Postcards of the Hanging: (Working Life - Part I)

It’s been just over a couple of weeks, so perhaps now is a good time to talk about this. Twenty or so people at my workplace received their layoff notices. Barely a year ago about fifteen or so staff were also let go. Both moves are related parts of the same re-structuring and deemed to be necessary actions for the sake of the “business”. To use the words of my bitter and cynical co-worker who is one of the walking dead, they have been “transitioned out”. This is the terminology used in our company when staff leaves for causes unrelated to performance but instead due to “business reasons.”

The company I work is the largest in its industry and one of the most recognizable and profitable of all corporations in the world. It is consistently rated as one of the best 100 companies to work for in the U.S. and in Canada it is rated as one of the top 50. Yet in spite of this, during the four years I’ve been there, certain segments of the colleague population have had nothing but uncertainty and threat to their job security. That’s a difficult environment to work in. But, during my first two years I was positioned within one of those groups marking time, living day to day and feeling sour. That’s since been resolved for me and I no longer have these worries. But it was something I had to take into my own hands, something I had to exact myself. Two years ago I received a job offer from another company (that real estate company) which I accepted. A series of events and discussions followed, but in the end I did not leave – this company eventually persuaded me to stay (that’s what they believe).

They did not convince me to stay. They convinced me not to accept that specific offer. This is “one of the best” companies to work for, but at times it’s hard to believe because circumstances betray this. If it is true that this is one of the best, then how unbearable it must be elsewhere, what a hell it is – this working life.

When I was young and naïve, I believed job insecurity cast a dark cloud only within poor performing organizations, companies that were barely solvent, companies that had no option but to take such drastic measures to ensure their survival. How wrong I am, at least for the time being. Has it always been this way? Or is this just characteristic of the modern age? I’ve been employed by three companies in my working life. Two are rated among the best companies in Canada to work for, the third, merely a division of the largest cosmetics company in the world. By all accounts, I’ve worked for ONLY great, not merely good, but GREAT companies. Yet in each one of them, annual purging of staff was seemingly normal course. What hope is there for those in the middle-of-the-road?

Virtually everyone one I know has been laid off from a job at some point - myself, both my brothers, every single one of all my old friends from school. That’s life. I’m not so sure about my more recent friends – I’ve never asked them because I don’t make a point of talking about work anymore. I’ve discovered that no one’s really interested in my problems.

To the credit of my current employer, this round of reductions was handled in a delicate and respectful manner. This is quite a contrast to when I was laid off by four years ago by that cosmetics company. I remember the day the changes were announced, the relocation of all support functions to the US headquarters. I remember the town-hall meeting. I remember that vile fat ass who arrived from New York. I remember the presentation, his phoney charisma, his enthusiasm as he described the glorious future that was in store for the Corporation, the aggressive “positioning” that would come out of that “strategic move”. I remember the sick appalling feeling that overcame me, the disbelief that someone could so caustically describe such a utopian vision to people who only MINUTES prior, had been so causally told they would not be part of that vision.

That division is a young company. It is an astounding overnight success story. If it is possible to identify a company where people are impassioned and dedicated, it is that one. Many were with the company from the very beginning – with the two men who started up the company, and who remained out of loyalty long after those two entrepreneurs sold out to the Corporation. That’s why I hated that day, knowing that a few rows behind me there were people who had an important piece of their lives just ripped away from them.

When I started at that company, everyone I knew was very excited. More than me. Of course, I had never heard of this company because it is part of a glamorous industry and lifestyle that is completely foreign to me. For my women friends, this gave them status within their inner circles – “I have a friend who works for M-C Cosmetics!!” And my male friends were just envious – why could it not be them? Why is it Slowpoke who gets to work at such a company, one that had just had to be crawling with beautiful women? To everyone I knew, this was just too glamorous. I went from uncool to very cool.

Many of life’s superficial and untruthful elements can be found in business.

That company has a office in the heart of the Soho District in New York City. There’s another Marketing office in the Fashion District of Toronto. That’s glamorous. Back office support functions were located in a worn down, single level industrial strip mall in Markham Ontario. The parking lot was cracked and needed repairs and the building was a dive. That’s not exciting. At all. In the office many of the older staff had a hard time letting go of the old culture. The old dress code was all black attire, and while thin, young, twenty –something females at the store counters are especially hot in tight all black clothing, plump middle-aged women in the corporate office are not. That company’s niche is bright colourful product. So just imagine, women in their late forties and fifties trying to look younger than their age, using unskillfully applied bright red, blue and gold make-up and wearing sweaters and pants that are too tight. Embarrassing for them – painful for me.

With all due apologies, and to the dismay of my male “buddies” I had to announce that in the corporate office those delicious young tarts they imagined are just that, a fantasy. Of course, each off-the-cuff denial on my part served only to strengthen their conviction in this fantasy. Whatever.

The day I received my one month lay-off notice was ironically the one year anniversary with the company. It was one of the happiest days of my working life. Scary, but happy and good. Sometimes you need someone else to make those changes you need. Thirteen months of work, nineteen months of pay - started a new job the following week. I told Jack and Helen that I was going to use part of my severance money to buy a saxophone. Helen thought I hit a very pre-mature life crisis. Jack told me to stop wasting my money and to buy a computer instead. – Luckily for me, I don’t always listen to my friends.

Last week my brother accepted a job and he will be starting work again. It happened to him again last summer, and while he’s had a couple of odd assignments, it’s only now that he has something more substantial. Both my brothers work in I.T. They’re both techies. Yet amazingly, in this age of the internet and professional recruiters, one of them always chooses to look for a job the old fashioned way – sending out hard copy letters and resumes by mail. He’s proven to me again, this is the way to look for work. I’ll keep this in mind the next time it happens to me.

Enlightenment

With the month and a half that’s it’s been since I’ve started keeping this journal, perhaps now is a good time to take stock and to review the content of ideas I’ve compiled so far. It’s been a pleasure I must say, sharing these wonderful soulful pearls of wisdom. Over a wide panorama of sacred topics, this blog has been my travel companion, my confidante, serving well as a stage for my confessional mediation. The inspiration has been intoxicating.

Let’s see. . .The subjects of my blogs have included:

- Donuts
- Big Macs
- Coca-Cola
- Television
- Movies
- Music
- Comic books
- Cartoons
- Hockey
- Autograph seeking

(Silence)

(Painful silence)

I AM AN ADOLESCENT IN DISGUISE. THIS IS SO AWFUL. I AM SHALLOW. I AM SPIRITUALLY IMPOVERISHED. I am a coarse human being.

There have been suspicions of this but until now nothing tangible; some general impressions, a few anecdotal quips, but nothing more. Suddenly, there emerges a thorough body of evidence and it’s entirely my own doing.

What sayest thou? Good? Bad?

Good.
. . . Bad?
Good.

No. Bad.

But, I’ve told you a little bit about some of my friends. I am redeemable after all.

Donut or Doughnut

I don’t want to sound cheap. I stumbled across this by accident - I really did. Krispy Kreme doughnuts are free.

A Tim Horton’s donut is the donut I have most often. It is not the donut of choice; it’s the donut of convenience, those stores having become so ubiquitous. Always while I’m often picking up coffee at the same time – coffee does not need donut, but a donut cannot be, without coffee. Tim Horton’s is the least desirable of all donuts. When they ceased in-store baking, when they went to a central bakery to supply all their franchises, they lost some of their freshness. A modern day Tim Horton’s donut is slightly hard, and noticeably smaller than those of many years ago. Country Style has lovely donuts, large and puffy with an extra softness that only freshness brings. The chocolate is more chocolaty; the cream more creamy.

Neither however compares to Krispy Kreme. Sadly, their appeal to the Canadian consciousness appears to be dimming. Many will say their doughnuts are gross and sinful. Unredeemable and appalling unhealthy - consuming a Krispy Kreme doughnut is an act of self-loathing.

I don’t care. It’s just so exciting to be alive.

But - moderation. . . .Who needs to buy a dozen donuts anymore? When I have a craving, I only want one. I can’t eat a dozen – I can’t have a dozen lying around. Every time I go into a Krispy Kreme store, I order one doughnut. I pay for one but they give me two because it is their policy is to give away a free doughnut to every customer. Sometimes they don’t even give me two – they just give me the one for free. I don’t know how many free doughnuts I’ve gotten in the past year. I’m badly spoiled – free original glazed doughnuts are now my entitlement.

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I finally made time to go see Martin Scorcese’s new movie “The Aviator”. What a fantastic movie! Scott TECHRITER saw it weeks ago and he too admires it very much in spite of his disdain for Leonardo DiCaprio.

I understand, and I know he’s not alone. But I think DiCaprio is great – “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”, “A Boy’s Life”, “Basketball Diaries”, “Marvin’s Room”, “Gangs of New York” and now “The Aviator”, all shining examples of a true character actor. Undoubtedly, the bad rap comes from “Titanic” and how unfortunate it is that one bad moment can cloud a person’s life. But. . . but, I’ll come out and admit it - I liked “Titanic”. It’s grand; old-fashioned; a real story told with a comfortable sense of ease. Among men, I need to believe I’m not alone on this one, though I may be. But understand please that I wasn’t so affected; I didn’t react or weep uncontrollably like a hopeless woman. Nope, none of that senseless blubbering over here. Just ask my friend Macy DOGLUVER – she’ll tell you (if she remembers). That reminds me, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her; since I’ve been to Chez Macy’s. Must make a point of dropping by soon - to see her new pictures, to get a roll of film developed and to see little Nathan DOGLUVER.

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Technical update on previous blog: Happy news. My old friend Michelle HATHEAD (“Teaching and Tutoring Part I”) has changed her name to Michelle SOONDOCTR. Congratulations to her.

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So, gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson killed himself. Finally, thirty-five years later, the ‘60’s are dead.

Autographs

I remember reading an article in the Toronto Star a few weeks ago about a website that Margaret Atwood is using to sell “autographed” copies of her books. This site was a solution designed to replace “exhausting, time consuming book tours”, while allowing admiring readers to purchase online signed copies with “authentic” computer generated autographs inscribed in the books.

I wish I had kept that article because right now I can’t recall many of the minute details, but it did convey the wonderful news that this site is failing.

My faith’s been restored, but what a disgraceful commentary on the state of humanity this could have been. “Despite our maneuverings to the contrary, we will always be more animal than robot” wrote John Updike, one of the great American men of letters.

The official press release explaining the lower than anticipated public response to this website, described the surprising “discovery” that personalized handwritten autographs from the author have more sentimental value to readers and fans than electronically manufactured imprints. . . No kidding.

I have a few books that I bought at author signings. In the late ‘80’s, the late Douglas Adams signed my copy of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” when he visited the World’s Biggest Bookstore. In 1998 I waited in line for an hour for John Irving to sign “A Widow for One Year” at the downtown Chapters store on Bloor Street west of Bay. The person in front of me, a young scraggly bohemian type, who I’m sure in another circumstance is quite intelligent and articulate, asked Mr. Irving to sign his worn out paperback copy of “A Prayer for Owen Meany”. Gaping and fawning over his hero, to the entertainment of my bemused self, he finally blurted out that he had read that book six times. Unfazed, Irving replied, “Really? Maybe you should read another book.”

Perhaps, this has happened to him before.

I own many other precious signed articles. I have two caps from the 1997 Prost Formula One team, one each signed by the two drivers, Oliver Panis and Jarno Trulli. I have a photograph from a few years ago of F1 drivers Michael Schumacher and Eddie Irvine standing beside their Ferrari. It is signed by both Schumacher and Irvine. I have comic books including the “Elektra” series signed by the illustrator Bill Sienkiewicz and “Cerebus the Aardvark” volumes signed by Dave Sim. The day I leave this earth, these items are likely destined for incineration, welcome riddance to space occupying junk, but until then, they are priceless to at least one person.

About a year or so before the publication of “A Widow for One Year”, I made my way into one of my favourite little bookstores at that time located at the corner of Avenue Road and Bloor. The store is closed now, having been driven out of business by the opening of that same big box Chapters store just down the street. It turned out that day there was a scheduled appearance by the same Margaret Atwood who was signing her new book “The Robber Bride.” Arguably, Margaret Atwood is just as relevant, intelligent, talented and accomplished as John Irving, but I am not a fan and I have but just a couple of books of hers. They’re not worth anything to me.

Whether we like to admit it or not, we’re all caught up in the cult of celebrity. Everyone. Not just kids clamoring for autographs from their favourite musicians or athletes, but even adults who fool themselves into thinking they’re too old, too sophisticated, too refined, too superior to allow themselves to succumb to some immature form of unrestrained star gazing. But, what’s the difference between a signature at a book signing to an autograph on a baseball or hockey card?

How many times have we all sat around, talked about, made lists of which famous people in history we would like to share a dinner conversation with? Because, we admire them so, because they’re so brilliant, so talented, so . . .INTERESTING. . . Oh how inspired we would be, if allowed to mine the intellects, the talents, the passions of those so great. . . How often have we deluded ourselves into believing these are the real reasons? Only to falter ridiculously with the arrival of the moment of truth, “Golly gee Mr. Irving, I’ve read your book six times!!”

This and That - Weekend without Hockey

Odyssey of Damaged Feet - Synopsis of Events and Degrees of Discomfort

8 Days Ago. Ice Hockey. Hit in the right foot by slapshot from Arnie. Bruised instep. Forgets to ice foot.
Fault: Mine. For standing in the way of Arnie who never thinks.
Blame: Arnie. Every year Arnie injuries me somehow.

7 Days Ago. Ball Hockey. Twisted Left ankle. Forgets to ice foot and ankle.
Fault: Mine
Blame: Me

6 and 5 Days Ago.
SEVERE level of pain in left ankle. Right foot is a MINOR annoyance. Unable to walk. Tried crutches. Discarded crutches as useless

4 and 3 Days Ago.
HIGH level of pain in left ankle. Right foot is recovered. Able to LIMP with HIGH pain.

2 Days Ago.
SOME pain in left ankle. Able to WALK with HIGH pain.

1 Day Ago and Today
SOME pain in left ankle. Able to WALK with SOME pain.

Reactions:
Boss: No sympathy

Colleagues in Workgroup:
FACT: No offers to alleviate workload.
PROGNOSIS: Strong reaction, but no sympathy.

Other male co-workers: Much Ridicule and Jealousy ?

Older matronly female co-workers: Much sympathy (Eventually much annoying)

Friends: Much sympathy (Much appreciated)

Apparently, the company store has stuff that can help me with this. – Never thought to investigate this until someone mentioned it.


Saturday night – Daniel’s concert.

Daniel is my saxophone teacher and every year this time he does a jazz performance at his church. He performs often in public but I never catch him at those other events because they’re all classical music. I’d like to say I catch this performance every year, but I’d be lying. I went three years ago, missed last year because I was in New York, missed two years ago for I can’t remember why, but probably because I wanted to go to sleep early like I do every Saturday night.

Good show. Daniel’s a great musician. He played a lot of standards, “A Night in Tunisia”, “St. Thomas”, “My Romance”, “My Funny Valentine”, and “Fly Me to the Moon.” He has a much different sound than the jazz recordings I have of these from more recognizable jazz musicians. He played on alto rather than tenor which is more typical for these tunes, and because he’s primarily a classical musician, his intonation is smoother, rounder than I’ve heard for almost anyone else. He’s on tour in Vancouver and Washington state next month. What a lifestyle.


Sunday Night – Jack’s Place

I haven’t seen Jack in over a year, so this was I first time I’ve seen his new house and his son Joshua. Big head, just like Jack. Erika’s bigger now. Last year she was much smaller, happy but very quiet. I had to read a lot of dog stories to her. This time, I had to play dolls and house with her. She really has a lot of toys. Helen says Erika has become very shy, perhaps even at three and a half, she’s already learning about the way of the world. I’m not sure though – I don’t think it’s shy if a child asks you four or five times to play with her. She’s making a liar out of her mom. Beware.

Nutrition?

So have you seen those new bright red cans? With the ugly square white labels, that used to sport those smart looking NHL logos or the Olympic rings, those white labels that now provide us nutrition value”? - for Coca-Cola. Yes. Coke cans now have the “Nutrition Value” wrapped around the tin.

As someone who champions junk food, Classic Coke in particular, even I am think this is funny, an action both incomprehensible and indefensible. Over the years we the addicts, the loyal and the forlorn, have had to tolerate the New Coke, Vanilla Coke, Cherry Coke, and many other mutated travesties while they fumbled away in the dark, seeking clarity and direction before re-finding their way down their original path back to Coke Classic. And lest we forget the bitter disappointment with the switch from glass bottles to plastic - has it not tasted the same since? How much patience are we supposed to have? How much can we be expected to endure?

Over time, there is forgiveness and understanding for even the most obtuse of all indiscretions.

But this latest. . . now, unless there’s some sort of regulatory or “health” requirement, why would they do this? It’s just embarrassing. Small victories one after another - that’s success – that’s how empires were built - you need to pick your fights, the ones you know you’ll win. Emphasing “great taste”, and “refreshment”, okay, this I understand. But, “nutrition value” for Coca-Cola? Why pretend you’re something you’re not? No moral victories to be had, is this just arrogance from a entity that thinks it’s bigger than life itself? Someone down there is trying to pull a fast one.

Ridicule aside, I suppose all new information is good information. . . .

. . . Okay, I’ve looked at it - and this might be the exception. This information might in fact be no information – take a look, you’ll see what I mean.

So here we go. Opening bell. A fight to captivate the nation:

Coca-Cola vs. President’s Choice Soya drink

Coca-Cola, 355 ml can
Calories 160
Fat 0 g
Sodium 40 mg , 2% of Daily Value
Cabohydrates 42 g, 14% of Daily Value
Sugars 42 g
Protein 0 g
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President’s Choice Soya Drink (chocolate) 355 ml serving
Energy 212 Cal/640 KJ
Protein 8.8 g
Total Fat 4.1 g
- polyunsaturates 1.4 g
- Linoleic acid 1.3 g
- Monounsaturates 0.7 g
- Saturates 0.7 g
- Cholesterol 0 mg
Total Carbohydrates 36.5 g
- Sugars 32 g
- Starch/ Amidon 1.1 g
- Dietary Fibre 3.4 g
Sodium 212 mg
Potassium 570 mg
Percentage of Recommended Daily Intake
- Vitamin A 14%
- Vitamin D 60%
- Vitamin C 6%
- Thiamine 11%
- Ribflavin 32%
- Niacin 1.3
- Vitamin B6 8%
- Folacin 8%
- Vitamin B12 70%
- Pantothenate 18%
- Calcium 40%
- Phosphorus 32%
- Iron 13%
- Zinc 15%

WINNER BY KO: President’s Choice Soya Drink

If you pretend it’s chocolate milk, it’s not so bad.

If 2/7/'05 was a season of "24"?

12:00 am to 12:59 am - Special Agent Slowpoke is hanging up clean laundry. These are clothes he will wear in a few hours.

1:00 am to 1:59 am - Sleeping

2:00 am to 2:59 am - Sleeping. Possibly dreaming.

3:00 am to 3:59 am - Sleeping

4:00 am to 4:59 am - Special Agent Slowpoke gets up to go pee. After peeing, SASP goes back to sleep.

5:00 am to 5:59 am - Sleeping

6:00 am to 6:59 am - Sleeping.

7:00 am to 7:59 am - Special Agent Slowpoke hauls his ass out of bed.

8:00 am to 8:59 am - While driving into work, SASP listens to a radio interview with Kevin Smith discussing “Degrassi High”! Crisis! Driving down the 404 there is heavy traffic! SASP was hoping to stop off for breakfast, but with the traffic, “dammit, there’s not enough time!” Skillful, aggressive driving! Finally at 8:55am, there’s arrival at the affiliate office of a Global organization whose mission is to improve the lives of all Mankind. Realizes he forgot to buy a coffee!!

9:00 am to 9:59 am - Makes tea instead!! SASP engages in his “First thing in the morning “ routine, then undertakes pointless non-fulfilling spreadsheet work. Completes first task of the day. Responds to email message from Mister Jack who expresses consternation about Thursday plans! Crisis averted when SASP responds by offering Sunday alternative!

10:00 am to 10:59 am - In the hallway, encounters VJ who starts commiserating about life, work and his relationship with Catwoman. Engages in active listening but immediately dismisses content as tripe disinformation.

11:00 am to 11:59 am - More non-fulfilling spreadsheet work.

12:00 pm to 12:59 pm - SASP goes out to Tim Horton’s for lunch and buys coffee. Near crisis as it initially appears there are no chocolate donuts left! After lunch, he wastes time at Futureshop. Gets stuck in parking lot behind other cars!!

1:00 pm to 1:59 pm - Manages to get out of parking lot!! Back at the office, he receives weekly email about ball hockey availability. Responds affirmative, but then contemplates the wisdom of this decision in light of hockey injury to his right foot. Sends out a couple of personal emails!

2:00 pm to 2:59 pm - Daily administrative casework.

3:00 pm to 3:59 pm - Calls Mastercard to activate new credit card!

4:00 pm to 4:59 pm - Takes a break from tedious work by looking for someone still hanging around the office he can goof off with. Forced to settle for former manager. Wonderful.

5:00 pm to 5:59 pm - Driving home with low fuel in the car. Looks around for a good gas station, but unsuccessfully. “Dammit, there’s line-ups at every gas station!!”

6:00 pm to 6:59 pm - Dinner!!

7:00 pm to 7:59 pm - Finishes dinner, and starts to practice his saxophone playing. Throws tantrum because practice is not going well!

8:00 pm to 8:59 pm - Finishes practicing! Sets up VCR to record this week’s episode of some show starring Kieffer Sutherland. Leaves house to play ball hockey with friends at the gym.

9:00 pm to 9:59 pm - Plays ball hockey for exercise. Frustrated because he plays poorly.

10:00 pm to 10:59 pm - Finishes playing ball hockey after injuring himself. Brilliant. First, bruised right foot, now twisted left ankle. Drives to Richmond Hill township office to leave a cheque in the overnight drop-off box to pay for his Property taxes! Arrives at home and starts to watch the episode of “24” that was just recorded!

11:00 pm to 11:59 pm - Finishes watching the current episode of “24”. Spends the rest of February 7, 2005 reading the Japanese novel “Out”, by Natsuo Kirano.

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Okay, so I wasn’t called upon to save America from international terrorists.

Maybe tomorrow.

Factual – Metaphor for Life

New Books I want to Read:

Saturday – Ian McEwan
Bark of the Dogwood – Jackson McCrae
Never Let Me Go – Kazuo Ishiguro
Eventide – Kent Haruf
Kafka on the Shore – Haruki Murakami
The Pacific – Mark Helprin
The Good Neighbours – William Kowalski
My Life as a Fake – Peter Carey
Bob Dylan Chronicles Volume One
Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell

New Books I’ve Read:

Vernon God Little – DBC Pierre

Teaching and Tutoring - Part I

The first week of February each year is always a good few days for me. Those of you who are close to me know that I teach a course twice a year in the fall and in the spring. For students enrolled in my fall lectures, this is the week the exam results are released and there are always about a half dozen or so who either call or email me to let me know they passed.

You may have known this is something I keep myself busy with, but I’ve never fully described this to any of you, nor have I told you what this really means to me.

My course is Advanced Financial Accounting which I teach it for the Certified General Accountants Assoc of Ontario (CGA). I’ve been doing this for 6 years and the upcoming spring session will be the thirteenth time I’ve done this same course. It’s held at U of T, Erindale campus, though I once also did it at Ryerson. It is what they call a “professional” level course. For most students it is one of the last courses they need for their designation - it is usually taken in the fourth or fifth year of study in the program.

The course is equivalent, but not identical to, I think probably a 4th year undergrad course in a Commerce program. But even if you had completed a university equivalent course, the association still forces you to enroll and completed this one. This may have changed in the last couple of years as I’ve encountered students who wrote a “challenge exam” instead. But no one receives full exemption as with introductory or intermediate level accounting courses.

The course consists of 10 weekly lectures, two hours each followed by a review session in the 11th week. The review session is an all day affair, typically on a Saturday morning from 9am to 4:30pm. Two lecture sessions, and 3 or 4 review sessions works out to 23-24 lectures per year for a total of approx 60-65 lecture hours. In addition, I conduct 80-100 hours of private tutoring. In total, I’ve had about 700 students so far with classes ranging from 20 to 80 students, though 40 is probably the normal class size.

I have a reputation for being one of the best lecturers in the association, and possibly the best for my particular course. This is an accurate comment. The few of you who are reading this are close to me, so there’s no point in exaggerating or showing off to you. I think you know I’m not the type to do that anyway.

I know first hand this is a view shared by students, members of the CGA office and fellow lecturers/ tutors. It is not an accident that I’m as good at this as I am – I’ve spent a lot of effort teaching myself how to do this. Teaching may look effortless, but it’s really quite difficult to do well. A couple years ago I was having trouble tutoring MK and I asked my friend Michelle HATHEAD for help in this. She offered lots of good advice which I did not use (sorry). In the past, I’ve taken a seminar, had a mentor, conversed with other lecturers, but I’ve decided that teaching well in large depends on individual style and therefore unfortunately, must be self-taught.

A close friend of mine has told me a couple of times that teaching is something she always wanted to do. But the idea of speaking in front of a group petrifies her. If you knew her, this would surprise you because she is very outgoing. I am the opposite – I am not particularly outgoing and it surprises many people that I can speak to a group as I do. If I can do it, anyone can. But it must be learned. I do not believe the ability to teach comes naturally to anyone.

Not everyone thinks I’m good – I’ve had a share of students walk out in the middle of classes. For some, teaching is their full-time livelihood, their job. But there are many people who do this for personal reasons only - for them, us, me, it can hurt when someone walks out on you. Over time, this happens less often and it bothers you less and less, and soon not at all. You learn eventually that your purpose is not to help those who leave, but those who stay.

This job has rewards that are not attainable anywhere else.

At work, people have thanked me for completing spreadsheets and adding up numbers.
In class, after class, people have thanked me for helping them believe in their ability.

They’re not the same. One’s worth more than the other.

Three and a half years ago, SH attended my class. I also tutored her and a couple of others in a small group. She wasn’t working – she was a stay-at-home mom who had a former life as an engineer, and she was taking courses because she wanted to change careers. Her lack of work experience in this area was a significant disadvantage to her as a student. I did not believe she could pass the exam.

Last year she sent an unexpected note to tell me that she was doing well with the rest of her studies and that she was very excited because she just started her first job with a public accounting firm. I thought that was nice. I’ve never made an attempt to get to know any of the teachers I’ve ever had – never mind staying in touch. A couple of months ago I saw her at the university and was lucky enough to get to speak to her for a few minutes.

Last year I tutored PM from the Barbados. He attempted this exam unsuccessfully four times back home. His employer allowed him to take a leave of absence for a few months to come to Canada to study and write the exam. A few months afterwards he sent me a nice note from the Barbados to tell me he had passed the exam on his fifth attempt. When you fail an exam four times it means you’ve been struggling with the course for 3 or four years, so when you pass, it is a very big deal.

Sometimes I look in the Members Directory and I see the names of people who attended my class on their way to completing their designation. I see that many of them now have better jobs than I do. Five years ago, I sat around after class talking to KR who found the courses a tremendous burden. It was “so hard” and she wanted to know from me if it “was all worth it” or not. Today, I see she has a better job than I do. I’ve heard people say that this is a mark of a great teacher, when students go on and eventually surpass those who helped them. Since I’m not really a career teacher, I feel this is both good and bad. Bad, because I wonder if I’ve managed my own career properly.

Last year Marija from my workplace attended one of my review sessions. She was quite surprised when she found out it was me. “Oh you’re the Slowpoke!” The following week she couldn’t stop telling everyone at work about my class. My manager wondered aloud why at work I’m not the person Marija described, vocal, enthusiastic, confident, opinionated, funny and in complete control. Marija also described to me amusing things the women in class were saying about me in the washroom during breaks. Because she knows me I wasn’t sure if she was being truthful or having fun at my expense. If I had decided to believe her, then there were 4 or 6 caddy women in the washroom who prattled away that I was really hot, who wondered whether or not I was married, and who speculated that I probably made a lot of money. (?!)

Later she qualified her comments by saying that I just fare well in comparison to other lecturers who are old and staid. . . Thanks Marija.

Toilet Training

I’m at my workplace right now and just a few minutes ago I was in the washroom taking my morning crapper. It’s my private time that I use to enjoy my reading. I was just about done when I heard my boss talking to someone else outside my stall. When this happens, and it’s quite frequent that it does, I try to avoid him by staying inside my stall and waiting until he goes away.

I apply this technique for everyone I have no interest in talking to.

Once, a while ago, I slipped up and paid heavily. I found myself backed into a conversation I didn’t want to have because it related to work I hadn’t done yet.

My other technique is to wait people out by standing in front of the urinal with my back to them even long after I’m done. This is the less preferred alternate strategy. It is more challenging because those few seconds you’re delaying feel like an eternity – it’s a test of wills and a real measure of one’s inner strength to continually do this. In our company it’s especially difficult because we have mouthwash in each washroom. This provides a convenient but very annoying lingering tactic. But much worst than the gargling, are the people who just stand around forever in front of the mirror combing their hair. At this point I’m usually defeated – there’s a limit to how long I’m willing to stand around with my fly open.

I am such a chicken.