::twitches on hearing the phrase “Seven Highly Effective Habits”::
So I’m sitting there with my department at a company-wide motivational speaker/ customer service techniques speech. On Saturday. Our department was considered a bit aloof because we dealt with billions of dollars in trades, and the rest of the company dealt with grannies $50,000 IRA (important to her, but still). So we’re sitting in the back trying not to laugh out loud, keeping occupied with passing notes like 6th graders. The speaker then hands out little bells " 
to ring when you hear a :)GOOD:) idea! :)"
We were stunned. After awhile we were asked why we weren’t participating and I, being the one who was about to leave the company to move to another country, decided to be honest.
“Well, we don’t deal with clients directly, we just trade. The people that we deal with are reps for funds, and when we talk with them we have to follow a set script: What fund, fund ID, shares, amount, date of wire transfer, etc. Pretty simple. In fact, if we tried to use some of your “positive attitude” techniques, we would run the chance of screwing up a trade, and that would cost us bucks. And lastly, we’re not using the bells because every time one rings, we start drooling, and it’s starting to get messy back here.”
Now, most everyone in my department were college educated, so they started to laugh hysterically at the Pavlov remark, but every one else in the room just stared at me with these confused looks on their faces. I don’t even think the speaker got the joke.
Needless to say we all agreed never to mention that day again, or to go to another class like that.
-Tcat
…everyone were college educated. Good one Thomas…
[sub]<gasp>…can’t…breathe…laughing…too…hard…[/sub]
I spent a depressing amount of my life unemployed on the North-East of England, and every once in a while I would get hauled in by the DSS for some noddy little “job skills” course, which would include a “motivational” component. (As if writing a concise CV and feeling positive levels of self-esteem is going to solve all of Tyneside’s economic woes…)
One of the regular exercises is all about setting goals and making plans to reach them. It tends to be run on the same you-jobless-losers-are-complete-morons level as the rest of the course… so, after doing things like “Brewing a cup of tea” and “Making cheese on toast”, I for one got thoroughly fed up. So, next time we were split up into little groups to set goals and make plans, I persuaded my group to think just a little bit bigger…
And, when our time came, we presented our ten-step plan for “Invading Poland”.
The look on the course leader’s face was priceless.
Ho ho.
Why am I reminded of The League of Gentlemen?
pan
To be fair, very few of the DSS’s course leaders are as bad as Pauline.
[sub]And one, I remember, was this very fit young woman with truly oustanding, ummm, natural attributes. Did our motivation no end of good…[/sub]
Oooh, we had the sucky rock band in high school too! They were called Freedom Jam. They sang songs about American History, engaged in Good Natured Ribbing[sub]TM[/sub] of our principal, and reminded us all that drugs are bad, m’kay?
We also got some guy who had been horribly maimed by fire in Vietnam. He did a free presentation for the kids (well, free to us, I bet the high school paid for it) and another version that night with admission charged for anybody who wanted to come. He used a piano for part of his act, and his big moments were playing “Danny Boy” and whacking keys with his fake, removable ear (a result of his injuries) and saying “Ha! I can play by ear!”
He was actually pretty inspiring; to know that somebody could overcome the massive injuries he sustained and escape bitterness and anger was definitely something to think about. But I have no idea why it was a mandatory assembly.
My high school had an anti-drug speaker every year. Two of them were really bad, and two were actually good. I’ll relate them in decreasing order of suck.
My junior year they brought in some Olympic wrestler. He had a gold medal, so he was obviously a good wrestler. Unfortunately, his skill in wrestling did not translate into skill in speaking. His entire speech was consisted of repeating “You have to have goals in life!” and “Drugs are bad!” Needless to say, we were unmotivated.
My sophomore year they had a couple representatives from MADD or somesuch group relate the horrors they’d experienced as a result of drunk driving. I certainly don’t mean to belittle these people’s views or hardships, but they weren’t good speakers either.
My senior year we had some guy who was in jail for drunk driving and vehicular homicide. This guy may have rambled a bit, but his anger and tone did put a bit more motivation into his speech. His strongest argument was “You don’t want to end up like me.”
My freshman year was probably the best speaker I’ve ever been subjected to. I don’t know exactly how to describe him–he was involved in the drug trade, talked briefly about attempting to overthrow several Asian governments, and wouldn’t tell us whether he had ever killed anyone. Maybe it was just that I was young, or maybe it was because I wasn’t sure whether he would have qualms about killing me, but I listened to what he had to say.
I think I have you all beat.
I worked for a Catholic academy for young women for 3 years. Then I worked for the federal government for 12 years.
At the school, even though I was staff, I was required to attend all faculty meetings and retreats. These always, ALWAYS featured a speaker who would 1) Tell you all about her life and hardships and how she rose above them, and 2) Get everyone in the audience to hug and “share a story” about our own lives. Ew. Ew. Ew.
Shortly after starting my federal job, which was for a Navy training command, the Navy decided it was time to jump headfirst into teaching everyone the Deming model of “process improvement.” We were tasked with forming a department within our command, consisting of about 4 (well paid) people, who would first receive training from some expensive consultants. From there, they would sally forth to (brain)wash the masses. The fact that the military is a hierarchical organization, which doesn’t fit into the Deming business model at all, was apparently beside the point. And of course, in order to drum up as many “customers” as possible for the set of 4 courses that was taught, all of us who worked at the training command were required to take them, regardless of whether they applied to our jobs or not. So we spent a total of about 9 long, miserable days sitting in classrooms listening to this BS. And they didn’t even give us lunch :(.
And that wasn’t all. As soon as the Deming fad faded, there were other bandwagons to jump on, like the Steven Covey crap, for which they pay premium prices. This little department changed their name a total of FOUR TIMES while I was there, to conform to whatever crap-o-the-month they were spewing. I became very adept at avoiding being scheduled in to these classes.
I now work for a university, and have been nervously waiting to see what flavor of swill will be offered here. So far, we have been pretty much BS-free, though the new students coming in next week will be subjected to a required ropes course. I think that would be enough to make me drop out before I started. At least they won’t have to hug each other on purpose.
Sit down. I have you all whipped. I promise this is worth reading through
This one occurred during a 3-day arts festival at the local bohemian prep school. I was livin’ hippie to the fullest, carrying burning inscence with me, wearing a headband, sitting in circles eating vegan food and listening to people play sitars, etc. It was a blast, and certainly the best school sponsored event I’ve ever been to (at the end of the first night they had a “dance” where people were moshing and crowd surfing! How bitchin’ is that??)
Anyway, on the second day, there was some guy standing by the main stage with a microphone, asking people to come over and sit down. I figured he had something to say or do that involved art. My mistake. My pal and I sit over there and soon realize we are trapped in the throes of motivational speaking. BAD motivational speaking. What follows is the most bizarre and entertaining logic ever.
He started off relating the story of how when he was a kid his sister was always bigger than him, so she could beat him up, and did. (Yay, real motivational)
He then said “Your brain is small, like a grapefruit, but your body is large”, and explained to us how this meant that our brain did not have control over what we were doing. Riiiight.
He offered us the solution to this, and the secret way to always do well in school. Breathing. He demonstrated and we all breathed really deep until we got lightheaded. That’s how you know it’s working. The extra oxygen in your brain gives it the power to defeat your body and take control. Here’s his proof: “When you’ve been sleeping, you wake up and you can’t think straight. That’s 'cause you’ve been breathing wrong and all the oxygen has leaked to one side of your brain!” At this my friend and I couldn’t take it any more and laughed until we were crying. He never did explain why there had to be war between your body and brain…
Oh another quote: “I only had a 2.3 gpa in college, but don’t worry, I’ve figured EVERYTHING out.”
Lucky Charms
I don’t want to say it. I have repressed the memory for seventeen years. It was one of the most traumatic things to occur in a very tramatic time for me…
Up With People
It was this group of ethnicly mixed yet somehow all whitebread happy young people singing and telling us how wonderfull it was to be alive.
And sady, no one brought guns.
shudders and walks away, talking to himself
I have people who were mind cleansed by a motivational speaker. They now walk around saying “super fantastic” as per his instructions.
“Hey! No paychecks this week” “Super fantastic, Sir!”
I dunno; I rather enjoy them. It’s nice to bump into somebody positive for a change.
<shrugging shoulders>
But don’t see the same one twice if you don’t want to hear an identical-in-all-particulars-even-if-years-apart presentation.
Cool! We had both of these groups visit our high school! I haven’t thought about either of these events for nigh upon fifteen to twenty years.
As an antidote, we had a troupe of motivational acrobats visit our grade school when I was eight or so. I don’t really remember much, other than a little skit where the lead acrobat asks, “How would I get around if I broke a leg?” [hobbles on crutches] “What if I broke two legs?” [Does a handstand on the crutches and walks around, upside-down, using the crutches as if they were stilts] “What if I broke both legs and an arm?” [Discards one crutch, does a one-arm handstand on the other, and hops around the gym and up a set of stairs while upside-down]
I have no idea what the point of that was, but the fact that I remember it means it was pretty cool.
“Smashers of Shit for Jesus”—another great band name!
I remember back when est was popular, my mother asked me what they did in those sessions (no, I never attended one!). I told her, “They yell at you and make you feel guilty and don’t let you go to the bathroom.” My mother said, “But that’s what they do to me at work!”
How about when the ‘motivational speaker’ controls your food intake for the day?
The scene: School district - 750 teachers and support staff (kids got a day off from school)
Breakfast:
Granola bars (stale)
Yogurt.
Plain bagels with oleo spread.
Herbal tea - non-caffinated.
Orange juice (more of an orange drink)
No coffee.
I repeat: no coffee.
At all.
(“Coffee is bad for you!” chirped the M.S. “I want you to pay attention! That’s why we have juice!”
This is not the way to start the day for people who, for most of their teaching careers, have had three coffee pots a-brewing in thge teacher’s lounge, and for the real addicts, have a coffee pot in the classroom.
Mind you, all other teacher seminars and workshops have always had juice and bagels, but also had doughnuts and COFFEE!!! And REAL TEA!!!
<S/FX - low-toned grumbles and general dissent>
Three hours of “How YOU can make a difference in your classroom” from someone who admittedly dropped out of high school, but went to college and got a degree in psychology, but never stepped foot in a classroom. Examples included:
[li] Students can bring their own pillows, since most of the chairs were hard and non-ergonomic[/li][li] ‘Ambient sounds’ playing during the lectures. [Tried this - all we ended up doing was writing more hall passes so kids could go to the bathrooms - those surf and waterfall and rain tapes tend to jar the subconscious a bit.][/li][li] Encourage students to find answers to questions they haven’t asked yet. A nice idea, but by this point, most were looking forward to lunch.[/li]
Ah, lunch. I knew I’d get to it.
Salads - vegetables only (no chicken, ham or turkey).
Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Milk.
I kid you not. PBJs for teachers.
By this time, people were livid, the cafeteria staff was apologizing (couldn’t fault them, they had their orders), people were sneaking out to McDonalds, and we ended up looking at our watches all afternoon, and loudly questioning everything this dimwit said.
He ended up letting us out an hour early, probably sensing that the more he spoke, the more likely he was to get lynched.
Worst M.S. we ever had. Never had him again. Matter of fact, all other seminars in the district were divided into more managable groups. Less likely of a riot.
And we always had plenty of coffee.
Urg. How about anti-drug motivational speakers?
Lets see…ok, try to beat Louis Gosset Jr: “MOUNTAIN, GET OUT OF MY WAY!” That was such a joy in middle school.
Or better yet, in high school, Jesse Jackson: “UP WITH HOPE! DOWN WITH DOPE!”…that was chanted over and over and over…
Those two experiences put all others to shame for me. No speaker since has compared, and I’ve worked for huge companies like Motorola, IBM, and Dell. I’ve practiced sleeping with my eyes open during so-called “motivational” speeches more times than I want to remember.
Here is Dave Barry’s adventure at a Motivational Seminar. A rather funny read.
Perhaps the point was something along the lines of : Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. 