The Diary of a Reluctant Management Consultant

Steve from Accounting might be taking the 2010 World Cup a little too seriously...

There was a mini-carnival in office this week, as the company celebrated 50 days to the start of the 2010 Soccer World Cup. Or as I like to think of it, only 81 days to the end of the 2010 Soccer World Cup. Only fifty more days to the largest sporting event in the world or as I like to think of it, the largest traffic jam Johannesburg has ever seen.

It certainly was a celebration – the marketing people went crazy. We had a concert in the park next to our offices. Well, also next to the multi-storey, concrete car park, but no matter. Local artist HHP performed. I was unaware that Double-HP (as it’s said) was a musician; I thought it was a new, improved version of HP sauce (“Now with twice the flavour!”). We had flags emblazoned all over the office. Most of them belong to the countries participating in the World Cup. Conspicuous by their inclusion were the flags of Iran, Uganda and the Ukraine. Obviously calls to check the list of flags purchased against the list of qualifying teams were dismissed as being overly ‘nit-picky’. We had students masquerading as footballers and fans, singing and chanting at the top of their voices. I admire their enthusiasm, but couldn’t they start singing after eight? It’s a bit disconcerting when you get into the office at seven, only to be greeted by hordes of people singing soccer songs. Joburgers don’t like surprises. Sudden movements and loud noises make us think we’re being hijacked, so perpetrators, even singing students, are liable to get shot.

But amongst all this merriment were a few unhappy employees, proving once again that you can’t keep all the people happy all the time, especially if they work for a bank. The reason for their consternation was the fact that our kind company will be giving each employee – that’s right, all 34,000 of them – an official South African supporter’s shirt. That’s a lot of free shirts.

The first complaint that I heard was doubts over whether it will really be an official shirt. I don’t see why the bank would go out and buy 34,000 unofficial shirts. I imagine they’re buying them from the official distributor rather than the Oriental Plaza or Matthews, the street vendor at the intersection of William Nicol and Sandton Drive. While Matthews is a savvy marketer, selling soccer shirts, perfume and super glue, I doubt he passed the bank’s stringent vendor requirements which sadly exclude a traffic light as a place of business.

Next, someone whined that that they had already bought soccer shirts. They felt that their employer needed to inform them of their goodwill earlier, thereby preventing them from spending R500 of their own money unnecessarily. I quietly took the nuisance aside and explained to him the concepts of a ‘returns policy’ and regifting.

The final straw was one party-pooper who criticised the bank for buying the shirts because he felt we would now incur an additional tax expense because the gift of the shirt could be construed as a fringe benefit. No prizes for guessing what department this Grinch works in.

Can’t people just be happy with getting a free soccer shirt? Is that too much to ask?

A friend who works for one of the Big Five, Four or Three (I can’t keep track) auditing firms also received a free soccer shirt. However, he is a little disappointed because on the back of the shirt it says ‘No. 1 KPMG’. Lucky he doesn’t work for PriceWaterhouseCoopers because you’d need two shirts to fit the name in. There might be some merit in this complaint. I remember receiving a very nice university tie when attending the Commerce Ball in my Honours year. The ladies received very nice scarves… too bad it had ‘Wits Commerce Ball 1996’ written all over it. Sort of limits your options of when to wear it a second time.

I already have a South African supporter’s soccer shirt, which I will be wearing as soon as I’ve found a tie to match… I can’t wait for the company’s ‘40 days to the World Cup’ celebration!

I'm just as surprised as you to find out that our teambuilding event is happening at a spa...

A friend of mine just called to let me know that the details of her department’s teambuilding event has been finalised. The process of deciding what teambuilding event to have this year was very democratic (everyone feels they have to have a say these days). People submitted their suggestions to the department’s administrative assistant (remember when these people were called ‘secretaries’?), who then collated the suggestions and ranked them in an Excel spreadsheet. Seriously, they documented their teambuilding suggestions in a spreadsheet! But it gets worse. Using voting buttons in Outlook, people could then vote on the options contained in the attached and aforementioned spreadsheet. The person formerly known as the secretary then tallied up the votes manually (amateur…), declared a winner and the announcement on the winning teambuilding event was made this morning! Imagine the process involved when this particular company has something serious to consider!

Ignore for a minute the long and drawn out process to decide something as arbitrary as where they’re going to pretend to bond with their colleagues, when in actual fact all they want is a day out of the office… Because even more startling is the winning choice: a trip to a spa! That’s right; this particular department is planning on exploring their group dynamic, developing their ability to work effectively as a team and generally improving their leadership skills by getting hot stone massages! Astounding!

My first thought is to have a go at the genius who suggested the spa as a teambuilding event. What were they thinking? What were some the other suggestions – multiple mullets at the hairdresser, podiatry for all, or perhaps even a team Tarot card reading? How on earth will this team perform better next Monday after spending an indulgent day getting facials, manicures and in some disturbing cases, their backs waxed?! The latter wasn’t my idea; it’s on the spa’s list of services! Can’t they just go quad biking like everyone else?

But the culprit who suggested the spa can’t take all the blame; they just came up with the idea. It’s the Paris Hiltons who supported the idea that are also guilty of idiocy. Sort of like Communism… Just think; there’s a small group of people working at a listed South African company who are hoping that spending the day with their colleagues wearing only bathrobes and towels will foster group cohesion and a high performance culture. I am happy to admit that I do not hold shares in this particular company. There’s no truth to the rumour that in lieu of dividends, shareholders will now receive a gift basket of bath salts, body butter and lavender incense.

A quick analysis of the gender distribution of my friend’s department suggests that a few men must have voted for the spa option too. The irresistible lure of a free back wax perhaps? Forgive the gender bias, but when faced with a choice of abseiling down a cliff, river rafting or a trip to a spa, what fine, upstanding man chooses the spa? I have a theory or two, but fear I’ll be made to attend Diversity training… again.

Oh well, different strokes for different effeminate folks, I suppose. Early this year, I attended a teambuilding function that consisted of beer, a barbeque and bad karaoke. I am happy to report that the team worked well to throw people into the pool and that group cohesion was particularly good during our rendition of Vanilla Ice’s “Ice, Ice Baby”! Spa or no spa, at least it’s a day out the office!

Party like it's Financial Year End...

Christmas is a fantastic time of the year. People are full of joy, love and the spirit of giving. In my experience, the ‘joy’ is the result of the tequila, the ‘love’ is what some colleagues have for each other as they stumble back to the function whilst adjusting their clothes and the ‘giving’ mostly involves providing your colleagues with something to talk about for years to come. That’s right; the Christmas party season is well and truly underway! Big or small, low budget or lavish, fancy dress or black tie, employees all over the world are throwing their names away like Amy Winehouse at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting chaired by Lindsay Lohan.

The Christmas party is a great way to end the year. The year has usually been a very long one, full of stress, frustration and indigestion… and that’s just the vending machines. And of course, if I’m in your building, chances are, someone’s been or is about to be asked to pursue their career objectives at an alternate organisation. But the Christmas party is a little bit of solace, a chance to relax, let your hair down (unless you’re Microsoft’s Steve Ballmer) and celebrate your successes (singular in the case of General Motors).

Apart from having a great time at a Christmas party, watching your colleagues is the real highlight of the event. During the course of the year, most people are well behaved, controlled and shy, but invite them to the Christmas party and everyone’s inner-Courtney-Love comes out. Who knew that Sharon in accounting knows all the dance steps from Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” music video? After a display like that, you can guarantee no one’s rushing to “put a ring on it”! I’ve had to help a colleague get home safely because he parked in the wrong driveway and wondered why his remote control wouldn’t open “his” garage door. I’ve also been fortunate enough to witness fellow team members spank each other on the dance floor. Great at the time, but resulted in far too many awkward stares in the canteen the next day. And speaking of being a witness, I was once asked to be one at a colleague’s disciplinary hearing following a project Christmas party. Don’t ask.

The saddest Christmas party that I’m thankful not to have attended was one held by a client’s sister company in London. The “party” was held in the foyer, after hours. It had a not-so-joyous fixed end time because “the cleaning staff will start cleaning promptly at 19:30″. Entertainment consisted of a laptop connected to tiny speakers. Catering was care of the local fast food restaurant, with the invitation encouraging that “Orders must be in by 16:00, at the very latest or you will not eat” and drinks consisted of whatever came with your Big Mac. To add insult to injury, partygoers were charged £10 to attend! Talk about being filled with the spirit of giving!

You may have already thrown your name away this year, but here are a few quick tips for your Christmas party:

• Don’t use a bus as landmark to remember where you parked your car… you know, in case it drives away
• Don’t eat the chicken or the fish
• You may be speaking to God via the big, white, porcelain telephone if you’ve ingested more Jägermeister than it’s meant to digest
• Check to see if you’re the only guy dancing to the Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men”
• Silk ties are not meant to be used as headbands
• Beware of these two words: Stroh Rum
• Find the nearest bathroom if people are complimenting you on your cute boxer shorts
• It’s time to go home when someone says “Dude you’re a tequila monster”

Office Superman, you will get noticed!

A strange sense of giddiness overcame offices across the country this week. Women prancing round the office in shocking pink dresses, garnished with flowers in their hair, men wearing goofy ties over t-shirts and even one brave individual sporting a Superman outfit! I’m told the latter is an engineer, which explains so much. He probably wears his underwear on the outside regularly. The reason for all this frivolity is Spring Day, the 1^st of September for us lucky Southern Hemisphere residents. And later in the week came Casual Day, a fairly recent and pointless invention, if it wasn’t raising money for charity.

I find invented holidays and celebrations very annoying. There’s really no need for Secretaries Day. Why celebrate only one thankless but necessary profession? Surely then we also need to celebrate Uninformed Call Centre Agent Day, Random Guy Who Fixes the Photocopier Day and Lazy Canteen Cashier Day? Then there’s National Braai (barbeque, if you’re not South African) Day, the patron of which is rather unexpectedly and incongruously, Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. Who would have thought that one the side benefits of winning a Nobel Peace Prize is getting to champion the cause of grilled meat? Gandhi was a shoe in if wasn’t for the hunger strikes…

Spring Day sees the company cheerleaders dash around the office the night before draping streamers over desks, balancing balloons on credenzas and leaving party hats on your desk – the cheap kind with the flimsy staples and elastic that will graze your chin when it snaps (blame the global economic crisis for this too). When you walk in the next morning it looks like someone had a children’s party the night before and didn’t clean-up. All that’s missing is the clown… until of course the engineer in the Superman outfit arrives.

Now, Casual Day is very different proposition and requires more crowd participation. Basically, you donate some money to charity, get a sticker proving your benevolence and in return you get to wear casual clothes to work. Genius… if you work for a company that still dresses up formally. The last few companies that I worked for have all had fairly relaxed dress codes, thereby negating any desire to dress up casually on a particular day because a poster in the canteen told you to. If you still wear suits and ties to work, then I see the benefit, but this is becoming rarer in companies today. I wore a suit and tie on my first day at one company a couple of years ago and they asked me to stop that because it was intimidating the staff. Lucky they didn’t see my 10MB Excel “people off payroll” spreadsheet…

I guess Casual Day reminds me of school where we called it Civvies Day. Same concept, you bring some money and a can of food for the poor and you get the privilege of not having to wear your school uniform. The money and food went to a good cause, although one year we were asked to bring cans of more basic food stuff. Seems the poor had very little need for John West’s canned mussels, asparagus spears or artichoke hearts. Think of it as canned food re-gifting. Private school, go figure. Civvies Day was entertaining, especially the one year when we managed to convince two new boys that it involves a ‘best dressed’ competition, causing them wear tuxedos the next day, much to our amusement and their distress and no doubt, long term trauma. It was very funny though… An idea perhaps for when your next intake of graduates start?

Tomorrow, I’ll go to work where the Spring Day decorations are probably still up, limply adorning my cubicle. For entertainment value, I think I’m going to dress up as Desmond Tutu next year…