Sunday, June 10, 2007

Vision vs Hindsight

I was in Nottingham on Monday – for a network meeting of all the people from around the country who have ‘ended up’ doing the same job as me. The location was Sherwood Forest and we met in a quaint hut in the woods. The national director appeared to bless us with his vision for the future of the organisation. He tends to carry his glasses on the top of his head – like a little tiara.

So, the boss thought aloud for our benefit – occasionally closing his eyes for moments of intense thought. He took us on an imaginary tour of the country, sharing his ideas and cascading knowledge as he went. My colleagues smiled - some even raised their hands excitedly and asked exquisitely pertinent questions which he enjoyed answering in the most candid, sharing detail.

His swooping, visionary tour came to an end with a flourish, as he closed his eyes tightly and uttered some inspired generalisations on the impact we all have on the lives and ‘journeys’ of so many young people and how proud we should all be of ourselves. He opened his eyes and smiled at the assembled arc of his foot-soldiers. He gasped theatrically and drank in the happy reassured smiles of most of those gathered. It was as though he had been ‘channelling’ the spirit of the organisation and he was now delivered back to ordinary consciousness. His smile faded with a question from the floor.

‘What about the north?’

The national director’s ‘tour’ had stopped somewhere around Stoke.

‘Oh,’ he stuttered. ‘The North, indeed.’ He then closed his eyes once more – as though trying to summon up a rarely consulted spirit guide to the mysteries of the northern outposts of the organisation.

‘Rest assured that everything in the north is being looked at. There are various possible models on the table and you will all be consulted as the consideration process is progressed.’

The northerners didn’t bother pressing the issue. It being Monday, they were all wondering where the nearest newsagent might be – it was jobs day in The Guardian.

A taxi whisked the national director away and we all changed our clothes for the afternoon’s outdoor activities. I had signed up for ‘Go Ape’, after a cursory look at the options. I signed a disclaimer and then found myself stepping into a harness. A sinewed outdoor type tightened a few straps and we were given a pep-talk which stressed the importance of staying attached to the trees at all times. We then began an assault course in the treetops – including zip wires and tarzan jumps. I run through the woods every other day and think of myself as reasonably fit. I soon realised that apes use their upper body quite a lot more than I do. Aching though I was, my judgement was impaired by the actions of the people ahead of me. They were students (2 girls and one boy) who were taking a break between exams. I gathered this from their shrill discussion of dissertations while they danced effortlessly across precarious high wires.

We reached the highest point of the course. All the challenges on the course were graded from ‘easy’ to ‘extreme’. From the high point there was an ‘easy’ route – with a simple rope bridge. There was also an ‘extreme’ option, which involved climbing up a wooden tower to make a ‘tarzan jump’ into a rope wall. The rope wall was visible to all the other participants and passing nature trailers – it could be described as the finale of the course. The students skipped through the ‘extreme’ challenge and I found myself climbing the wooden tower to compete. A ranger was on hand and he had just talked the last student through her descent. I was fine - I’d absorbed the instructions. I strapped myself on and silenced the ranger’s urge to instruct me with a confident ‘thumbs up’. He smiled and let me carry on. I jumped.

With the benefit of hindsight I can see that someone of my height would have been instructed to lean a little from the tower before jumping. I jumped on the spot and the steel ‘vine’ stayed more or less vertical. I landed heavily on my backside on a wooden platform amid gasps from my watching colleagues. The spring-loaded winch then kicked in and viciously dragged me away. I was spun around to face the tower and realised that I was going to lead with my bruised rear when I touched down somewhere in the rope wall. This position also gave me the splendid opportunity to watch my audience – some were peeping through their hands, several had stopped on their high wires to take in the sight (one had managed to maintain her balance while using a camera), most were turning to take the ‘easy’ route.

1 comment:

  1. I have never been on one of those teambuilding courses. Thank God. But as you nurse your bruised behind I must tell you that my slightly (who am I kidding?) overweight sister in law got stuck whilst potholing deep underground on one of those courses. Build up of impatient colleagues behind...

    She's only now able to tell the story without crying...