I've just finished a course about How To Lead A Team. It was run by the same guy who ran the Resilience course in Bristol - The Bank clearly has a small number of trainers on tap - and I found it thought-provoking. I went there to get my thoughts provoked. The last time I had a team working for me, at AT&T, I don't think I made a very good job of it - though I'm not sure I made any worse a job than anyone else who ran one either. The Bank is a bureaucratic swamp and its official literature is full of abstract language signifying so little that in practice managers just do what they want. Line managers are appointed without being put through training, which tells you that the organisation doesn't think all its processes and procedures matter (if it did, you'd be trained in them before you had to use them, which is kinda what professional armies do).
So after two days I'm pretty sure I can do the thing intellectually. Of course I can. It was only towards the afternoon of the second day I realised that the real question is: can I do it emotionally? When it really matters, am I going to tell someone that they need to straighten out their act thisly, or start behaving thusly, or read the damn manuals because that's what separates the men from the boys. Am I prepared to deliver, not the bad news (I've told people they have to go or are being made redundant, and I think I do it with tact and consideration) but the here's-what-you-have-to-change-about-yourself news?
Or to put it another way: is it safe for an ACoA with co-dependent and addictive streaks to be "leading" people? Setting examples and standards and generally behaving as if I have some wisdom to impart? Because that's the kind of "leader" I would need to be. I would need to figure out how I did that without feeling involved or responsible for my people, so that my codependency didn't kick in. My first thought is that I can't do it, but even just naming the problem makes it less scary.
And then there's the question of the marginal increase in bureaucracy. Could I really handle that? And could I handle not doing the technical work? Which, let's fact it, I'm doing because that's the niche I found for myself there? In other words, I wound up thinking about a lot more than just "oh god, I'd have to do 1-2-1's".
But that's the real value of these in-house courses. I don't really expect to learn any specific tricks, techniques or procedures, because they gave up treating those years ago. Far too prescriptive. The value is the time it gives you to think about what you want from work and need to change about your act.
And finding someone else thinks that The Bank has no internal corporate culture. I've been there over three years and if I still don't get the place, it means there's nothing to get. It ain't even there.
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
Monday, 12 July 2010
Singles for a Very Hot Summer
There's a theory that all human life originated on Richard Leaky's tea plantation in Kenya. Our evolutionary unconscious (or whatever) expects the weather to be hot during the day and cold at night if we're at any altitude. Cold weather is not what we're programmed for. This year I felt that somewhere in my torso, that we are supposed to be hot, not cold, and that northern European weather is not where we feel comfortable. It's another humid, hot London summer and I would not change it, especially after a winter that lasted until about mid-April.
Which brings us to Singles for a Very Hot Summer. This one for some reason I have a deep an automatic association with Trafalgar Square and the National Portrait Gallery. Get over the awful 60's hairstyles and listen to the lyrics. And for that matter, the piano chords.
The Lovin' Spoonful, 1966. Then there's Marshall Hain from 1978. They were basically a one-hit act, but we all loved this song.
I thought she was really hot - don't snigger, girls in the 70's looked different from the way they do now. They didn't all have long legs and come from a gym in Essex. In a different decade I suspect Kit Hain would have turned into Imogen Heap.
Which brings us to Singles for a Very Hot Summer. This one for some reason I have a deep an automatic association with Trafalgar Square and the National Portrait Gallery. Get over the awful 60's hairstyles and listen to the lyrics. And for that matter, the piano chords.
The Lovin' Spoonful, 1966. Then there's Marshall Hain from 1978. They were basically a one-hit act, but we all loved this song.
I thought she was really hot - don't snigger, girls in the 70's looked different from the way they do now. They didn't all have long legs and come from a gym in Essex. In a different decade I suspect Kit Hain would have turned into Imogen Heap.
Friday, 9 July 2010
On A Course In Leeds
I was born in Sheffield and I have been to Leeds once before, sometime in the early 80's. I have a vague memory that the place was pretty industrially run down. Not so now. It looks like someone re-built it on the same month in about 2002. They call this building "The Dalek"
I was staying in the City Inn Hotel, which had a fine view over Leeds Station - in fact le Tout Leeds d'affairs seems to want to be within a short distance of the station. These are two views from the thirteenth floor (yes, I know, who has a thirteenth floor?) of the hotel, the Skyline Lounge...
You see what I mean about the buildings. It must be the only town with the main hospital - the famous Leeds General Infirmary - on one edge of the entertainment district. The centre is packed with places to eat and drink, from rather tatty at the bottom of the hill, getting slightly swisher as you go up towards Millennium Square. They are all chains and theme restaurants - nothing that feels local except Kendalls Bistro, a French restaurant by the theatre which was holding a private party Tuesday night. There went the wild boar. So I went to the newly-opened Jamie's Italian for supper. It was rammed with a half-hour wait for a table. At seven o'clock. Every other restaurant was empty. But then it serves stuff like this...
A terrific antipasti mix of cheese, salami, the best mozzarella I've tasted and olives. Notice the cute way the wooden platter is standing on two tins of chopped tomatoes. The place was full of hen parties - my waitress said it was not a Tuesday Night Leeds thing. I had the lamb chops and ice creams. The espresso was good. On the way back to the hotel, I walked through this tunnel under the station...
Which you can bet was not that clean and shiny in 2000. This lead me to my hotel room...
Yep, that's an iMac serving as a TV and available as a computer, something I've always said I'd do if I was living in a flat. Peer round the curtain to the left and you have a fine view of the platforms of Leeds Station. The course? Advanced Influencing. I will discuss that later.
I was staying in the City Inn Hotel, which had a fine view over Leeds Station - in fact le Tout Leeds d'affairs seems to want to be within a short distance of the station. These are two views from the thirteenth floor (yes, I know, who has a thirteenth floor?) of the hotel, the Skyline Lounge...
You see what I mean about the buildings. It must be the only town with the main hospital - the famous Leeds General Infirmary - on one edge of the entertainment district. The centre is packed with places to eat and drink, from rather tatty at the bottom of the hill, getting slightly swisher as you go up towards Millennium Square. They are all chains and theme restaurants - nothing that feels local except Kendalls Bistro, a French restaurant by the theatre which was holding a private party Tuesday night. There went the wild boar. So I went to the newly-opened Jamie's Italian for supper. It was rammed with a half-hour wait for a table. At seven o'clock. Every other restaurant was empty. But then it serves stuff like this...
A terrific antipasti mix of cheese, salami, the best mozzarella I've tasted and olives. Notice the cute way the wooden platter is standing on two tins of chopped tomatoes. The place was full of hen parties - my waitress said it was not a Tuesday Night Leeds thing. I had the lamb chops and ice creams. The espresso was good. On the way back to the hotel, I walked through this tunnel under the station...
Which you can bet was not that clean and shiny in 2000. This lead me to my hotel room...
Yep, that's an iMac serving as a TV and available as a computer, something I've always said I'd do if I was living in a flat. Peer round the curtain to the left and you have a fine view of the platforms of Leeds Station. The course? Advanced Influencing. I will discuss that later.
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
Sometimes Being Tired Just Means You Should Go To Bed Earlier
I spent a Saturday walking around Amsterdam recently with an old university friend. We're within months of the same age and from very similar backgrounds. We tend to experience the similar things at similar times. Right now, we're experiencing one of the many things they don't tell you about Being A Man: staring at the last ten years of your working life and wondering what the heck you want to do with it, now it's clear you don't have a career left. I have a job, a paid-off mortgage, am terminally single and my pension is worth a damn. He's been a freelance technical writer and translator for a long while, has a mortgage and a wonderful partner and his pension is probably better than mine, but not so he can travel round the world on it. He's thinking in terms of living maybe twenty years after retirement, I'm thinking of checking out pretty much when I can't earn any more. Which looks like a lot of differences, but it's just economics.
People only ask themselves what they want to do when they don't know. But you can't answer that question by making lists of alternatives and evaluating them – if one of them was what you wanted to do, you wouldn't bother evaluating the others – so whatever you choose from that list is emotionally random even if it has good numbers. Knowing what you want to do is like being in love: if you have to ask, you don't and you aren't. When all those life- and career-planning books tell you to work out what you want, you're doing all the heavy lifting for them. What we really want to know is how to live when we don't have any clear signals.
And yet, this feels different from all those other moments when I asked myself what I wanted out of life. For one thing, I'm not asking that question. I'm asking why I'm not upset by the fact that there's no-one in my bed. I'm asking why I'm not going to see movies that a few months ago I would have gone to see, or why I'm just taking sandwiches back to the office instead of going out into Soho. I'm asking why I'm tired and waking up early. I'm assuming that I must be in some sort of state of shut-down to be not feeling those things. But what if this is what it feels like to be absorbed or at least occupied by your work? Not something I would know.
There is one more clue in my case. Remember the bit where I'm an ACoA with co-dependency and drink and addiction issues? We tend to sabotage ourselves. Just when we get near to doing something we want to do, that might be beneficial or move us along in the world, we distract ourselves with something else, mess up, or in some other way lose the chance. I maybe doing that. If I knew which of my projects I'm actually succeeding with. The day job? I'm not so sure there. My work? I think my latest story has potential. I'm still in the West End. I could try again to do what I abandoned last time because the budget threatened to run out of control. I should suspect self-sabotage rather than anything profound and just let whatever it is play itself out.
People only ask themselves what they want to do when they don't know. But you can't answer that question by making lists of alternatives and evaluating them – if one of them was what you wanted to do, you wouldn't bother evaluating the others – so whatever you choose from that list is emotionally random even if it has good numbers. Knowing what you want to do is like being in love: if you have to ask, you don't and you aren't. When all those life- and career-planning books tell you to work out what you want, you're doing all the heavy lifting for them. What we really want to know is how to live when we don't have any clear signals.
And yet, this feels different from all those other moments when I asked myself what I wanted out of life. For one thing, I'm not asking that question. I'm asking why I'm not upset by the fact that there's no-one in my bed. I'm asking why I'm not going to see movies that a few months ago I would have gone to see, or why I'm just taking sandwiches back to the office instead of going out into Soho. I'm asking why I'm tired and waking up early. I'm assuming that I must be in some sort of state of shut-down to be not feeling those things. But what if this is what it feels like to be absorbed or at least occupied by your work? Not something I would know.
There is one more clue in my case. Remember the bit where I'm an ACoA with co-dependency and drink and addiction issues? We tend to sabotage ourselves. Just when we get near to doing something we want to do, that might be beneficial or move us along in the world, we distract ourselves with something else, mess up, or in some other way lose the chance. I maybe doing that. If I knew which of my projects I'm actually succeeding with. The day job? I'm not so sure there. My work? I think my latest story has potential. I'm still in the West End. I could try again to do what I abandoned last time because the budget threatened to run out of control. I should suspect self-sabotage rather than anything profound and just let whatever it is play itself out.
Monday, 5 July 2010
Signs of Distraction
I'm writing this on a train to Leeds. Not the one I booked on The Bank's travel system and for which I had a seat reservation. No. That train left at 17:33 from Kings Cross. That's what the ticket said. I thought I was getting a train at 18:00. There is one. I must have chosen the 17:33 instead. So I missed it.
On Friday I lost my toiletry bag somewhere in Heathrow Airport. I had built its contents up over the years: a small badger shaving brush, a tube of almond shaving cream from Taylors of Old Bond Street, various pills, plasters and potions to cope with minor eventualities and stomach acid, toothbrush and toothpaste. I had it in an external pocket where the security people could look at it, and when I left the Cafe Nero to go to the boarding gate, there it was gone.
When I arrived in the Netherlands, my phone decided to go wandering. It wouldn't find a signal, lost my friend's details and re-booted itself when I tried to look at his records. It cured itself after being off for a while. This morning it lost my sister's details.
When I tried to leave the Netherlands on Sunday evening, KLM decided to change the plane, os instead of leaving at 20:30, we left at 21:40. When we arrived at Heathrow, they parked us at a gate somewhere near Reading. I think we may have been the last plane into T4 than evening.
I bought another train ticket and the chances are good I can expense it. I replaced the essential parts of my toiletries bag. I can re-load the contacts in my phone. I can't get the bad night's sleep back.
But it's not about losing and replacing things. It's about the state of mind I'm in but don't seem to be aware of. I'm distracted. I'm thinking about anything but where I am. It's not just what usually happens over summer, there's a little more to it than that. And when I find out, I'll tell you.
On Friday I lost my toiletry bag somewhere in Heathrow Airport. I had built its contents up over the years: a small badger shaving brush, a tube of almond shaving cream from Taylors of Old Bond Street, various pills, plasters and potions to cope with minor eventualities and stomach acid, toothbrush and toothpaste. I had it in an external pocket where the security people could look at it, and when I left the Cafe Nero to go to the boarding gate, there it was gone.
When I arrived in the Netherlands, my phone decided to go wandering. It wouldn't find a signal, lost my friend's details and re-booted itself when I tried to look at his records. It cured itself after being off for a while. This morning it lost my sister's details.
When I tried to leave the Netherlands on Sunday evening, KLM decided to change the plane, os instead of leaving at 20:30, we left at 21:40. When we arrived at Heathrow, they parked us at a gate somewhere near Reading. I think we may have been the last plane into T4 than evening.
I bought another train ticket and the chances are good I can expense it. I replaced the essential parts of my toiletries bag. I can re-load the contacts in my phone. I can't get the bad night's sleep back.
But it's not about losing and replacing things. It's about the state of mind I'm in but don't seem to be aware of. I'm distracted. I'm thinking about anything but where I am. It's not just what usually happens over summer, there's a little more to it than that. And when I find out, I'll tell you.
Friday, 2 July 2010
Proust Questionnaire
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Cool breeze, setting sun, clear sky, clifftop, sparkling sea, and a car waiting to take me somewhere interesting that evening
What is your greatest fear?
Retirement - my pension is worth a damn
What is the trait you deplore most in yourself?
Cowardice
What is the trait you deplore most in others?
Slobbish public behaviour
Which living person do you most admire?
Pass
What is your greatest extravagance?
I don't have the money for extravagances. Books and music are necessities.
What is your current state of mind?
I don't think there's a word for it. I must be in denial. Again.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
If it can be over-rated, it isn't a virtue.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
A quick wit
What is the quality you like most in a woman?
All of them
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
"The snag / problem / catch / difficulty is ...."
Who or what is the greatest love of your life?
All my loves are equal
When and where were you happiest?
I haven't been there yet
Which talent would you most like to have?
Sight-reading music
What is your most treasured possession?
My sobriety
What do you regard as the lowest depths of misery?
I've never known misery - drunken self-pity, yes, but not misery
What is your favourite occupation?
Writing, taking pictures, making music
What is your most marked characteristic?
I don't drink the Kool-Aid
What do you value most in your friends?
Being with them
Who is your favourite hero in fiction?
Any of the main male protagonists in The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress
Who are your heros in real life?
Professional soldiers. I can't do what they do and I'm damn glad they do it.
What is it you most dislike?
Being lied to
What is your greatest regret?
Not having slept with far more women
How would you like to die?
Quickly and before Social Services can sell my house under me
What is your motto?
One day at a time
Cool breeze, setting sun, clear sky, clifftop, sparkling sea, and a car waiting to take me somewhere interesting that evening
What is your greatest fear?
Retirement - my pension is worth a damn
What is the trait you deplore most in yourself?
Cowardice
What is the trait you deplore most in others?
Slobbish public behaviour
Which living person do you most admire?
Pass
What is your greatest extravagance?
I don't have the money for extravagances. Books and music are necessities.
What is your current state of mind?
I don't think there's a word for it. I must be in denial. Again.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
If it can be over-rated, it isn't a virtue.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
A quick wit
What is the quality you like most in a woman?
All of them
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
"The snag / problem / catch / difficulty is ...."
Who or what is the greatest love of your life?
All my loves are equal
When and where were you happiest?
I haven't been there yet
Which talent would you most like to have?
Sight-reading music
What is your most treasured possession?
My sobriety
What do you regard as the lowest depths of misery?
I've never known misery - drunken self-pity, yes, but not misery
What is your favourite occupation?
Writing, taking pictures, making music
What is your most marked characteristic?
I don't drink the Kool-Aid
What do you value most in your friends?
Being with them
Who is your favourite hero in fiction?
Any of the main male protagonists in The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress
Who are your heros in real life?
Professional soldiers. I can't do what they do and I'm damn glad they do it.
What is it you most dislike?
Being lied to
What is your greatest regret?
Not having slept with far more women
How would you like to die?
Quickly and before Social Services can sell my house under me
What is your motto?
One day at a time
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
The Golden Years of Number Ones
It's tempting to say that pop (rock, dance, whatever) music is at its best when you're between, when, fifteen and twenty-five? The same age girls are at their sexiest. Because it's not about the music, it's about your capacity to react to it. Well, I'm going to beg to differ here. I was still at Belmont Junior School when this period started and just started Erith Grammar School when it ended. I give you from the 5th April 1963 to the 24th September 1965 as the longest unbroken run of high-quality Number Ones in musical history. Ken Dodd ended it all, with Tears, which is why my generation hated him. After that the Number Ones were often novelty numbers (Ernie The Fastest Milkman In The West - huh?) as they were stone knock-outs (Good Vibrations). In order...
How Do You Do It - Gerry and the Pacemakers
From Me to You - The Beatles
I Like It - Gerry and the Pacemakers
Sweets for my Sweet - The Searchers
Bad To Me - Billy J Kramer and The Dakotas
She Loves You - The Beatles
Do You Love Me - Brian Poole and The Tremelos
You'll Never Walk Alone - Gerry and the Pacemakers
I Want to Hold Your Hand - The Beatles
Glad All Over - The Dave Clark Five
Needles and Pins - The Searchers
Anyone Who Had A Heart - Cilla Black
Little Children - Billy J Kramer and The Dakotas
Can't Buy Me Love - The Beatles
A World Without Love - Peter and Gordon
Don't Throw Your Love Away - The Searchers
You're My World - Cilla Black
House of the Rising Sun - The Animals
It's All Over Now - The Rolling Stones
A Hard Day's Night - The Beatles
Do Wah Diddy Diddy - Manfred Mann
Have I The Right - The Honeycombs
You Really Got Me - The Kinks
I'm Into Something Good - Herman's Hermits
Pretty Woman - Roy Orbison
(There's) Always Something There to Remind Me - Sandi Shaw
Baby Love - The Supremes
Little Red Rooster - The Rolling Stones
I Feel Fine - The Beatles
Yeah Yeah - Georgie Fame
Go Now - The Moody Blues
You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling - The Righteous Brothers
Tired of Waiting For You - The Kinks
I'll Never Find Another You - The Seekers
The Last Time - The Rolling Stones
Concrete and Clay - Unit 4+2
Ticket to Ride - The Beatles
King of The Road - Roger Miller
Where Are You Now (My Love) - Jackie Trent
Long Live Love - Sandi Shaw
I'm Alive - The Hollies
Mr Tambourine Man - The Byrds
Help - The Beatles
I Got You Babe - Sonny and Cher
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones
Make It Easy on Yourself - The Walker Brothers
and then the execrable "Tears". Okay, I missed a couple, which were at the top for a week, because I didn't want quibbles. This is about twenty-eight months of non-stop strong songs. The period when the Number One was also one of the best songs around that week. Of course, Like A Rolling Stone wasn't a Number One, but it came out in this period. The next year, 1966, saw tat mixed with Eleanor Rigby and Good Vibrations and popular music was never the same again. That period, from April 63 to September 65 was classic pop at its peak, high on youthful spirits (and maybe a couple of reds). In the next years, the music would be high on many things, but youthful exuberance was not one of them.
How Do You Do It - Gerry and the Pacemakers
From Me to You - The Beatles
I Like It - Gerry and the Pacemakers
Sweets for my Sweet - The Searchers
Bad To Me - Billy J Kramer and The Dakotas
She Loves You - The Beatles
Do You Love Me - Brian Poole and The Tremelos
You'll Never Walk Alone - Gerry and the Pacemakers
I Want to Hold Your Hand - The Beatles
Glad All Over - The Dave Clark Five
Needles and Pins - The Searchers
Anyone Who Had A Heart - Cilla Black
Little Children - Billy J Kramer and The Dakotas
Can't Buy Me Love - The Beatles
A World Without Love - Peter and Gordon
Don't Throw Your Love Away - The Searchers
You're My World - Cilla Black
House of the Rising Sun - The Animals
It's All Over Now - The Rolling Stones
A Hard Day's Night - The Beatles
Do Wah Diddy Diddy - Manfred Mann
Have I The Right - The Honeycombs
You Really Got Me - The Kinks
I'm Into Something Good - Herman's Hermits
Pretty Woman - Roy Orbison
(There's) Always Something There to Remind Me - Sandi Shaw
Baby Love - The Supremes
Little Red Rooster - The Rolling Stones
I Feel Fine - The Beatles
Yeah Yeah - Georgie Fame
Go Now - The Moody Blues
You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling - The Righteous Brothers
Tired of Waiting For You - The Kinks
I'll Never Find Another You - The Seekers
The Last Time - The Rolling Stones
Concrete and Clay - Unit 4+2
Ticket to Ride - The Beatles
King of The Road - Roger Miller
Where Are You Now (My Love) - Jackie Trent
Long Live Love - Sandi Shaw
I'm Alive - The Hollies
Mr Tambourine Man - The Byrds
Help - The Beatles
I Got You Babe - Sonny and Cher
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones
Make It Easy on Yourself - The Walker Brothers
and then the execrable "Tears". Okay, I missed a couple, which were at the top for a week, because I didn't want quibbles. This is about twenty-eight months of non-stop strong songs. The period when the Number One was also one of the best songs around that week. Of course, Like A Rolling Stone wasn't a Number One, but it came out in this period. The next year, 1966, saw tat mixed with Eleanor Rigby and Good Vibrations and popular music was never the same again. That period, from April 63 to September 65 was classic pop at its peak, high on youthful spirits (and maybe a couple of reds). In the next years, the music would be high on many things, but youthful exuberance was not one of them.
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