I got to attend an exclusive event a while back, with a promise that I’d get an inside look at an organization that is big heat in our area. How could I resist? So I took a shower and put on clean underwear and combed my hair and shared the secret word with the security guard to gain entry to the super-special event. OMG, it was absolutely… … a gigantic waste of time. Everything was a platitude, a generic comment, a flowery statement that was supposed to sound like it had great meaning even if there was no there there. Over the course of an hour, I learned that:
I wanted to leap to my feet and do my best Clara Peller impression as I shouted, “Where’s the beef?” I held back, though, and just listened, waiting in vain for a fact or an insight or a bit of wisdom that would justify the environmental impact of my commute. It never arrived. I started squirming in my seat as I looked at the door and wondered how much longer this parade of pablum would continue, but then I noticed something. All around me, people were nodding and smiling. Not nodding off, though; nodding in agreement. When the speaker said it’s important to meet challenges, everyone but me was thinking, “Oh, yeah, you got that right.” I was a bit confused, at first. Why was the audience enthused about a pile of word salad that could be applied by anyone to any situation in life? Why wasn’t everyone else staring at the door and wondering how quickly they could get to their cars? At first, I thought I must be missing something, but then I realized I was viewing it all through a different filter than the smiling throng at the other tables. While I was curious about the organization on display, I had no particular emotional attachment to them, their success, their past or their future. I was merely interested in gaining some understanding about a local institution. At the worst, I’d have some newsy tidbits to impress my friends at a party, if I ever made any friends or got invited to a party. Pretty much everyone else in the audience felt more of a connection to the organization, or at least that’s how it appeared. They had an emotional or financial investment in the history and opportunity, the success and failure, of the people on stage. They came to see someone smart and decisive and strategic and that is apparently what they saw. I’d like to feel superior about the whole thing and think of them as saps who’ll fall for anything, but that would be unfair. In fact, they’re probably smarter than I am, because they found a way to gain more enjoyment and a greater sense of intimacy from their engagement. Maybe I can still salvage something from the experience. Next time someone mentions the organization, I can relate that I actually spent some time with their leaders. I can relate that they need to get the entire team involved to make the tough decisions that can be hard to make because you can’t predict the future on your way to improvement. I'm sure those insights will make me sound like a real insider. If I ever attend a program where I actually learn something, I’ll be sure to share it with all the people who click here to subscribe.
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Who writes this stuff?Dadwrites oozes from the warped mind of Michael Rosenbaum, an award-winning author who spends most of his time these days as a start-up business mentor, book coach, photographer and, mostly, a grandfather. All views are his alone, largely due to the fact that he can’t find anyone who agrees with him. Archives
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