Offsites

As I was walking into the supermarket the other day, I passed three women on their way out.  They were professionally dressed, carrying what I imagined was their lunch (salads to go I guessed), on their way back to work. 

This is an approximation of what I overheard:

Woman #1:  Oh wow, that was just the best training I think I’ve ever had (gushing more than the geyser at Yellowstone).

Woman #2:  It really, really was! I came away with so much more understanding (equally gushing so as not to be outdone.)

Woman #3:  Really? Oh, that is so good to hear! I am so glad.  I had hoped it would exceed everyone’s expectations. (Spoken in her ‘humble manager who really believes in her people and supports them in the best way possible’ voice).

And that’s when it happened.  The chill that ran down my spine.  It wasn’t from the sub-arctic temperature of the grocery store (summer time + grocery store = bring your parka).

No, it wasn’t that.  In a sudden flash of PTSD (is there any other kind?), my two years of retirement vanished and I was back in the corporate trenches.  One of the worst corporate mine fields? The Offsite Training. Onsite Training runs a close second.

This is where you have to program yourself to pretend like you are really into it.  Whatever they are dishing out, be it How to be a Team Player, Situational Leadership, or Conflict Resolution, you have to gird yourself to not only take it, but take it with a smile.  Anything less? Well, that’s just not good teamwork.  Where’s your spirit?  What do you mean you are not into role playing? How else will you assimilate this very critical knowledge you and we all need to help our team and our company be our most successful selves?

In a career that spanned about 37 years, I had more than my share of off and on-site trainings.  IKEA, where I spent 22 of those years, being a progressive, socially-conscious, Swedish company REALLY believed in trainings.

One of my first experiences with an IKEA training involved them flying in a woman from Sweden to lead what was basically a therapy session.  The woman was the female version of Ernest Hemingway, without the beard.  She looked like she could drop a moose with one hand tied behind her back.  She was clearly descended from Vikings.  Tall, big, solid, she told us to sit in our chairs straight with our feet firmly on the floor, hands on our thighs.  No crossing the legs or ankles. 

We were all afraid of her and did what we were told.  Only one of my coworkers had the nerve to stand up to her when at one point in the session we were supposed to be revealing some deep dark secret about ourselves.  She declared she wasn’t comfortable with it and said she would not participate.  The trainer, not missing a beat, said, “Hmm, interesting. And why do you think you are uncomfortable about it? Tell me more.” We were just fishes on hooks flailing about as she reeled us in.

Most of these trainings usually start with ice-breakers.  Ugh.  You know, something like, if you were an animal, which one would you be? (a bird). Tell us something about yourself that no one knows (my cousin is Michael Sembello who wrote and sang “Maniac” from Flashdance and was lead guitar for Stevie Wonder) .  What’s your favorite movie or book and why?  (To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, it taught me about the evils of racism).

No one ever wants to go first.  But some people, looking for some extra brownie points and wanting to show they are really into it all, will “volunteer” to go first, proving how fearless they are and are clearly ready for that promotion.  Most of us, once the ice-breaker is revealed, frantically start combing through our brains trying to figure out what to say and what would be the best response.  Our brains in overdrive, thumbing through possibility after possibility, discarding this one, too personal, that one, too serious, until finally alighting on the perfect response, not too personal, not too serious, but just enough revealing to demonstrate what interesting people we are.

One year, we had an offsite training camping in the Jim Thorpe area.  Our managers kept the destination a secret.  They were already up there getting it all ready.  We arrived by the bus-load (we were about 50 or so people).  As we got off the bus, they handed us all the gear we would need.  Sleeping bag (a Swiss Army one, they did not scrimp), flashlight, thermos, mess kit, bug spray, etc.  We were four people per tiny cabin. 

In addition to the training stuff, this offsite, included some “fun” activities.  I put fun in quotation marks, because even though ordinarily it would be a fun activity, is it really though if you are “forced” into the situation of having to participate with your coworkers, who though you really like them, you’d much rather be home with your husband and kids?

The ”fun” activity was white-water rafting on the Lehigh River.  We were outfitted with wet-suits, my first time wearing one.  I thought wet-suits functioned to keep you dry.  Apparently not.  Those, I found out, are called dry-suits.  Wet-suits, like the name suggests, get you wet.  The function is to keep your body temp warm. 

Not knowing this previously, I suddenly knew I was in trouble.  I had my period. I was wearing a pad as I did not have any tampons. I was also wearing bike shorts and a t-shirt.  That were going to get wet.  Ugh.  And oh? The smell of those wet suits? Not pleasant.  And having to ride back on the bus after the rafting in a very, stinky wet-suit?  Also, not pleasant.

After the rafting, and the ride back to return the wet suits, we got on the bus back to our camp site.  I was soaking wet.  My pad was soaking wet.  At that point though, I was merely very uncomfortable.  I was not yet, additionally, very embarrassed.

We disembarked the bus and started walking to our campsite.  I was at the front of the whole group of people.  That’s when one of my coworkers came up behind me, put her arm around my shoulders, and whispered, “you are leaking”.  She did not mean water.  O. M. G. Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling.  Fortunately, I had a windbreaker and was able to tie it around my waist for the remainder of the walk back.  But, the damage was done.  I wanted to crawl under any of the many rocks that were there, but more “fun” and training awaited. 

If I thought I had it bad, there were some who had it worse.  There were a few women who were pregnant so they opted to go for the hike vs the rafting.  It was supposed to be an easy, 1 or 2 hour hike.  The hike was hard, perilous, and not meant for pregnant people.  They were gone about 5 hours and we were close to calling in the rangers for them.  Fortunately, none of them went into premature labor from the strenuousness of it all.

Back in the grocery store, the three women made their exit, and I made my way to the produce section, brushing off the PTSD from years of team-buildings and trainings.

And when people ask me if miss working, I reply with a smile, “Not really.”