It should have been a warning
Attendance Compulsary.
If the cultural difference workshop were to be valuable or interesting in any way, they wouldn't need those two little words would they? Unfortunately I'm a stickler in many ways, and this is one of them. I always have a peculiar paranoia that one day I will wag one of these things and it will turn out that they gave out free cars. Or tell me such sage words of wisdom that I can live the rest of my life in a zen-like state of enlightenment.
Which is how I came to be sitting at a table arranged in the formation they call 'co-operative' in one of the many rabbit warren rooms of the business and marketing building. A nametag on my left breast proudly displayed "Madeleine, Technical University of Delft, The Netherlands" for anyone who cared to know. The palpable reluctance in the room suggested that this was no-one.
Ms Spindler clasped her hands, beamed, and introduced the first 'activity'. This thrilling exercise was charting a recent challenge, complete with high points and low points, on a sheet of butcher's paper. Those are two words that should also inspire caution.
Butchers. Paper.
"Pick an experience that you found challenging, and map how your perceptions changed along the way. Show the low points as dips, and the high points as peaks" said Ms. Spindler. With such a heart-warming and co-operative smile that I felt guilty for not being more enthusiastic.
A challenge... That would probably be the point last week at which I sold out completely, and entered the hated occupation of telemarketer. The job that tethers you with a phone cord, chained with golden shackles, to a desk in a room full of shouting people. Talking to people who make it only too clear that they don't really want to be talking to you either. After a few minutes of drawing I realised my graph resembled nothing so much as a slippery dip. High point: finding out about the $18 an hour base rate. Low point: everything else.
"Now pick those points on your graph that you found most challenging, and discuss those strategies you used to deal with the challenge" Ms. Spindler sang, with even greater enthusiasm than before.
I turned to my poe-faced table mates.
"Well...my strategy was to think of the money."
Sarah, who had endured the recent challenge of living with a girl she didn't like, had responded by moving out. Remy, who had food poisoning on a recent trip to Thailand, had taken medicine.
"We now will have a group discussion about these strategies" said Ms Spindler, her tone of voice indicating that this too would be jolly good fun.
The victims at the table to our left had played along more good-naturedly than we. They strategies included "keeping a diary to cope with change" and "Discussing the problem with friends". Number one; crap, Number two: duh. I wondered if deep down that really meant it, or if they too were merely trying to scrape through the afternoon without their brains leaking out of their ears.
When it came to our table I suddenly realised that I had the sheet of butcher's paper and the whole room was looking at me expectantly. Why does this always happen?
I looked at the sheet before me for inspiration. Amongst our "strategies for coping with change" were listed:
- "think of the money"
- "run away"
- "get upset"
- "take medicine"
Prize winning stuff.
"Well, one of out strategies was to take a step back and remember what reason it was that caused us to take on the challenge in the first place, and re-examine our initial motivation". An adequate transltion of the first point I thought. Ms Spindler nodded so happily I thought her head might fall off.
"The second strategy would be to review the situation and decide if perhaps a different approach is needed." I thought she might faint from sheer joy.
"The third is to allow out emotions to run their course so that we can then look on the situation more rationally afterward". Not bad for improvisation. I decided the fourth point we could probably manage without.
If the cultural difference workshop were to be valuable or interesting in any way, they wouldn't need those two little words would they? Unfortunately I'm a stickler in many ways, and this is one of them. I always have a peculiar paranoia that one day I will wag one of these things and it will turn out that they gave out free cars. Or tell me such sage words of wisdom that I can live the rest of my life in a zen-like state of enlightenment.
Which is how I came to be sitting at a table arranged in the formation they call 'co-operative' in one of the many rabbit warren rooms of the business and marketing building. A nametag on my left breast proudly displayed "Madeleine, Technical University of Delft, The Netherlands" for anyone who cared to know. The palpable reluctance in the room suggested that this was no-one.
Ms Spindler clasped her hands, beamed, and introduced the first 'activity'. This thrilling exercise was charting a recent challenge, complete with high points and low points, on a sheet of butcher's paper. Those are two words that should also inspire caution.
Butchers. Paper.
"Pick an experience that you found challenging, and map how your perceptions changed along the way. Show the low points as dips, and the high points as peaks" said Ms. Spindler. With such a heart-warming and co-operative smile that I felt guilty for not being more enthusiastic.
A challenge... That would probably be the point last week at which I sold out completely, and entered the hated occupation of telemarketer. The job that tethers you with a phone cord, chained with golden shackles, to a desk in a room full of shouting people. Talking to people who make it only too clear that they don't really want to be talking to you either. After a few minutes of drawing I realised my graph resembled nothing so much as a slippery dip. High point: finding out about the $18 an hour base rate. Low point: everything else.
"Now pick those points on your graph that you found most challenging, and discuss those strategies you used to deal with the challenge" Ms. Spindler sang, with even greater enthusiasm than before.
I turned to my poe-faced table mates.
"Well...my strategy was to think of the money."
Sarah, who had endured the recent challenge of living with a girl she didn't like, had responded by moving out. Remy, who had food poisoning on a recent trip to Thailand, had taken medicine.
"We now will have a group discussion about these strategies" said Ms Spindler, her tone of voice indicating that this too would be jolly good fun.
The victims at the table to our left had played along more good-naturedly than we. They strategies included "keeping a diary to cope with change" and "Discussing the problem with friends". Number one; crap, Number two: duh. I wondered if deep down that really meant it, or if they too were merely trying to scrape through the afternoon without their brains leaking out of their ears.
When it came to our table I suddenly realised that I had the sheet of butcher's paper and the whole room was looking at me expectantly. Why does this always happen?
I looked at the sheet before me for inspiration. Amongst our "strategies for coping with change" were listed:
- "think of the money"
- "run away"
- "get upset"
- "take medicine"
Prize winning stuff.
"Well, one of out strategies was to take a step back and remember what reason it was that caused us to take on the challenge in the first place, and re-examine our initial motivation". An adequate transltion of the first point I thought. Ms Spindler nodded so happily I thought her head might fall off.
"The second strategy would be to review the situation and decide if perhaps a different approach is needed." I thought she might faint from sheer joy.
"The third is to allow out emotions to run their course so that we can then look on the situation more rationally afterward". Not bad for improvisation. I decided the fourth point we could probably manage without.
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5:22 AM
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