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Desperately seeking salvation in the PS training routine
By An Aspiring Middle-Manager
The move to a "more commer
cial style of operation" in the Public
Scrvice has meant that many Can
berra public servants have had to
change their way of doing things.
Too many managers have tried to
manage this change with the direc
tive: "Organise training courses for
'em."
" "But our training section is too
small to organise something like
this;" comes the response.
"Well, get in some consultants."
The people who actually run con
sultant training courses used to be
called conveners - but are now
called facilitators. Facilitators are
employed on a contract basis by the
consultant firm.
Hike to think that I started going
to these courses with an open mind.
(The same open mind I took to
courses on FMIP - Financial
Management Improvement - a
few years ago. Whatever happened
to FMIP?)
However, as a public servant
with seniority in years rather than
in position, struggling with the
change I found little affinity with
these facilitators and little value in
their training courses.
So many courses, with different
names, covered the same inconse
quential topics and any conclusions
reached were nothing more than
"common sense".
The courses followed a similar
routine.
At 9.10am, when everyone is"
seated around the room with a
manual and a name tag on their
desks, the facilitator has the bright
idea of asking each person to "tell
us something about yourself and
what you hope to get out of this
course". (The best answer I heard to
the second of these questions was "a
free lunch".)
The facilitator then introduces
and describes himself or herself (to
such a degree that all at the course
feel very inferior) and then launches
into the business of the day.
Each facilitator feels obliged to
start with a performance. An "at
tention grabber" that will show how
he or she is "different from any
facilitator you've ever seen before".
Then it is morning tea.
This is followed by the inevitable
series of overheads with a commen
tary that invariably includes
"Strong, who turned around Aus
tralian Airlines" and "the gurus, Pe
ters and Watermann".
Late in proceedings, the facilitat
or then does a "summing up" and
invites questions. Giving long an
swers to simple questions usually
limits the number of questions that
the facilitator has to answer.
Of course, after every course you
are asked to fill out a questionnaire
on what you thought of the course.
"Be perfectly frank," the facilitator
will say.
I was always frank. But the
courses never changed. However, I
found that the fault lay in myself
rather than in the facilitators or
their courses.
It was close to five o'clock and, to
terminate a discussion on how
"fruitful" the day had been, a slight
ly hassled facilitator told me, "You
have an attitude problem towards
training courses."
I accepted that. This "problem"
must be the reason that, when I
went back to my job, I could never
relate anything from the training
coursc to my duties. I noticed that
clever young public servants who
enthusiastically embraced all the
precepts of these training courses
were applying for jobs in "budget
funded" areas, ie, areas not moving
so quickly to a "more commercial
style of operation". I did the same
and, temporarily, escaped the train
ing courses.
But then it started again. My
friendly "learning opportunities co
ordinator" and my not-so-friendly
immediate superior said that I must
take training to the value of 1.5 per
cent of my salary.
I dodged TQM and the QA, what
ever they were. I avoided "Manag
ing People" and "Budgeting for Be
ginners".
But things were becoming tense.
Then I saw the course I wanted.
"Punctuation and Proof Reading"
at the ANU with a "Dr" as the
facilitator. I enrolled.
On the first morning, the "Dr"
told us his name was George. He
spoke quietly and slowly. He gave
us a passage of English and invited
us to cross out any unnecessary cap
ital letters. One person crossed out
11 capitals, another 46, and the rest
somewhere in between.
"Collectively, we are in a state of
chaos over capitals," said Dr
George, with a beautiful smile.
So began two days of adventures
in English. (There were no name
tags but Dr George was soon using
our names).
The good doctor loved good
English. Some passages of official
correspondence were so well writ
ten, they brought "tears to his eyes".
Others caused his face to grimace
painfully. He described such as
"yuk" and, when asked what he
thought of the Style Manual so re
vered by Public Service managers,
he replied, in an ice-edged voice,
"My view on that cannot be pub
lished."
During the last session someone
asked, "What do you do if you write
something that you know is written
correctly and your boss changes it
so that it is written incorrectly and
then says this is how it will be writ
ten."
Dr George replied, "I suggest you
say to your boss that he should not
send you on training courses if you
are not allowed to use what you
learn on the training course."
I had occasion to use this advice
recently. It worked!
These days I am not afraid to
split the occasional infinitive or
start a sentence with "and" and I
will happily hyphenate a compound
adjective used attributively. I also
know that if I check with Dr
George's notes I can tell when I
should use "which" and when I
should use "that".
Once again i am thinking posi
tively career-wise, as Dr George al
so told us "good writers go up the
promotion ladder - ultimately".
If nothing happens soon, it can
only mean I have to improve my
writing further. So I'll take more
English courses. That will be as en
joyable as a promotion. More im
portantly, it will chip away at that
1.5 percent.
But, alas, it is my experience that
good English is not always a part of
a "more commercial style of opera
tion".
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