I’ve posted about this before, but it deserves another retelling.
I was a technical writer/trainer at a technology company in the 1990s, and it was time for my annual performance review. My manager, who was an engineer by education, and who actually knew little to nothing about technical writing, said, “We’ve identified that you need more education in writing.”
Dahell? I’d come with fine credentials from companies I’d written for, I had a portfolio that impressed them at the job interview; hell, I had published many works. I’d written more books than Stephen King, only they won’t make mine into movies. What was wrong with my writing?
“Specifically, we think you might benefit from a night course in technical writing at this local community college. We’ll pay for it, of course, but you should know that your job might be in jeopardy if you don’t take it.” She had a few brochures that she presented.
I said, “Is that the course that’s taught at [College Name], Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 7 to 9 pm?”
“Yes! You’ve heard about it.”
“I sure have.” I leaned in close. “I teach it.”
I really did. I taught the course that she, and by extension, the company, wanted me to take, and she never, ever realized that I was the instructor, though my name was in the course catalogue as the instructor. Her expression in our meeting was priceless. She didn’t believe it at first, but I supplied her with my contact number and contact name at the college, and the contact confirmed that yes, I really did teach that course.
My performance review got a lot better after that, and the manager left the company soon after.
Paging @Sunspace . He was one of my students, and a co-worker at that time. I’d enjoy his comments on the performance reviews we both got from that manager, and his thoughts on my class, that our company thought I should take.