New Year resolution
I hereby pledge to carefully research every single customer I will be visiting. This means talking to the account manager, reviewing outstanding service requests and making a courtesy call to the technical contact to confirm the arrangements and scope the work.
And most important of all, check that there is no 'Bring Your Kids To Work Day' planned in the near future.
Friday 22 December 2006 should have been a quiet day for me. A time to submit the final timesheet and send off expenses before the end of the year. A time to clear out the Inbox and adjourn to sing carols around the Christmas Tree.
But no, on the last working day before Christmas, I was summoned to a client who desperately wanted someone on-site to look into some odd performance problems.
As I walked through reception, I noted an unusually high number of children running around, playing 'It' in the corporate restaurant. As I walked up the stairs, my host kindly picked a red sticker off the back of my jacket. 'Oh, a young lad stuck this on you downstairs.'
We get a coffee and settle down to some detailed analysis of sluggish performance and obtuse behaviour. Or rather, we try to but our concentration is interrupted by a screaming baby. I look across the office to see a lady sitting alone at a desk, typing with a very unhappy, red faced baby sitting in a buggy alongside.
I recognise the symptoms. This baby is inconsolable. This baby is telling his mummy that he is not really enjoying this unexpected and unwelcome change to his environment. This baby is past the point of no return. This baby is screaming its lungs out and will be for another 10 minutes.
My host must be psychic as he senses my irritation and sheepishly confesses: 'Today Is Bring Your Children To Work Day and all employees are encouraged to bring their children in to the office.'
I reply 'Oh what a lovely idea. I truly wish my company introduce this idea next year so my children can come and see me in my office environment.' while thinking 'Oh what an absolutely ridiculous idea. What complete idiot dreamed this one up.'
In actual fact, my children did come to visit my offices once (to reduce a long car journey somewhere). They were simply awestruck as I walked them down a corridor past bays of people typing on keyboards and staring at computer screens. They stole curious glances at name tags and paraphernalia (photos, jokes, mascots) on people's cubes. They looked, with fascination, at sales guys closing important business deals on the telephone.
Then we arrived at my desk which had a computer, keyboard and monitor. No name tag. No photos of them dressed as reindeers pulling funny faces. No office witticisms. No 'Beyond the Expected' award. No post-its. No motivational posters. No photos of my wife. No photos of Norman Whiteside. Nothing.
'Is this it ?'
'Err, well yes'.
'So this is where you work ?'
'Well, err, yes'.
'But it's just like your computer at home.'
'Well yes I know.'
'So what do you actually do here ?'
'Well, I type on this keyboard and look at this monitor. Oh and sometimes I think.'
'So why do you have to come here to work ?'
'Well sometimes I have important meetings and sometimes I have to talk to people.' (gesturing around to all my colleagues who are heads down desperately praying I will go away).
'Oh and I have a telephone - look'.
'But it's just a telephone. Dad. I'm bored.'
'Well I do have this pedestal with a couple of books and a booklet describing the corporate values...'
'Dad - this is so boring. Can we go now ?'
'Look kids - come on. You haven't seen the photocopier and the kitchen yet.'
We walk up the corridor and I was praying for someone to acknowledge me, ask me a question, rib me about the football. But nothing. Complete silence.
'Look Norma. Here is the photocopier where I copy my expense receipts.'
'Dad - come on. Let's go.'
'But look Norman. We can't go without seeing the coffee machine and the sports and social club notice board.'
So, if Human Resources suggest a 'Bring your kids to work day' on May 22, don't think that is a lovely idea. It isn't.