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This is a story about a manager who is usually not a moron in any way. Microphones appear to be her Kryptonite.
We had a big group meeting the other day. Those are held in a long conference room that's actually a series of five small conference rooms with the dividers opened. Because of its size and shape, the acoustics aren't very good, so for these big meetings, a microphone and a speaker are set up for the presenter to use.
The speaker is a bit old (about 15 years), and there's a short in it somewhere. If it receives a sound that is too loud, it will *pop* and shut itself off. Fixing it is easy; somebody just has to flick the power switch off and on again. For most people, this is never a problem. Except one manager whom I will refer to as Lola.
Lola is the last presenter for this meeting. The speaker has shorted out once in the last 90 minutes, and it has been turned on again. We all know that the microphone has been working because HR Guy Steve just spent 45 minutes talking to us about diversity without any problems. Lola picks up the microphone, whispers to it, "Is this thing on?", and blows into it as hard as she can. I don't mean just a little puff of air as if someone was putting out a match. I mean a blast of breath and spittle like a four-year-old trying to blow out a hundred trick birthday candles.
So we hear: PPHBBHTBBHTPHBTPHTHPTHHH! *pop* "Oh. I guess not. Can someone turn this on?"
The speaker gets power cycled, and the mic starts working again. Lola is holding it at chest level and speaking in a normal voice. As the speaker powers up, we can hear her perfectly. Then she realizes that her voice is being amplified. She asks, "Oh, is it on now?" She then proceeds to practically shove the head of the microphone into her mouth and shout the next part of her speech.
"EMAIL SECURITY!" *pop*
"SIGNATURE LINES!" *pop*
"OUTLOOK!" *pop*
"BLACKBERRY!" *pop*
"SECURE SERVER!" *pop*
This continues for her whole 20 minutes. When the speaker has shut itself off, she holds the mic normally and speaks normally. When she notices that it's on again, she eats the mic and yells. Or she taps on it. Or she blows raspberries at it. Once, just as the poor soul seated closest to the speaker has flipped the switch for what must be the 12th time, she asks, "What's wrong with this thing?", glares at the mic, and whacks it against the table.
No amount of "coaching" from the audience could convince her to change her ways. She was speaking, and she was not going to be interrupted. And, of course, this is the one part of the two-hour meeting that actually had any degree of relevance or importance to the whole group.
I just don't get how she didn't notice the pattern.
We had a big group meeting the other day. Those are held in a long conference room that's actually a series of five small conference rooms with the dividers opened. Because of its size and shape, the acoustics aren't very good, so for these big meetings, a microphone and a speaker are set up for the presenter to use.
The speaker is a bit old (about 15 years), and there's a short in it somewhere. If it receives a sound that is too loud, it will *pop* and shut itself off. Fixing it is easy; somebody just has to flick the power switch off and on again. For most people, this is never a problem. Except one manager whom I will refer to as Lola.
Lola is the last presenter for this meeting. The speaker has shorted out once in the last 90 minutes, and it has been turned on again. We all know that the microphone has been working because HR Guy Steve just spent 45 minutes talking to us about diversity without any problems. Lola picks up the microphone, whispers to it, "Is this thing on?", and blows into it as hard as she can. I don't mean just a little puff of air as if someone was putting out a match. I mean a blast of breath and spittle like a four-year-old trying to blow out a hundred trick birthday candles.
So we hear: PPHBBHTBBHTPHBTPHTHPTHHH! *pop* "Oh. I guess not. Can someone turn this on?"
The speaker gets power cycled, and the mic starts working again. Lola is holding it at chest level and speaking in a normal voice. As the speaker powers up, we can hear her perfectly. Then she realizes that her voice is being amplified. She asks, "Oh, is it on now?" She then proceeds to practically shove the head of the microphone into her mouth and shout the next part of her speech.
"EMAIL SECURITY!" *pop*
"SIGNATURE LINES!" *pop*
"OUTLOOK!" *pop*
"BLACKBERRY!" *pop*
"SECURE SERVER!" *pop*
This continues for her whole 20 minutes. When the speaker has shut itself off, she holds the mic normally and speaks normally. When she notices that it's on again, she eats the mic and yells. Or she taps on it. Or she blows raspberries at it. Once, just as the poor soul seated closest to the speaker has flipped the switch for what must be the 12th time, she asks, "What's wrong with this thing?", glares at the mic, and whacks it against the table.
No amount of "coaching" from the audience could convince her to change her ways. She was speaking, and she was not going to be interrupted. And, of course, this is the one part of the two-hour meeting that actually had any degree of relevance or importance to the whole group.
I just don't get how she didn't notice the pattern.
This must be a reference to something I'm not familiar with...
So it is. This is why I should not reply to posts when sleep-deprived...
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