Thursday, April 06, 2006

Refresher Course!

The company I work for had a change of management recently. The new people in charge are not like the old ones. These ones are young, full of ideas and totally lack any kind of world experience and people management. They’re a dream come true.

A few months ago, the top man called me in to his office and started asking me questions about my work and what improvements I have to suggest. I played it cool and was all diplomacy and timidity. I put no clear ideas forward. I shared no great wisdom. I didn’t let him in into my great reserves of common sense and astuteness. In short, I played dumb. He fell for it. He suggested that I should go on a training course! He was heading the way I wanted him to go. But not fully, not fully! I had to employ a tiny bit of my renowned powers of suggestion and skill to convince him to change it from a training course to a ‘refresher’ course. He easily agreed and thought it his own idea!

The next day, he called me again and asked me to come and see him. I went over acting all meek and ready to feign surprise as I convinced him to give me a huge pay rise. It wasn’t to be. As I walked into his office, I noticed that he was holding some kind of prospectus in his hand. He was leafing through and marking various courses. I went over, sat down and waited for him to speak. He passed me the prospectus and asked me to look at the different courses. I had a quick glance and was appalled to find out that the prospectus was not a University one. It was not even one issued by a private College! It was an Adult Education Centre one! I told him that such places are not likely to offer me the kind of knowledge (refreshing) that I was after. He told me that as long as I got a certificate at the end of the course (any course) he would be happy! This man is a quick learner. A bit rough and clumsy in the way he presents his ideas but a quick learner nonetheless. He was using my own techniques against me! We were like two calm looking teenagers, each holding a joystick and hardly moving a muscle, yet still playing Street Fighter and letting out lots of blood. No words were exchanged but I got the impression that in order to get a pay rise I’d have to do this damn course! Sonic boom!

I let him choose the course for me. I phoned the Adult Education Centre and made an appointment to meet the course manager. The course was to start on the following Monday and was going to last for the next twelve Mondays. The helpful course manager asked me to make sure that I bring in my own stationery.

On the Monday, it was my first day back at school. It didn’t feel right at all. Mother was not there to wave me off. I forgot to pack myself some lunch. I had to get in a tube with lots of big people. I had no mates to walk with me. It all was very frightening really.

I got to the college on time and after enquiring at reception was led to the correct class. Once there, I discovered that the class consisted of four housewives and a retired old man! I gave them all a sympathetic smile and pulled a seat in the far corner, away from them. The old man was talking to the Russian housewife about the courses he did when he was younger. He was pathetically regretting not having done more when he had the chance. I’m sure I heard him ask her if they had any schools in Russia! The other three women were talking about the course manager and all agreed that he was a charming, man! Mr bring-your-own-stationery was a charming man!

He walked in. Stood in the middle of the room. Looked at us all. Turned around and cleared the blackboard. Looked at us all again. Pulled a seat and sat down. It must have been a full minute before he uttered any word. The retired old man said hello to him but got nothing back other than a simple condescending smile! This was going to be great fun. I stooped down to the world of Adult Education only to find that my ‘teacher’ was a self-important clown. I pushed my chair back a bit and sat as comfortably as was humanly possible in those types of chairs. It seems the clown had chosen his moment to speak and was just about to do so when I pushed my chair back! The noise of my chair took away from his intended big moment. He didn’t look at all happy as he stared at me and tried to break me with his gaze. I gave him a benevolent smile and almost, gently, patted him on the head with my eyelashes. He scored a small victory by ignoring my smile and pretending I didn’t exist. I was beaming now. This simpleton really thought he got the better of me!

He started talking and explaining the setup of the course and all the other boring details. One of the women was confused as to his role. She asked him if he was a teacher or merely the course Administrator. Hadouken! The poor women didn’t know what hit her. He let rip with a long lecture about the difference between an Administrator and Manager. HE was the course Manager. He hired people to teach on that course. He had his own administrator working under him. He worked hard all his life to reach that position and would like some acknowledgment from his pupils (I was quietly pleased to be referred to as a pupil). The woman apologised but he refused her apology and cleverly indicated that making mistakes was part and parcel of the learning process. YOU all, he said as he pointed us all out with some invisible magic wand, are here to learn. I am going to teach you everything about this course and a few more things that have nothing to do with this course, he added. SONIC BOOM!

The course, as I suspected, turned out to be a pointless one. I could have taught it with my eyes closed. Yet, I was a student in it and had to pass! To start with, I assumed that passing was not even in question. How could I not pass this silly course? How?
However, as the weeks went by and I got to know this course manager better, I knew that passing was not as easy as I assumed!

One day, half way through one of his dull lectures, he finally had the courage to direct one of his questions at me. This question had nothing to do with the course. He was trying to give us a hypothetical example of something or other but then digressed into how people undervalue processes and the importance of following them correctly. This is when he asked me to explain the processes involved in making a cup of tea!

Tea? I asked. Tea, he said. With Sugar and Milk? I asked. Please, he said. In a cup or pot? I asked. Your choice, he said.

I told him that I usually make my tea in a cup not a pot. Told him that I would put a teabag in the empty cup first. I’d then add hot water and follow that with milk, then finally add the sugar.

He screeched the sound “ Aah! Aah! Aah!” and shook his head in disagreement. He said my process of making tea was wrong. I told him that he gave me the choice in choosing my process! He shouted “STOP RIGHT THERE” and stuck out his hand like some irate traffic policeman. Don’t misquote me; I didn’t give you the choice, he protested. I thought you did, I said. No I didn’t, he said. I shrugged. SONIC BOOM!

This is why, ladies and gentlemen, he calmly said as he addressed the rest of the class, PRocesses are important!
WHY? I asked whilst trying to suppress a chuckle.
Why? He retorted.
Because without good processes, without knowing the value of processes and without respecting processes, people like you will shrug and be lost for words when asked about a simple process, he lectured.
I am indeed lost for words, I said smiling.

The whole room were staring at me and looking confused. The poor lambs had no idea what was going on and couldn’t follow the simple PRocess of our argument. I flashed them all their usual portion of my generous smile. He took this opportunity to change the subject to something that felt more comfortable. He started talking about himself and how, even now, he still learns new things about life. He spat out some sort of technical word at us and asked us if we knew what it meant. I had no idea what it meant. The women were impressed (as they’ve always been) with his vast knowledge. The old retired man slowly shook his head, though it wasn’t clear if he was doing it out of resignation or ignorance of the question! The course manager explained to us that the word had something to do with toilets. Apparently, (and this is the most useless and amusing piece of information I ever had the pleasure to learn) joined up toilet seats and non-joined up toilet seats have different names! The word he used described one of those! The reason he mentioned these, he said, was because he was redecorating his flat! Once we safely passed over the bottleneck of technical words, we all had a great time hearing about his flat and what improvements he made to it.

I daydreamt for a bit but when I returned, I noticed that the women in the class were badmouthing someone called Sandra and that the course manager was agreeing with them. I was just about to ask whom this Sandra person was when the old retired man finally woke up and said something I’ve been dying to say from the first day. He said, ‘with all due respect, Mr Razaq, I don’t think most of us joined this course to talk about your private life’. SONIC B.OOOOM!

The clown had a hurt look on his face. He didn’t utter a word in reply. Instead, he stood there staring at the old man. Like one of those nature programs when they speed up the photography and show the clouds gathering in the sky and then suddenly dispersing, we all could clearly see all sorts of ideas and thoughts appear on his face and quickly disappear. He smiled. He frowned. He took a step back. He took a step forward. He looked offended. He looked tickled. He was lost for words. He was bursting with words. The only thing missing was a classic Attenborough commentary!

A few centuries later, an O sound came out of him. It was loud and lasted for a few seconds. It was quickly followed by the sound ‘K’! But this was not an everyday ‘K’. It was not a short and sharp ‘K’. This was more of a raw Pizza ‘K’. He stretched it as far as it would go then stretched it some more. He darted his eyes around the room and tried to find some supporters. He suddenly changed tack and shouted the words “STOP. RIGHT. THERE!”

The worst thing for a good teacher, he said, is when his pupils don’t pay attention to him or follow his lesson, he added. One of your colleagues, ladies and gentlemen, accuses me of wasting lesson times by talking about myself, he shouted. “One of your colleagues, ladies and gentlemen, thinks I have nothing better to do than talk about my next-door neighbour”, he scoffed! “This lesson was about ORganised PRocesses!” He said. “The mention of my flat, toilet and next door neighbour was an illustration of random PRocesses and how misleading they can be”, he added knowingly. One of the women succumbed and started nodding her head as she listened to him. “Sarah, you understand what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He asked. She carried on nodding. This was the sort of backup he needed and it gave him the confidence to look the old man in the eye as he rebuked him. “I would appreciate it, sir, if you paid attention in my lessons. I don’t like to be accused of talking about trivial things and wasting my and your valuable time”, he protested. The old man shrugged. SONIC BOOM! The clown was mortified. He shouted, “ I already told your colleague that shrugging was the enemy of good PRocesses. Don’t shrug again please”. Hadouken!

The old man started packing his books and materials. The clown was affronted! “It’s rude to walkout in the middle of a class,” he said.
“It’s time to go home,” said the old man.
“No it’s not”, argued the clown. The old man shrugged. The clown turned to the rest of the class and said, “ It’s one minute to five. The lesson finishes at five. Leaving at one minute to five is a sign that someone does not understand the meaning of a good PRocess”. He looked at his female supporter as he bellowed these words. She was nodding as usual. But then, suddenly, she somehow remembered something! She quickly looked at her watch and then started packing her belongings too. The clown looked disappointed. He looked at the rest of us and noticed that we were all ready to leave.


He stormed out without saying a word.
 


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