Command and Control

Photo by Oladimeji Ajegbile from Pexels

I've just been to the pharmacy to collect my heart drugs. I wore a face mask in the shop for the first time since Covid19 struck. On my walk home, I was pondering why.

It's not to protect me, it's to protect others from me (in case I've got it and don't know it). 

Having exercised pretty strict social and physical distancing from everyone except Mandy, including our grown-up children, I'm fairly sure that I'm not infectious. But I felt the need to reassure the hard-working - and similarly masked - pharmacy staff, that I was being careful on their behalf; that it mattered to me.

Because it does. In the face of what I see as an unseemly and ill-judged race to lift restrictions, I am genuinely concerned that we will soon experience a second wave of the pandemic in the UK.

And I am fearful (that word again) that many others think that it's worth taking the risk of that possibility, to regain some semblance of 'normal' life and freedom of movement and association. To take back control. 

Sound familiar? I'm not judging (well, I'm trying not to).

In the early days of Lockdown, the Government instruction was unambiguous: Stay Home - Protect the NHS - Save Lives. Who wouldn't want to get behind that? It mattered to everyone. So the instruction was pretty universally followed. And the numbers started to go down.

Now it's all gone a bit wooly, a bit less directive, a bit more discretionary. It's introduced an optional element into how we can behave. And we're seeing people respond according to what matters more to them now than it did initially - social interaction, being physically closer, shopping. Their own needs have superseded their willingness to recognise the continuing greater risks of taking the brakes off.

So I'm sticking with it. I'm continuing to maintain 2 metres distancing, to cross the road when someone comes towards me, to use click and collect for the weekly shop rather than go into the store, to wear a facemask if and when I absolutely have to be in a 'confined' environment, to sanitise and/or wash my hands, to work from home.

In my small way, I'm trying to keep you safe from me, just in case.

Footnote: There's a training analogy that could be made here about one of the reasons why people do or don't buy into different kinds of learning - whether it matters to them, whether there's a benefit for them or for others. Compliance training springs to mind. But that feels a bit contrived, so I won't go there. You could probably write that bit yourself anyway.

Why Tweetchat?

Friday's @LndConnect-hosted #LDInsight Tweetchat on Twitter was framed around the question "What’s the toughest thing about being in L&D?"

Does that first sentence mean anything to you? Or am I talking goobledygook?

Do you use Twitter? Do you know what a Tweetchat is? Do you know what I'm talking about when I refer to @LnDconnect or what these funny @ and # symbols actually mean?

For some people it will indeed be gobbledygook; they are not interested in, and do not use, Twitter, and they will move on without concern. Others may well be aware of Twitter, but may use it in it's more 'social media' sense, connecting informally around people and topics of general interest. Others may use Twitter in a professional capacity, to listen to and learn from other people in their field. And others will use Twitter as an extended Personal Learning Network, with whom they actively engage, discuss, share and learn from.

In each of the above cases, the numbers involved get correspondingly smaller with each group, until finally, we arrive at the participants in the regular (every Friday morning) @LndConnect-hosted #LDInsight Tweetchat. It's a loosely moderated conversation on Learning and Organisational Development topics, which is grouped by the use of the #LDinsight hashtag into a stream which keeps the interactions, comments, questions etc nicely gathered together for ease of discursive flow. 

But there aren't that many people who regularly join in. A recurring theme recently has been about bringing more views and opinions into these conversations, both from within the L&D/OD community itself and from outside - the 'customer voice', if you will. Two conversational streams emerged today - one challenging why non-L&D/OD people would be interested in the first place, and the other about why more L&D/OD people don't show up in this chat, never mind why 'outsiders' don't.

In my experience, some L&Drs find the very idea of a Tweetchat intimidating and/or they lacked confidence of 'public speaking' in an internet-wide forum, whilst others feel that they have nothing to say or contribute to the discussion. We did a quick self-examination of the timeline to check for jargon, of which, reassuringly, there was little (although some later tweets today have cautioned that one profession's jargon may mean something completely different in someone else's!).

But if the future of learning is digital, collective and social, as we are so often told, and are trying to move ourselves towards, why are so many in the profession so reluctant to show up in such an informal and rewarding space? Is it down to timing of the chat? (clashes with the commute); is it fear of saying the 'wrong' thing? (what exactly is the 'right' thing anyway?); is it unfamiliarity with the medium/channel (bet they use facebook in their private life); is it corporate policy? (thou shalt not use social media); is it concern about being seen and engaged with by peers and customers? (can't afford to be seen not to have all the answers, gotta preserve the mystique); is it reluctance to change thinking and practice? Or are Tweetchats just seen as self-congratulatory/self-sympathising chatter for the self-elected 'elite' in the profession?

Those same questions could be asked about why non-L&D/OD people don't join in L&D Tweetchats. And, as importantly, why we don't involve ourselves in other discipline/professions' tweetchats; questions about perceived relevance, value and availability perhaps? What do you think?

I'd suggest that the very fact we felt able to think about how we could engage a wider church, in the chat itself, speaks volumes.  I'd encourage everyone to dip their toes in the water. If you're in L&D/OD, try out #DLinsight (https://twitter.com/search?q=%23ldinsight) every Friday morning between 08:00-09:00UK, #Chat2Lrn (https://twitter.com/chat2lrn?lang=en-gb) or #lrnchat (https://twitter.com/lrnchat?lang=en-gb), or search the Internet for other unrelated, but relevant to you, topics of interest Tweetchats. There's rich learning to be had in all these spaces, folks.

And if I can help you find your way through the social media clutter, don't hesitate to get in touch.

Responsible & Accountable

This morning's #LDinsight tweetchat on Twitter posed the question "How do you respond when things go wrong?". Having earlier woken up to the news that the Great British Public (well, 72% of those who could) had decided by majority vote that the UK should leave the European Union, this struck me as a clever question which got me thinking. For me, the result of the referendum felt like it had 'all gone wrong'.

 

This was my response.. Shortly thereafter, my more considered reflection, aided by discussing 'how I am today' with my counsellor, and in drawing parallels with my heart bypass surgery last year, has led me to the conclusion that I need to take more and better responsibility for things like this. In my recovery period from surgery, I reflected on how I had to fess up to being responsible for my heart condition, how decisions and actions I had taken - or not taken - had led to arteriosclerosis and angina. I concluded that I couldn't undo any of that, that my intentions had been for the best, but that, with a little more attention and listening to my body, I might have avoided my condition. Now, however, after a significant "Oy! You!" kick up the pants, I was going to - and hopefully am - living more mindfully and carefully, paying attention to these things.

When my counsellor asked me how I was this morning, I told him I was sad, depressed, angry and a little scared about how the Euro vote had gone. In no particular order, I felt angry that 28% of those who could have voted and expressed an opinion had failed to do so (people died to give us the right to vote - that's why we have a democracy!), I was sad that the tone of discussion had been so polarised, negative and frankly xenophobic, depressed that as a nation we were now about to disassociate ourselves from a wider, more inclusive community and, finally, scared of the political, social and economic chaos and volatility which will follow.

But this led me to realise that, in the same way that I have had to 'own up' to my heart problems and surgery, I have to assume some responsibility for the outcome of the Euro Referendum.

Yes, I exercised my democratic right to vote, I put my cross in the box. But I had also taken a pretty hands-off approach during the run up to the vote. I had deliberately avoided conversations and discussion with others, I had kept my opinions and views to myself (I am, by nature non-confrontational); I had also pretty much assumed that my idea of common sense and fairness would be the prevailing and ultimately winning decision.

It was not enough - and I have to hold myself accountable, question what I could have done differently, what I have learned as a result and - critically - what I am going to do about it now.

It's clear to me that I cannot go off and sulk in the corner while others pick up the pieces and reassemble our culture, politics and international relations. I need to take more responsibility for what happens now and help to shape the future that we are going to be leaving our children. I don't have a plan for how I'm going to do that yet; it's early days in the political, economic and social maelstrom in which we now find ourselves.

Of this I'm sure. I won't be passive. I'm listening. And I will find a better way, or ways, to 'show up', to influence and to support all communities in our increasingly uncertain global future.

Who goes there... Friend or Colleague?

I spent a very pleasant 15 minutes chatting to a colleague on the telephone this morning, entirely about business, but both sharing our feelings about some of the challenges we share and some of those that we are dealing with within our own 'specialist' functions. We concluded our conversation saying how much we were looking forward to spending some 'social' and business time together next week.

Having had a rotten commute into work (train broke down, delayed my arrival by an hour), and not being especially enthused by my task list for the day, I came off the 'phone smiling and energised to get on with my day. And that got me thinking. What was it about that conversation that 'gee'd' me up for the day? Why did that feel so unusual? And I concluded that it was because I viewed that individual as more than just a colleague, but as a friend. And then I started wondering what it is that turns a colleague into a friend, followed immediately by questioning how many 'friends' I actually have at work. 

Time is an element of course. We have worked together for several years now. But it's more than that. We recognise in each other a 'kindred spirit', an emotional exchange (intelligence?) that allows us to share our thoughts and feelings about our work, without fear that we will be judged or rated on what is said. We also have a deep respect for, and rely on, each other's knowledge and professionalism. 

Hence this tweet which I was then inspired to post and which got a lot of 'faves' and retweets...

Another tweeter, Ade Adtukasi (@ohcsolutions), commented "Maybe we need to rethink the traditional definition of work-life balance", whilst Michael Osborne (@MikeOzzy) reported "...I have a combination of both. :)" - the smiley face being a big clue here, I think. 

 

Believe me when I say I'm not looking for new friends here; I've got plenty, thanks. But, having friends at work, people that you can collaborate with, offer help to and ask for help from, seek counsel from and - critically, in my view - have a laugh with, should be cherished.

Now, in no way do I mean to 'diss' any of my other colleagues, with whom I have many very amiable and productive relationships, just as I have in the outside world; social media being one (several?) of them). But on how many fingers of how many hands can I count these people as my friends?

And if you were to do the same, what sort of numbers would you come up with? What value would you place on them? And does it matter?

Er... I'm speaking!

It's just over two weeks to go until Clive Shepherd and I deliver our session at the World of Learning Conference in Birmingham on the 27th of September.  We're discussing Integrating the formal, informal and social in learning, using Clive's book, "The New Learning Architect" as the yardstick against which I'll be sharing our experiences at FirstGroup, and then inviting thoughts, comments and questions from the audience.

It's been a few years since I last spoke at a large learning conference and a lot has changed in those years.  The focus has changed, the terminology has changed, the tools have changed and the discussion has changed. Just in the last week or so, the Institute of IT Training, of which I have been a member (and long-time Fellow) since its inception, has changed its focus and name to that of the Learning and Performance Institute.  And I've had a role/name change too!  When I was invited to speak at WOLCE and all the marketing materials went to press, I was the Group IT Training Manager.  I will stand up in front of the audience in our session and introduce myself as the Head of HR & Learning Technologies!  That's how quickly the learning agenda is changing.

As I write this blog, I am in the process of finalising the content and format of my short presentation for the session, the draft of which I have to hand over to the organisers on Monday. And here's where all those changes have come home to roost! In the last five years we have seen an explosion in the availability and use of Social Media site, tools and devices such as Prezi, Twitter, Facebook, Wordle, Smartphones, iPads, QR codes and the like.  Back then, I thought I was racy using MindManager 6 to capture feedback in a seminar session, and I'd never, ever, considered writing a 'blog', whatever that was...

Recently I've been to less conferences in person than I have virtually via the Twitter backchannel and I fully expect a high proportion of the audience who will be attending my WOLCE session to be the same.  But not all.

So, even 'tho I'm going to be talking about some SoMe tools at the Conference, I'm going back to basics and concentrating instead on the story - our challenges, our successes, our high and lows - and where we still want to go. I'm stepping back from worrying about which whizzy social media and presentation tools to use; indeed, as I write, it's entirely likely that the finished product will be on PowerPoint 2003, using our corporate slide template! (It will however, be 'graphic-heavy and text light'.) We will probably use Twitter to bring in the outside learning community involvement and we might even use the audience polling system.

What I do know is that I have a professional and organisational story to share, which is not yet finished.  I hope that the participants on the day - and afterwards - will empathise with my story, will learn something from it in and will want to contribute to it.  I don't have all the answers, and I want to learn from the collective wisdom in the room and in the wider L&D community, just like everyone else.

So what do you think? Am I taking the right approach? Are you put off by the thought of PowerPoint and corporate templates? Any hints and tips for me?  Any burning questions that you'd like Clive and I to deal with on the day?  All comments and questions welcome. See you in Birmingham.