So gosh-darn sensitive

CHUMCity has been holding workplace sensitivity seminars to train its employees to be sensitive to their fellow employees’ sensitivity, and last week it was my turn to be politely invited to attend the mandatory training session. You know the kind of thing, or at least I figured that I did before I went in: the employees would be addressed by earnest, humourless HR representatives who would solemnly inform a group of average-age-over-30-somethings, probably using flashcards, that being Unkind to One’s Fellow Employees on the basis of Colour, Sex or Creed is a Wrong Thing that Must Not Be Done. Everyone would nod politely, check their watches surreptitiously every five minutes or so, sign the attendance sheet and go back to get some real work done.

But of course that’s unfair and prejudicial, and holding some kind of seminar on the subject every so often is sadly necessary. It’s tragically true that there are such things as discrimination, harassment, the mob mentality and the poisoned work environment, and that it’s easy for people to dress up hatred and abuse in the flimsy guise of cruel humour. If my soul hadn’t been crushed out of me by six years’ work in customer service then I might still wake up screaming from nightmares about living through Grade Eight. So I tried to walk into the seminar with an open mind. The ends of education are worthwhile; let us see if the means live up to the noble goals of the project.

That lasted until the HR representatives turned on the PowerPoint presentation, introduced themselves as “co-facilitators,” and apologised earnestly and sincerely for the fact that they were going to have to show us offensive material in order to discuss it but assured us they were earnestly and sincerely sorry for the fact that the material that they were going to have to show us in order to discuss it was offensive. I have an English degree, I didn’t say out loud. Don’t call yourselves co-facilitators. You made my ears hurt.

Over the next ninety minutes, the earnest, humourless HR representatives solemnly informed a group of average-age-over-30-somethings, using PowerPoint, that being Unkind to One’s Fellow Employees on the basis of Colour, Sex or Creed is a Wrong Thing that Must Not Be Done. People nodded politely and, every five minutes or so, they surreptitiously checked their watches.

There was one good part of the presentation — one excellent part, in fact — and that was the case study. One of the HR representatives read us excerpts from the public record of the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal’s hearings about Jean Barbe of the CBC and his treatment of Mireille des Rosiers. It’s all utterly appalling, and to our co-facilitator’s credit, he didn’t try to punch it up in any way. He simply leafed through the hard-copy and read us the dry, cold, hard facts of the case, and afterwards, he asked us where we thought the problem lay and moderated our discussion. It was informative, it was interactive, it was engaging, it was exactly what the rest of the seminar should have been.

But a good 20 minutes of the seminar was taken up with a training video so utterly bland and wretched that it might as well have been hosted by Troy McClure, whom you may remember from such films as Girls Are People Too and Why Ahmed Wears That Funny Hat. (Do I really have to explain that I’m not making fun of females or turbans here, but of the patronising nature of these training videos? I hope not. I really, really hope not. Some days I hang onto my faith in humanity by a thread, so please, please tell me this parenthetical explanation is superfluous.)

You know the type. Four ethnically diverse middle-management types are invited to attend a mandatory workplace sensitivity training seminar, and by speaking amongst themselves, they come to realise that, hey, maybe all those jokes about fat spic women drivers could possibly be considered insensitive in some way. Gosh, we thought this would be a waste of our time, but we’ve certainly all learned an important lesson about respecting our fellow human beings. I for one am now so sensitive that I found a pea beneath my mattress last night.

If anybody from work is reading this… then for crying out loud, read between the lines. Do I have to tell you that I’m in favour of ending workplace discrimination and cracking down on harassment? Of course I do, you’re not mind-readers. But why do I have to tell you in words of one syllable? I react very poorly to being patronised. Before he started reading the case study, the HR man introduced it with the comment: “This is why I have to tell adults like you about things like this.” Yes, but it’s not the why, it’s the how. Work on the case studies; work on engaging and interacting with your audience, and for fuck’s sake, if our ages can be measured with double digits, then treat us like grown-ups until you learn better.

Walking out of the seminar, after I signed the attendance sheet and went back to get some real work done, all I could think of was the Simpsons episode in which the news anchor reports that “Springfield has come down with football fever! There’s only one cure: take two tickets, and call me in the morning! Warning, tickets should not be taken internally.” And Homer turns proudly to his family and says, “See? Because of me, now they have a warning!”

On an entirely unrelated note, yesterday a workplace colleague forwarded me this IQ test. I got 130, which is just a fraction shy of Mensa level; I might be able to get in through bribery, but then the other members would pants me and steal my lunch. Of course, I got so obsessed with finishing the test that I almost forgot that I was doing it at work and thus ended up completing my assignment late, so bear in mind that IQ doesn’t mean that much of anything in the real world.