara Laughs. Had that steady low mmmmm been even more noticeable on Saturday night? ‘I guess maybe there could be a tape,' I said reluctantly. ‘Uh-huh. And if Devore's lawyer gets it to the ad litem, how do you think you'll sound?' ‘Careful,' I said. ‘Maybe like a man with something to hide.' ‘Or a man spinning yarns. And you're good at that, aren't you? After all, it's what you do for a living. At the custody hearing, Devore's lawyer is apt to mention that. If he then produces one of the people who passed you shortly after Mattie arrived on the scene . . . a person who testifies that the young lady seemed upset and flustered . . . how do you think you'll sound then?' ‘Like a liar,' I said, and then: ‘Ah, fuck.' ‘Fear not, Mike. Be of good cheer.' ‘What should I do?' ‘Spike their guns before they can fire them. Tell Durgin exactly what happened. Get it in the depo. Emphasize the fact that the little girl thought she was walking safely. Make sure you get in that ‘crossmock' thing. I love that.' ‘Then if they have a tape they'll play it and I'll look like a story-changing schmuck.' ‘I don't think so. You weren't a sworn witness when you talked to Devore, were you? There you were, sitting out on your deck and minding your own business, watching the fireworks show. Out of the blue this grouchy old asshole calls you. Starts ranting. Didn't even give him your number, did you?' ‘No.' ‘Your unlisted number.' ‘No.' ‘And while he said he was Maxwell Devore, he could have been anyone, right?' ‘Right.' ‘He could have been the Shah of Iran.' ‘No, the Shah's dead.' ‘The Shah's out, then. But he could have been a nosy neighbor . . . or a prankster.' ‘Yes.' ‘And you said what you said with all those possibilities in mind. But now that you're part of an official court proceeding, you're telling the whole truth and nothing but.' ‘You bet.' That good my-lawyer feeling had deserted me for a bit, but it was back full-force now. ‘You can't do better than the truth, Mike,' he said solemnly. ‘Except maybe in a few cases, and this isn't one. Are we clear on that?' ‘Yes.' ‘All right, we're done. I want to hear from either you or Mattie Devore around elevenish tomorrow. It ought to be her.' ‘I'll try.' ‘If she really balks, you know what to do, don't you?' ‘I think so. Thanks, John.' ‘One way or another, we'll talk very soon,' he said, and hung up. I sat where I was for awhile. Once I pushed the button which opened the line on the cordless phone, then pushed it again to close it. I had to talk to Mattie, but I wasn't quite ready yet. I decided to take a walk instead. If she really balks, you know what to do, don't you? Of course. Remind her that she couldn't afford to be proud. That she couldn't afford to go all Yankee, refusing charity from Michael Noonan, author of Being Two, The Red-Shirt Man, and the soon-to-be-published Helen's Promise. Remind her that she could have her pride or her daughter, but likely not both. Hey, Mattie, pick one. I walked almost to the end of the lane, stopping at Tidwell's Meadow with its pretty view down to the cup of the lake and across to the White Mountains. The water dreamed under a hazy sky, looking gray when you tipped your head one way, blue when you tipped it the other. That sense of mystery was very much with me. That sense of Manderley. Over forty black people had settled here at the turn of the century lit here for awhile, anyway according to Marie Hingerman (also according to A History of Castle County and Castle Rock, a weighty tome published in 1977, the county's bicentennial year). Pretty special black people, too: most of them related, most of them talented, most of them part of a musical group which had first been called The Red-Top Boys and then Sara Tidwell and the Red-Top Boys. They had bought the meadow and a good-sized tract of lakeside land from a man named Douglas Day. The money had been saved up over a period of ten years, according to Sonny Tidwell, who did the dickering (as a Red-Top, Son Tidwell had played what was then known as ‘chickenscratch guitar'). There had been a vast uproar about it in town, and even a meeting to protest ‘the advent of these darkies, which come in a Horde.' Things had settled down and turned out okay, as things have a way of doing, more often than not. The shanty town most locals had expected on Day's Hill (for so Tidwell's Meadow was called in 1900, when Son Tidwell bought the land on behalf of his extensive clan) had never appeared. Instead, a number of neat white cabins sprang up, surrounding a larger building that might have been intended as a group meeting place, a rehearsal area, or perhaps, at some point, a performance hall. Sara and the Red-Top Boys (sometimes there was a Red-Top Girl in there, as well; membership in the band was fluid, changing with every performance) played around western Maine for over a year, maybe closer to two years. In towns all up and down the Western Line Farmington, Skowhegan, Bridgton, Gates Falls, Castle Rock, Morton, Fryeburg you'll still come across their old show-posters at barn bazaars and junkatoriums. Sara and the Red-Tops were great favorites on the circuit, and they got along all right at home on the TR, too, which never surprised me. At the end of the day Robert Frost that utilitarian and often unpleasant poet was right: in the northeastern three we really do believe that good fences make good neighbors. We squawk and then keep a miserly peace, the kind with gimlet eyes and a tucked-down mouth. ‘They pay their bills,' we say. ‘I ain't never had to shoot one a their dogs,' we say. ‘They keep themselves to themselves,' we say, as if isolation wer e a virtue. And, of course, the defining virtue: ‘They don't take charity.' And at some point, Sara Tidwell became Sara Laughs. In the end, though, TR-90 mustn't have been what they wanted, because after playing a county fair or two in the late summer of 1901, the clan moved on. Their neat little cabins provided summer-rental income for the Day family until 1933, when they burned in the summer fires which charred the east and north sides of the lake. End of story. Except for her music, that was. Her music had lived. I got up from the rock I had been sitting on, stretched my arms and my back, and walked back down the lane, singing one of her songs as I went.

“Life of Pi” Characters Essay

As the final chapter of Part Two comes to an end, Pi breaks into tears, crying the following words: â€Å"Richard Parker, a companion of my torment, awful, fierce thing that kept me alive, moved forward and disappeared forever from my life.† In the world today where civilization exists, the idea of an innocent sixteen-year-old boy surviving his ordeal with a feral Bengal tiger lies beyond our concept of reality. However, it cannot be denied that the relation between Bengal tiger and Pi is depicted with great amount of detail that makes it consistent and plausible, due to the author’s awareness that the intricate relationship will serve as an important role throughout the story in literary aspects. In the novel Life of Pi written by Canadian author Yann Martel, a relationship develops between a Bengal tiger and Pi, who are stranded on a lifeboat after a horrific shipwreck Richard Parker and Pi seem to be full of opposites as the ordeal at sea begins. Nevertheless, there are specific intentions of the author in placing these two living beings on the lifeboat which become apparent as the story progresses. The developments in the relationship are significant to the novel as a whole, as they effectively convey the author’s message and themes, and contain symbolism that has great importance. The gradual development in the relationship between Richard Parker and Pi implies the most noteworthy themes of the novel. In the beginning, when Pi realizes himself and the Bengal tiger are stranded in the ocean, he feels enormous fear towards Richard Parker. However, ironically, when Pi admits his death is inevitable, he stops worrying about the future; he can instead be soothed by knowing what will happen, regardless of how horrible the fate is. To his surprise, Pi finds out the tiger’s willingness to negotiate by the unexpected snort of prusten, which is a tiger’s way of stating that he has no malicious intentions. Consequently, Pi is distracted from his horrible loss of family, by training the tiger. â€Å"This was the way to tame him!† an exhilarated Pi exclaims as he finds a possible way of cohabiting safely with the tiger. Thus, their physical distance lessens, and this movement toward one another becomes notable. They share an interdependent relationship , which is shown through examples such as Pi catching food for both himself and Richard Parker, and the tiger protecting Pi from the attack of the French man. This cooperation in the most primal of animals indicates  the close similarities in the behavior of man and animal, under an adverse situation where civilization does not exist. It is here that the author implies what a relationship between man and beast should be. Although Richard Parker is undeniably seen as a danger, Pi’s experience provides a sense of connection with the animal world; Pi has a sense of respect and love for Richard Parker as well as many other creatures he encounters. From another degree of interpretation, Richard Parker and Pi–characters who possess two completely different personalities–getting along well may bring the theme of both human’s and animal’s will to survive into the novel. Moreover, it is noteworthy that the tiger bears a man’s full name, while Pi is reminiscent of the word Pisces. Martel has built an apparent zoomorphic ambiguity into their names, pointing out the gray between the black and white, which means that Life of Pi refuses a simplistic attitude regarding human and animal relations. As the author suggests, animals are not absolutely lovable or monstrous creatures, or dangerous beasts, but they are closely related to humanity, and the same applies to Richard Parker. In this novel, the relationship between the two characters symbolizes Pi’s animalistic instinct, and therefore holds significance. To the narrator, Richard Parker is not merely his simple companion and a wild animal, but at a deeper level of analysis, it is a mirror of Pi, himself. On the lifeboat Pi shows two different sides of himself. He becomes as savage as Richard Parker after he abandons his lifelong vegetarian personality and performs actions to sustain himself that would have been inconceivable in his former life as a religious teenager. As time progresses, he is unafraid of killing the living creatures even in brutish ways. He tears apart birds and greedily stuffs them into his mouth, similar to the behavior of Richard Parker. Furthermore, in the second story he told to the Japanese investigators in part three, Pi is portrayed as Richard Parker who takes revenge upon his mother’s murderer by killing him. From one point of view, Pi invents Parker as an allegorical figure of himself, because in this way, the story becomes more pleasant and acceptable to the readers. It is arguable that the brutality of his mother’s death and his own shocking act of revenge are too much for Pi to deal with, and he finds it easier to imagine a tiger as the killer, rather than himself in that role. Richard Parker therefore can be  concluded as the primitive side of Pi. The magical spell between Richard Parker and Pi eventually breaks once the two characters land on the shore of Mexico, and they no longer need to maintain their interdependent relationship for survival. Both animals part and adapt to their new environments. During their predicament, their animal and human aspects have been mingled the whole time; nevertheless, once they return to civilization, they move on to their own roles. Pi becomes part of a community again, and Richard Parker departs into the wild. Despite the fact that they both have made it through the most difficult of trials by being the lifeline for each other, Richard Parker leaves Pi unceremoniously and disappears into the jungle. The purpose of the author in making this choice is to voice the message that the force of nature in our lives is beyond human control. This relationship between the two reflects how humans and animals interact in the real world that lies in contrast to the world where rules do not exist. The relationship between Pi and Richard undergoes a number of notable changes. To Pi, Richard Parker changes from a source of fear to a light of hope, a companion, the only living creature he puts his emotions into for 277 days. They display interdependent relations through the story. Most importantly, there are numerous significance aspects to their relationship that makes it an essential part of the novel and that deserves to be focused on, as the interactions between them in a number of ways imply the true central ideas that are meant to be the intention of Martel’s writing Life of Pi certainly is a survival literature of the modern times that holds significance in various aspects. Bibliography www.sparknotes.com/lit/lifeofpi/context.html

Confusion – personal writing

Rosie ran a brush through her copper-gold, long, silky hair and smiled contentedly. After a touch of lip-gloss was applied she was satisfied with her reflection, so she grabbed her jacket and bounded down to where her Mother was waiting. â€Å"Okay honey?† her Mum asked smiling. â€Å"Yes, fine thank you Mum.† Rosie replied cheerfully. Rosie was adopted as a child and lived with her mother and adoptive brother in a renovated house in Yorkshire. Her Mother was single and Rosie had never had any contact with her natural parents. Rosie loved her life, she was seeing a lovely guy and her Mum and her were just going to the local shopping center were she was going to meet up with him. Rosie and her Mum, Nicola drove down the motorway in their Renault. It was a beautiful day, Rosie thought to herself as she gazed at the deep, blue sky making shapes in her mind out of the puffy, white candyfloss like clouds. Suddenly her head was thrown sideways against the window and a loud screeching filled her ears. Then all the noise, all the visions were gone and Rosie felt strangely peaceful. Rosie opened her eyes and all she could see was white. She tried to sit up but her head hurt so much she slumped back down again. From that position she tried to figure out her surroundings. She was looking straight upwards at a plain, white ceiling without a blemish on it. She slowly and painfully turned her head and was faced with a blue curtain. To puzzled to be panicked she tried to figure out where she was. She didn't have long to wait. The blue curtain was yanked backed and an extremely harassed looking man looked in. â€Å"Let me see my daughter, where is she?† he was saying. â€Å"Please sir you're disturbing the patients,† a nurse was telling him worriedly. â€Å"Oh thank goodness!† said the strange man and started hugging Rosie. At first Rosie was to shocked to respond and then she pushed him away with all the strength she could muster. â€Å"What do you think you are doing?† Rosie spluttered. â€Å"Darling, what's the matter? What's wrong?† the man asked Rosie, and then turning to the nurse he repeated, â€Å"What's wrong? Why doesn't she recognize me?† â€Å"I'm sorry, she's been through a lot. She needs some rest, please come back later when things are a bit clearer to her.† â€Å"What do you mean?† the strange man demanded, his voice rising, â€Å"This is my only daughter lying here, I need to be with her.† † I realise you must be anxious but the best thing you can for your daughter now is to let her rest, so please I must ask you to leave.† Reasoned the nurse. The man seemed to be fighting a battle with himself to control his emotions. It looked like he won and he seemed to use a lot of self-restraint as he said, â€Å"Fine, I'll see you later Jenny, and just remember Daddy loves you.† Then he walked out. â€Å"Try and get some rest dear.† Soothed the nurse, and then she followed him, shutting the curtain as she left. Jenny lay back, a million thoughts running through her head at once.

Comic elements in the first act of “much ado about nothing”

In the era in which â€Å"much ado about nothing† was set the wealth and power of someone was far more credible than their personality and this is portrayed in the first few lines of the play when Leonato asks â€Å"how many gentleman have you lost in this action† and the messenger replies â€Å"but few of any sort, and none of name† he segregates the wealthy from the poor as though they are two different beings and doesn’t tell us how many lower class people died as if it is irrelevant. Vanity and hypocrisy are prominent themes that occur throughout the play, in the times of â€Å"much ado about nothing† the people were so focused on how they looked towards other people that their extravagant clothes, over the top mannerisms and the contrast in language in comparison to modern day were all somewhat outrageous and in turn humorous. Don John, the typical villain, only says one thing in act 1 scene 1 â€Å"I thank you, I am not of many words, But I thank you† this is quite a disappointing first line, the audience expects him to stamp his authority on the play but instead he stays relatively quiet, it Is an anti-climax with no climax accept the anticipation of how he will be portrayed in the play. The main comical relationship in this play is between Beatrice and Benedick and they also feature hugely in act 1scene 1. Beatrice first speaks of Benedick when she refers to him as â€Å"Signor Mountanto† which basically means ladies’ man; this is the first bit of intentional comedy in the whole play, you could argue its sarcasm or the mocking of his inability to bed down a relationship, which is ironic because Beatrice is in pretty much the same situation as Benedick. As a result of Beatrices complex humour the messenger gets somewhat confused â€Å"I know none of that name, lady, there was none such in the army of any sort† this is humorous at the messenger’s expense because of his confusion, an audience tends to like it when they are in the know and the people on stage are somewhat lost. Beatrice’s constant insulting almost seems uncontrollable, with everything she says comes some sort of insult towards Benedick. Benedick is extremely against marriage, because of the possibility of an unfaithful wife, and in lines 145 to 147 this becomes very evident, saying married men whose wives whom are unfaithful should wear caps â€Å"Is’t come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion?† Although Beatrice and Benedick argue every time they see each other, it can’t go unnoticed that Benedick is all Beatrice talks about, which makes it so painstakingly obvious that they will get married, it’s funny, it is also Dramatic irony because the audience know what is going to happen and Beatrice and Benedick don’t.