Now,
this is convincing:
At my workplace, the latest Customer Service Excellence campaign is unrelenting. At 8:15 we assemble for Morning Huddle, which features our supervisor's monotone reading of a Text of the Day. Oh, it's not for lack of enthusiasm that he drones; he's really quite pleased about the new routine, as his doing it makes the higher-ups very happy with him. It's just that his daily encounter with the mysteries of the printed word is a bit of a stumbling block.
Words of more than one syllable are a challenge, as is context. One word he can never manage is
comprise; any sentence containing it will be read as, "Our institution
compromises many units."
No one else ever notices.
The daily sermon ends with a Quote of the Day, drawn from the endless supply of clichés recycled by every brand of consultant who has created some niche for himself. One morning it was words of wisdom about "listening," as formulated by "a pioneer in the field of Listening." Even the credulous bunch I work with raised eyebrows at
that particular job description.
Sometimes the consultant consulted by the compiler of this dreck is the oracle of
Brainy Quote. That's when when we hear from writers of stuff other than management buzzwords. Those mornings, the boss mumbles something along the lines of:
here are some words, "by Hen-ry Da-vid ... Tho-...ro-oh...?"
Now, if this were a Japanese organization, we could sing a song and do jumping jacks, thus exercising at least a couple parts of the body.
But my only exercise is of the eyelids I struggle to keep open—what with the drivel being droned, and this being first thing in the morning.
The Theme of the Week is reiterated daily, then followed by a Question for Discussion. Before the silence becomes too painful, one or two of the most prominent suck-ups will volunteer an example of how
they do things
just as the printed text says.
When the Question was, "What could be improved in your area?" the meanest (read: most powerful) of the group said, "
Cleanliness: garbage cans are
not being emptied!"
Even if it hadn't been said in a voice full of contempt for the cleaning staff, this was one of those times when I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying: "But, Maintenance is
Lean!"
(Along with Customer Service Excellence, Lean is the other ongoing management fad—one which took only about twenty years to reach this institution.)
A day or two after that housecleaning complaint, the rest rooms and lunch room on our floor were completely out of paper products; sometime later, I saw the maintenance supervisor being shown around.
Stopping next morning at the coffeemaker, I was dazzled by the gleaming lunch room floor (it was very visible, as the chairs were inverted on tables, post-mopping). Then—just my timing luck—department chairman Dr. G. Zuss appeared. Though he normally avoids interaction with non-faculty, this time he took in the scene, beamed at me, and said that
this was
more like it.
As I strained to think of a reply, the department administrator materialized. The relieved Dr. G. Zuss pivoted from me to his peer, and began kvetching that he used to see the same cleaner every day and service was so much better then. The administrator (to his credit) said, "It's not really
the people who are the problem: it's
the level of service they've been told to provide."
[
Lean!]
Dr G. Zuss frowned, "Still,
you'd expect them to have better Q.A. in place!"
Ah yes:
Lean and
Customer Service Excellence could never be mutually exclusive goals.
The daily Excellence text is institution-wide material, issued in weekly units, and written by some unknown consultant/s undoubtedly paid well for the random mishmash of slogans. Last week's theme was "
Live Your Card," referring to a laminated Ten Commandments of Customer Service. Though it may have been
twelve commandments, or some other magic number. I wouldn't know: instead of wearing it next to a heart beating joyously to the tune of Customer Service Excellence, I tossed this fucking moronic item upon receipt (a year or two ago, during a previous cycle of management enthusiasm).
Living the customer service dream, that's me.
Or, in Clever Sister's words: "Is this
a cult? Did they
ask you to sign up for this?"
It's one thing, having to race through the work of three people, while making more errors than when I was handling the work of only two [
Lean!] But I have a much harder time swallowing the daily insult to intelligence.
My job is not customer service, but that's beside the point. This material is written for employees of the institution's hospital, where "customer service" is continually being made worse by outsourcing, Lean, and every other management decision. The daily brainwashing is to make hospital workers smile-smile-smile at "consumers." This, presumably, will create a
branding experience so dazzling as to distract from the crappy quality of medical care. In my own non-hospital position, this kind of stuff is simply to enforce the expectation of ever higher levels of employee sucking up, in the face of ever more work overload.
But that's where we are, those of us meant to consider ourselves lucky to still have jobs. And if the
boss tells you who to vote for, well, the boss knows best.
