I am facing a true management challenge in one of my working groups. For as long as I can remember, one member has not contributed much to the group output. Apparently this person was busy with other group work. The other group indicates that they were under the impression that he was actually doing work for us which prevented him from doing too much work for them.

Some specialists call this a free rider problem.

Actually, it is not quite like a management problem because, at this time of the year, and given the composition of the rest of the team, I do not really care.

I decided to try to imagine a difficult conversation that we might have, just for the heck of it. You will note the subtle touch of culturally-aware Insead MBAs throughout the conversation and the delicate balance between harsh substance and diplomatic communication shell.

The Group -
Hi, are you so immobilized by your obvious neurotic apathy that you could not feel enough empathy for our noble cause of gaining access to superior knowledge? You clearly did not advance any help to accomplish our task.

The deliquent member -
Hold your horses Ben hur. You sound like hyper-sensitive subamibian molecules that have been shaken too hard after osmosis. I am at this present time gathering the intensity of my cerebral power before I unleash its energy in the spheres of this world.

- Are you saying that you have just sealed yourself off from the group and turned your mind into some medieval monk who has just taken vows of permanent silence?

- What deranged fantasy are the ethearal vapors of your grey cells elaborating to justify your total lack of interest in the richness and spread of my contacts, my well of knowledge and the originality of my approach? Like a feline - I wait and prepare for the ultimate assault.


- are you committed enough to our cause to save the wreckage of the project?

- what do all these lachrymose excesses mean? Hyper-sensitive was a euphemism to refer to your total loss of dignified self-control.

- If you are not committed, should we see ourselves forced to invoke an elaborate mathematical curse upon you. It is called the z-curse.

- What kind of treacherous debauched approach does this low blow form part of? None of you could even begin to comprehend the singularity of my genius. Back off and cram your disillusioned neurons in to the working quarters of this 2 by 2 ft cubicle while I decide whether I should sprinkle some grains of my personal enlightment into the miracle of laziness onto all of you. This conversation is now over. You may return to work and produce this miserable report.