(There seems to be some confusion about the original author of this poem. It was sent to me by way of an email from my brother-in-law in the Fletcher School at Tufts. Then, today, David Brauer at MinnPost via Twitter (@dbrauer) sent me to this link where the author may be Zulfiqar Ali Khowaja. And now others in the comments section are saying this is such an old joke, it's worthless. Ah, the Internetz.
Nevertheless, I love it.)

A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost. He reduced
altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit
more and shouted, 'Excuse me, can you help me? I
promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I
don't know where I am.'

The woman below replied, 'You're in a hot air
balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground.
You're between
40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60
degrees west longitude.'

'You must be in Information Technology,' said the
balloonist.

'I am,' replied the woman, 'How did you
know?'

'Well,' answered the balloonist, everything you
told me is technically correct, but I've no idea what to
make of your information and the fact is I'm still
lost. Frankly, you've not been much help at all. If
anything, you've delayed my trip.'

The woman below responded, 'You must be in
Management.'

'I am,' replied the balloonist, 'but how did
you know?'

'Well,' said the woman, 'you don't know
where you are or where you're going. You have risen to
where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You
made a promise, which you've no idea how to keep, and
you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The
fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in
before we met, but now, somehow, it's my fault.'