The Annoying Habits of Highly Ineffective People

November 24th, 2007 at 06:13am Keith Hemstreet 8

As I waited in line at the bank the other morning, I was privileged to overhear a staff meeting that was happening in the adjoining conference room.  About a dozen people, mostly young tellers, sat around a rectangular table in high-back swivel chairs, each equipped with a legal pad and pen.

“Let’s talk about quality customer service,” the manager said to the staff.  “How can we set ourselves apart?  Well, one way we can set ourselves apart is to provide superior customer service.”

A young man hunched over his legal pad and began taking notes.  I imagined the eager lad writing something atop the page like, “Quality Customer Service: How to Differentiate Yourself and Wow the Customer.” But the reality is that he wasn’t taking notes on what was being said.  It’s more likely he was sketching an elaborate portrait of his attractive co-worker in a skimpy bikini, or naked, or…well, we’ll leave it at that.

The act of taking notes during a meeting is just that, an act.  I have legal pads full of notes stuffed in my desk drawer that I have never once referenced.  In my experience, note taking is done for two reasons:  First, to pretend that you care about what is being said during the meeting.  Second, to stay awake while someone babbles on about things you simply don’t care about.

As I listened to the lecture on customer service, I felt immense pity for the staff for having to endure such a boring presentation.  I also felt pity for the manager for having to give such a boring presentation.  In the manager’s voice I could hear the phony enthusiasm one must employ when disseminating supposedly “meaningful” and “important” information to subordinates.

It’s easy to differentiate “real” enthusiasm from “phony” enthusiasm.  The distinguishing characteristics are tone and facial expression.

Imagine, if you will, one of these youngsters in the meeting checking the Powerball numbers on his iPhone.  To his shock, the numbers on his ticket match the winning numbers on the Powerball website.  In an instant, this young man has become rich beyond his wildest imagination.  Realizing that he no longer needs this pitiful job, instinct takes over.  He jumps up on the meeting room table and tells the manager to take the customer service lecture and stick it where the sun don’t shine.  This is an example of “real” enthusiasm, the type of enthusiasm very seldom seen in the workplace.

Conversely, picture a young man listening to an elder manager in the adjoining cubicle tell his “Mother of all Automation” story about the time he and his coworkers stayed awake for what seemed like months straight to enter years of data, which, mind you, had previously been keep in journals, into this new thing called a computer.  “It’s the accomplishment I’m most proud of in my tenure at this bank,” he says.  At the conclusion of the story, the stone-faced young man smiles and says, “That’s really great, Sir.  If I can accomplish one-tenth of what you’ve accomplished, I’ll feel as though I’ve been successful.” This would be an example of “phony” enthusiasm, the kind we find most often in the workplace.

In the office, when one is faking enthusiasm, it’s all too obvious that they really don’t give a shit.  Having been given a position of increased responsibility, manager’s often feel obligated to show enthusiasm, even when discussing the dullest of topics.

“I really must complement John,” says the manager.  “He did a bang up job rewriting the procedure on the most efficient way to count change.  Let’s everyone give John a round of applause. Thanks, John.  You’re the man!”

(On a positive note, if John does not kill himself later that night, he may awaken with a new found determination to change his life’s course and, instead of one day becoming a manager, actually do something meaningful).

I remember sitting in a Worker’s Compensation meeting this Fall, discussing all of the ways we could create a safer workplace, when a woman offered a suggestion.

“Why don’t we send out an email reminding everyone that winter is right around the corner and that things get pretty slippery with the snow and ice, so, you know, be careful.”

“That’s a great idea,” someone else said.  “Let’s get everyone thinking about slip and fall safety before the flakes start flying.  That way they’ll be conscious of it when winter hits.”

I fell into a deep despair.  What in God’s name I had done to deserve this?  My life was supposed to have followed a much different path.  I was supposed to be meeting with interesting people – poets, philosophers, filmmakers, painters – discussing intriguing topics like Csikszentmihalyi’s notion of “flow” or Pynchon’s “Gravity’s Rainbow” or how the adaptation of my novel for the silver screen was coming along.  But no, I was sitting in a meeting discussing ways to protect people who lack common sense.  “Don’t forget, people.  Ice is slippery and if you step on it you might fall.  So walk around ice when possible, and if you have to walk on it, take extreme caution.”

Maybe that’s why the bank’s customer service lecture caught my ear.  It hit very close to homse.  In a sense, I was observing my own career, and it was depressing.

But hey, it could be worse.  At least when I walk outside, I am in one of the most beautiful places on earth.  I suppose that alone is worth enduring 1,000 customer service meetings, wouldn’t you agree?

Entry Filed under: Aspen, Business, Comedy