Archive Page 2

Cries for He-lp have been answered…

Penelope Pitstop has been released.

Finally, someone pointed out to her she could no longer be in this particular race.



Penelope Pitstop

Wacky-penelope-pitstopLet me introduce Penny. Penny is in a strategic, leadership position in a large organisation. She has a six-figure salary, 2 children and a husband in advertising earning similar to her. She is a study in anti-engagement. She’s truly fascinating, but for the wrong reasons! Her staff have no time for her, she has neither their respect nor their confidence. She’s defensive, takes things personally and blames her staff when things go wrong.

Having made the effort to ask somone about their holiday, yawning all the way through the answer and then telling them all about her trip to Australia over Christmas.

Explaining that she’d brought in a cake so that “people who didn’t get a drink bought for them because they weren’t at the Christmas meal can have a slice of cake instead.”

“I’ve brought these sweets that our nanny got for my kids for you lot because they’re not good enough quality for my children”

She doesn’t think its her job to make sure the people she manages are doing theirs – and she’s even said so in a meeting with her own staff!

How long will Penny survive? We’ll see…


Old School

I’ve just been looking back over my old blogposts. I joined WordPress in 2006 after my old blog over at 20six had wobbled along for 3 years and the wheels had come off.

What I’ve noiced is that the way we blog and what we blog about seem to have got a whole lot more sophisticated. Probably because technology allows us to upload cool pictures with ease, these days, but also because – I think – the people who stayed blogging are a different kind of person to the ones who gave up and just went to other social media outlets.

So, back in my old-school archives I come across as chatty, but I’m sharing things I’d never share anywhere else. I discuss my health and how I feel in much more detail than I’d ever do with a real, live person. It was cathartic to me at the time, and whilst I’m not dismissing this medium for that purpose, I think I’ve grown a bit since then.

What have I learned?

My biggest lessons are:

  1. shit happens to everyone, some people just cope better and/or more quietly with it than others
  2. you have to do what’s in your heart, and not pretend to be something or someone you’re not. Compromise on your principles and you’re on a slippery slope to pain and destruction.
  3. trying to see things from someone else’s point of view really helps your decision-making.
  4. Having said (3), remember that you can’t fix everyone’s problems, and sometimes, even if you try, you can’t stop them being unhappy. Because of that, sometimes the right thing to do is (kindly) walk away.
  5. Think positively, let the past go and move on to the next thing. Positive thinking keeps you alive (quite literally – Google some survival stories if you need convincing).
  6. People will judge you. Its human nature. Get over it.
  7. Dance. No-one told me when I was young and awkward that it was OK to get on the dance floor, even if you’d never had a dance lesson. Dancing is about feeling the music and expressing yourself in a way without words. It feels good, and most of all – no-one’s looking at you, not really. They’re wrapped up in their own social awkwardness, or they’re drunk.
  8. Go your own way. Don’t be a sheep – that’s how we get lamb chops.

I probably learned more than this, but that’s my top 8. What have you learned in the last 10 years?

Talking it through

Today I met with two completely seperate individuals who wanted to be able to talk through things that were concerning them. Alice is thinking about retiring, and Bill wants to start getting some control back from an ongoing health condition that is robbing him of his sleep and happiness. Although the topics were poles apart, they had a lot in common. Both had something intensely personal to consider, both wanted to share it confidentially with me as an objective but not entirely external facilitator. Both want change but are concerned about the route to take, the lurking dangers and the ‘right’ way to communicate the plan. I really do enjoy my job, and I think I do make a difference to people. A sensible, objective ear but someone who doesn’t judge, isn’t shocked and helps you to organise your thoughts in a practical way so solutions are created, not just speculated upon. We all need someone safe to talk to, don’t we?

Question of Leadership

So, here’s a question for you.

How does a person who comes in to a senior strategic role in a large organisation, where the management and leadership of 40 people is an integral part of his remit have (a) no organisational skills (b) no people skills and (c) no self-awareness?

The second part of my question then has to be:

Why have we let this man run unchecked for 7 years, whilst we haemorrage good people like a gaping wound and see the rapid and sustained decline in customer service?

It was never going to be successful. People work for other people, not organisations. They work for people who get the best from them, show them the way, enhance their lives; who stand back and let their team take the credit, but who step forward to defend them from danger; who understand that life throws things at you when you least expect them, but helps you to roll with the punches so that you keep giving back your best.

And our strategic manager has none of this.

I really like this quote from General Colin Powell of the USA army (later Secretary of State):

Leadership is solving problems. The day soldiers stop bringing you their problems is the day you have stopped leading them. They have either lost confidence that you can help or concluded you do not care. Either case is a failure of leadership.


bruised ankle Dec 2015 crop

This, my friends, is what a sprained ankle looks like.

A note from the past


Janice sat on her own, perched on a seat in the corner of a poky office, fat, dusty folders on all sides of her workspace like a poorly constructed barricade. The office was slightly too warm, which wasn’t helping her concentration very much as she waded through page after page of work history; the story of Mr David Swale, Lecturer of Engineering at Teacham College. There were nine files. Nine. Unfortunately they were loose-leaf and had not been put together carefully by a dilligent chronographer over the last 15 years.

Janice’s gaze wandered from the transparent, pink-but-yellowing-round-the-edges foolscap sheet of typewritten paper, changing her focus into the middle-distance through the closed window. The heat and moisture inside was making condensation around the edges of the single-pane glass, and in many ways the window in front of her and the paper in her hand did the same thing; they were transparent, but opaque at the same time. She thought for a few minutes about what she knew about Mr Swale. She had met him last week, and heard him give his account of events as he saw them. He was a tall, stocky man in his 50’s with slightly greying hair that was cut very short. He told us of his life in the army as a young, man, of the places he couldn’t tell us he’d been to. Of the transition from Army to civilian life. The Post Traumatic Stress he wouldn’t give details of, the happy times as a teacher, putting all that skill of his back into today’s children – tomorrow’s future. He was plausible, he was nice. He looked her in the eye as he spoke. He was entirely believable. He was quite, quite mad.

Janice went back to her file, and placed the current page near the back of the sheaf of papers on the desk. She picked up the next page and started to read it, but it wasn’t going in. She was thinking about Mr Swale’s colleagues, who had also been interviewed last week. Tim had talked about his own interractions with Dave. The tales of working for the AA or the RAC, or some similar breakdown recovery organisation. The common ground they appeared to share in their backgrounds was uncanny. Clive had told us how Dave had laughed when he found out he’d been in the REME too, and then had become distant and stopped telling his old stories of driving tanks in Northern Ireland. And finally, Al, who had also been ex-military and had smelled a rat the moment he overheard Dave talking to some students about “the old days”. One by one, they’d all come together and started to piece together the information they had of Mr Swale. And nothing had stacked up. Mr Swale – and by the end of it Janice was wondering if even that was his real name – was not the man he seemed to be.

The files were a collection of investigations, complaints and health problems. Pages of memos, letters, notes and records of all the things that Mr Swale had been involved in whilst he worked for EngineTech, a private company that had become part of the College way back in the 90’s, and then his recent 15 year history with Teacham. How had he survived so long without anyone realising there was a problem? Evidently there were problems, or there would never have been so much paper associated with one man over a fairly medium-term career. As Janice read through the pages, she could see how each thing in isolation made few ripples. The odd period of illness, the odd lost temper. A few case of poor judgement and a few more cases where managers and colleagues hadn’t played their part sensibly either. Years and years of wasted time and effort, until now. Finally, someone was putting all the details together in one place, laboriously, painstakingly.

Janice filed the latest memo in the sheaf of papers on the desk, and sighed. She summoned up energy reserves and reached across for the next piece of paper from the file. It was a sheet of good quality headed paper from the College, signed by the Chief Executive at the time, Donald Dibbs. Janice absorbed the content of the two paragraphs, and then went back to the beginning and read them for a second time, just to be sure.

Whilst I have some reservations, particularly in respect of recent information that has come to my attention, I hereby sign off your probation period and accept you as a substantive member of teaching staff.” 

Well. Thought Janice. There we are. If the managers back then had had the courage to tackle the issues in the beginning, we’d have saved countless people being upset and harmed by this man’s lies and anti-social behaviours, NINE files worth of paperwork and countless hundreds of hours of manpower dealing with the fallout from this one man. One man, who took up the time and attention of countless others, and switched the focus from those good, kind people with promising careers, to damage limitation. What an absolute tragedy.

And, not for the first or the last time in her career, there was nothing Janice could do to fix it. All that could be done was to make sure that Mr Swale could exit the organisation as quickly and unceremoniously as possible, and his colleagues had time to heal and move on. No-one would “win” this one. No-one ever “won” in these games. All that could be hoped for was a better outcome than doing nothing.