It's Training Again!

Hot in the City

2011-10-24T01:14:00.000-07:00

Last week my colleagues attended the Call Centre Expo in London, one of the biggest Contact Centre shows of the year for the UK. Our office was stacked up with boxes of marketing material and goodies (I felt it my duty to ensure the fruity polos were of good quality for our customers – and did a cross-check on a few different flavour/packets just to make sure).

Last year’s show was in Birmingham, so with a venue move some 120 miles away everyone was trying to work out whether the location move was going to work. And what a difference it was in comparison to last year’s show – the sales team returned back to the office buzzing!

The interest in our product was phenomenal – not only are we launching version 5.0 soon, we also felt that call scripting was a very hot topic at this year’s event.

At CallScripter we want to simplify the contact centre experience and make the complex scripting simple. In our new version we will improve the visual flow charts, keep the joint script simple and enhance data view. We will also focus on improving outbound campaign management and introduce sophisticated housekeeping procedures.

On top of this, we will launch a diary module – which is an innovative and easy-to-use tool offering customers the ability to book, manage and report on contact centre appointments. If you like an Internet hosted or premise based solution – no problem, we can do it all! The module can also be run in ‘stand-alone’ mode to allow external 3^rd party users to access the diary. This module will also be available in version 5.0.

So - get ready for version 5.0 folks, it will be available in January ’12!

Long Time No Hear

2011-09-19T07:31:00.000-07:00

It’s been some time since my last blog... and so much has changed! Apart from the weather, which remains consistently awful (at least that’s one thing we can rely on). So let’s start with the headlines (you can add your own news-music sounds effects if you wish):

Work wise things are getting hectic on the training front, with lots of bookings from existing customers wanting to top up their CallScripter knowledge. Whoo!

We welcome a person to our team – Galina Solopova, who will be responsible for our marketing initiatives in the future.

Holidays almost all over (apart from mine - Yorkshire here I come!) and the CallScripter team tan’s have faded, along with the stories of sunny beaches, happy hour and children trying to work out why other children don’t necessarily speak English.

Helpdesk-Hilary is due to leave soon to have her baby (or maybe babies, judging by the size of her tummy!).

I decided to copy Hilary, and am expecting (a baby I hope) at the end of February. A proud day for me today as my first button decided to detach itself from my trousers, retreating to a corner screaming out for mercy. I don’t think tracksuit trousers are considered business wear, so some rethinking is needed (or some more shopping – yeh!).

You say tomato

2011-08-10T03:16:00.000-07:00

An earlier blog probably gave an indication of my culinary skills. Despite this knock back, and many others since, all it takes is watching a cookery programme before I start thinking about embarking on yet another doomed attempt at cooking.

This time my inspiration was due to purchasing a new food processor. For many years I’ve read recipes and got to the bit that said “blend the ingredients” before giving up as I hadn’t got a food processor. After some fairly random purchases on Amazon the other day I decided to have a look at their kitchen gadgets, and before I knew it a new sparkly food processor was in the basket and then on its way to my home.

A quick trawl of some recipe websites and I found what I was looking for. Under the category “easy” and “time saving” I found a tomato soup recipe on the BBC Good Cook website (probably the most inappropriately named website as far as I’m concerned). £11.75 later and carrying more than my body weight in tomatoes, I started chopping and dicing. I’ve never been one to read the manual, but managed to put together the new processor (after removing the various bags and tags) ready for the grand event. After 40 minutes of anxious cooking (I never leave the cooker, and tend to stare intently watching the food for any suspicious behaviour), I was ready for the blender (the soup was, not me).

Crikey it was noisy. Both cats looked around in horror, their ears flat against their heads, and then made a sensible exit out of the cat flap. I wasn’t sure how long to blend for so I gave it a good minute or so, and took a peak. Any evidence of solid food had long gone, you could have drunk the soup through a straw. I took a taste of it, and can honestly say it tasted vile. I now have 3 tubs of soup in the freezer which I don’t want to throw away (waste not, etc), but have no idea what to do with it. Maybe paint stripping?

No doubt it will remain in there for a few years until I find it again, and will be forced to throw it out. Or maybe I should hold another dinner party just to remind my guests why we definately shouldn’t have another “Come Dine with Me” competition...

Grumpy Trousers

2011-07-25T09:00:00.000-07:00

Right, a few weeks ago I was getting quite excited about the long hot summer ahead. I’d been drawn (conned) into buying some very lovely summer clothes (as one does), as well as lots of useless tut for the garden (if you’re going to have a seating area for drinks, you need some candles for mood lighting purposes). Due to my spending behaviour the UK is now rolling into a 3^rd week of gloomy, showery and overcast weather, with temperatures peaking around 18c each day. I have given up thinking it will soon pass over, and have taken up a more satisfying role ranting about how unfair it is that we have such dull dreary winters, only to have the same thing during the summer. Winter clothes are still being worn (minus the coat), and most weekends involve at least some time watching the rain drip from the candles in the garden.

To cap it off, we also have the vagueness of the weather forecast. The words “should” or “could” regularly come into play, along with “the possibility of “ and “could affect almost anywhere”. Which leads me nicely onto the one thing the forecaster does get perfectly right, and the one thing that really gets me raging uncontrollably at the TV. It’s the bit where they tell you what the weather was today, that is, after today has happened. I am at an absolute loss as to why this information is useful to anyone. “Well today saw some cloud over Ipswich, and then some spits and spots of rain, but on the whole it was a clear but cool day”. Well done you! They seem so pleased with themselves! I’ve a good mind to ring them up, and offer to tell them what the lottery winning numbers were last week, because that’s got to be as useful.

Clearly its true when they say the weather affects our mood... I need to get some sunshine. And I’m not relying on our forecast to tell me when that’s going to happen (rest assured they'll tell me when it has been nice). Until the sun shines, I’m continuing to wear the grumpy trousers.

The X Factor

2011-07-19T01:04:00.001-07:00

One of the benefits of being a trainer is getting to see places that you wouldn’t otherwise. This works in both ways – I have been to places that I certainly wouldn’t revisit (and I’m not going to name them here, OK, apart from Wisbech, Nuneaton, Wellingborough, Corby and certain parts of Leeds). Last week I trained one of our new customers, a legal firm in Liverpool. I went to Liverpool earlier this year, but stayed on the outskirts of the city, whereas this time I was smack-bang in the city centre. The journey from the car park to the hotel took me straight past the Echo Arena – and joy! The X Factor auditions! It was always touch and go as to whether I could make a career from being a pop star and it was only due to having training the next morning that kept me from joining the queue and showing the young whippersnappers how it’s done.

This led to a fair amount of day dreaming as I continued my walk, and it was quite a drop down to reality as I checked into the Premier Inn and carried my own bags up to my room.

Liverpool, city of culture, was really rather lovely – and I mentioned this to the receptionist when I arrived for training. She politely commented that Ipswich too had a waterfront, and hadn’t that had some redevelopment? Indeed it has, but it lacks the beauty and architecture of the Liverpool version, plus the river in Ipswich smells rather unpleasant whenever the weather heats up, not a good accompaniment to sipping a glass of wine watching the local “yoofs” getting tanked up and displaying some rather unbecoming behaviour.

Anyway, back down south and back to Ipswich, city of Suffolk people and all the special things that brings. As usual I promise a visit for pleasure purposes as soon as I can, knowing full well that I will settle for the pongy river instead.

Feeling Hot Hot Hot!

2011-06-27T01:21:00.000-07:00

It’s that rare occasion in the UK where we have a few hot days (and by hot, I mean over 20C. Not the "hot" weather (10c) that seems to make people wear flip flops and shorts in March). This lovely hot weather triggers the same reactions and events every year:

Hard Core Elderly folk: amazingly still wear lots of clothes (I saw one lady wearing a coat on Sunday in temperatures of around 28c). I have a theory that each year you get older, you put another layer on. Maybe its bravado “hey look at me, EIGHT layers today and I still haven’t fainted”.

Doom: Don’t even think about enjoying the weather. The newspapers make it their mission to report the heat wave and send fear into our hearts by telling us that THOUSANDS will die. Helpful hints are provided to help us survive like drink water, wear light clothing (take heed elderly folk!) and stay in the shade. Thank goodness, I don’t know how we’d get through the next few days without this.

Shops: people panic buy outdoor stuff. I think part of the British optimism is based on our short memory as we seem to forget that our weather is pretty awful most of the time, and only need a hint of sunshine to go out and spend loads of money on outdoor furniture, BBQs, and pergolas. Then we sit indoors and watch them getting a good wash a few days later.

Redness: We all know we should apply lots of sunscreen. Unless some terribly embarrassing event has already occurred in the office this morning that I’m not aware of, there are some very red faces. We can’t help but get over excited and race outside and gently cook ourselves until well done on both sides.

Personally I would love to go back to the days at my primary school where hot weather meant collecting together your books and sitting outside in the sun to work. My lap top battery isn’t very good at holding power, so I just need to find myself a 50ft extension cable. And some ear plugs to block out the sound of the A14 traffic. On second thoughts, I'll stay at my desk.

Blowing the cobwebs away

2011-06-13T04:41:00.000-07:00

For those of you enjoying the silence, have no fear – I have returned from my holiday sporting the obligatory tan and the need to start booking my next holiday as soon as possible.

I’ve only been away for a week, but clearly my brain has gone slightly mushy. This morning, whilst building a script for a new training course I decided to look out of the window for some inspiration (honest gov, I know that sounds weak, but s’truth!). We have a wind turbine just outside our building which spends most of its time not moving. Luckily our building doesn’t rely on this power, and I’m guessing the people that do in the one next door have a back up plan, otherwise productivity must be rather sporadic. You can imagine the phone call “Errr Michael, don’t worry about coming into work today, we’ve got no wind”. And then I noticed it. Shock horror – the blades from the wind turbine had GONE!! I blinked and looked again, just to make sure. Still no blades (I don’t know why I use this technique, it only works after a few glasses of wine). In a state of I’m-not-sure what (panic, excitement – it is a Monday morning and these things are always more interesting at the beginning of the week, or feeling slightly smug that I was the only one who’d noticed it), I pointed out this fact to my colleagues.

It was Hilary who gently broke the news. The girl missed a career in the counselling or care profession. “You idiot, that’s the flag pole you’re looking at!”. I leaned back a few inches in my chair. Ooooh yeah. There it was. Still in place, and because its June and summertime in the UK, the blades are firing around at their fastest rate in months. Those guys must be working like fury in the building next door today and making the most of it. Looking at the issue more objectively I can see that the flag pole isn’t really tall (or wide enough) to support the blades, making the journey into the car park a life and death game each day. Now there’s an idea to get everyone motivated.

But what is the flag pole for then? What flag do we fly, and when? If it's a flag for being daft, it should be flying on my behalf this morning.

Dancing With Myself

2011-05-23T00:50:00.001-07:00

It didn’t take long. Just a few seconds to stop me in my tracks and feel uncomfortable enough not to carry on. I know its good for me, but really, does it have to look THAT bad?

I’m talking about running. Oooh I do love my running. I go about 3 or 4 times a week, and cover a couple of miles each time. Any stress or tension just melts away when I’m thundering my way around some country lanes, breathing through my nostrils as much as possible to filter out the richer smells of the Suffolk countryside. Occasionally a car or three goes past, so I have to squash myself into the hedgerow as the occupants go past, their faces painting a picture of worry, nervousness or just sheer pity. Sometimes I’ve wondered why this might be, and the other day I got my answer. On this occasion the road was a bit wider so I managed to keep a gentle jog going, and as I glanced at the car, I caught sight of myself reflected in the windows. Oh dear. Obviously most people don’t look fantastic when exercising, but it looked like I was wrestling with myself, or carrying out some mad Dad-dancing routine as I ran along. My elbows were pointing outwards and my derrière seemed to be acting as some kind of counter-weight (and not a small one at that). I looked like a demented chicken flapping it’s wings wearing lycra (not that I’ve seen one of those). Some people look so graceful and at ease when running, whereas I’m surprised I haven’t given myself a couple of black eyes and beaten myself to a pulp. I must burn twice as many calories compared to the average runner with all the additional arm and head activity going on, if only my body would acknowledge that fact.

I’m not quite sure what to do now. Maybe I need to find another activity to keep fit, perhaps that hanky waving exercise routine older people do in village halls.

Either way, its just a matter of time before I’m carted away somewhere for disturbing the peace.

Spangley Sequins

2011-05-16T02:07:00.001-07:00

OK, confession time. I didn’t actually grow up wanting to be an IT trainer. When we sat in our classroom at primary school and the teacher asked each child what they wanted to do when they grew up, I didn’t throw “IT Trainer” into the mix alongside train drivers, ballet dancers or nurses. I actually wanted to be an ice skater, despite never been ice skating (and still haven’t), I think I must have been drawn in by the sequin costumes and billowing hair. Whilst IT training is something I love doing, I’ve not found a way to combine the sequins and computers just yet, and time is fast running out where I can get away with wearing a spangley number.

So where did it start? School wasn’t a fantastic experience for me, I struggled. Big time. I couldn’t understand the importance of measuring stones in Geography. I didn’t care what the value of “X” was in maths. And as for sticking pieces of fabric together in Textiles.... So when I left school I wasn’t exactly weighed down with qualifications. Initially I went to college (default option for anyone who can’t decide what to do) but after 2 years of performing arts (so lots of dressing up but still no ice) I started work at BT. My first job involved, amongst other high level tasks, taking paper off the fax machine and pressing it flat. Then one day a PC was installed in our office (one between eight staff) and the typewriter took up residence in the stationery cupboard. The PC was AMAZING. You could actually undo what you’d typed without tippex! When you typed along a page it automatically moved DOWN to the next line! Happy days indeed, even in the early days of Microsoft applications (remember Retry, Abort or Cancel?).

Finally I had found something I liked doing, and gradually the “how do I” requests merged into a training job, dispelling the myth that those can’t, teach.

Still no sequins though...

Paranoid Android

2011-05-09T02:41:00.000-07:00

So I get in my car this morning, start the engine, and then that awful panicky feeling hits me. Did I really turn off the hairdryer? Is a fire gently smouldering on the carpet and noxious fumes are now wafting around the house? Is the back door locked, or has a burglar already begun stealing my life long collection of cheesy pop anthems? Is one of the cats locked in the wardrobe, and suffering from being trapped in a small enclosure with my running shoes? Is the gas on and about to ignite some highly flammable nuclear material I’ve carelessly left nearby? Pushing these worrying thoughts to the back of my mind, I drive off down the road, only to conduct a poorly executed 5-point turn to drive back again a few seconds later as the worrying thoughts get the better of me, and I have visions of returning back home to a cinder. Lord only knows what the neighbours must make of me as I give the front door a few obligatory shakes before leaving (again).

Am I the only one that gets these obsessive compulsive checking disorders? I know I have locked the front door, and turned off all electrical appliances, so why the need to go back and check again?! I guess sometimes this is a good thing for my job, my training is always well prepared and checked about a hundred times before I leave (no chance of forgetting something).

The same thing happens when I have to travel. I don’t know how many times I empty the entire contents of my travel bag onto the lounge/car/airport floor to retrieve my well-thumbed (not through travelling – just through checking) passport. It makes the entire experience twice as stressful, and very alarming for anyone else travelling with me (I guess a red faced neurotic panicky passenger isn’t the ideal travelling companion). Being on holiday doesn't make it any better, in fact it just gives me even more time to dream up some new worrying scenarios, usually involving blending the usual ones into an almight disaster (what if I left a tap on, which flooded the bathroom, which then brought down the ceiling and which subsequently fell onto the cooker (obviously left on) and then set fire to the house with the cat trapped in the wardrobe). By the time I return home I can feel the tension drop away as I lay eyes on my house and realise it is still standing.

I’m tempted to start a support group, if only I knew that I wouldn’t be the only member.... so if you are the same, reply with your own compulsive checking disorder and let me know I'm not alone...

D(iet) Day

2011-05-04T01:07:00.000-07:00

After a few days off it was time to return back to work, and time to spend at least half hour staring at the wardrobe complaining that I have nothing to wear. Which isn’t strictly true, I have lots of clothes, but nothing that reflected my mood today (which can only be described as “shell shocked” following a few days of lie-ins). So I’m now sitting at work wondering whether I locked the cat in the wardrobe during the pondering time, particularly as she has a tendency to jump into anything you happen to open and desperately don’t want her to get in. Eventually I found some suitable (grey) trousers, or so I thought until I tried to do them up. It seems like the eating, drinking and all round merriment has taken up residence on my hips, and there is a gap between each side of the zip, either neither side making any effort to make friends again. I managed to get the zip done up laying down on the bed, and then returning myself very carefully to a standing position without bending in the middle. All well and good until I needed to get in the car. As usual, one of my neighbours was loitering around so I had to cover up my wincing as my trousers gently sliced my body in half and the sounds of threads breaking under the strain crackled as I sat down.

Suddenly those magazine advertisements selling elasticated trousers seem quite attractive...

I Do I Do I Do

2011-04-26T02:12:00.000-07:00

No matter how much you might try, you can’t avoid the Royal Wedding mania now. I actually bought some union jack flags from Sainsbury’s and still have no idea why, I certainly won’t be in London, and sitting waving the flag forlornly at my TV isn’t going to cut the mustard.

The original plan was to hold a street party with our neighbours, but various “elf and safety” rules meant this was getting ridiculously complicated and expensive. So plan B it was, and we’ve resigned ourselves to holding a party in the car park round the back of the houses by the garages. Classy. Just what Kate and Wills would want if they had the choice and weren’t being forced to marry at Westminster Abbey.

And so the questions. Why is Kate going to be Katherine after she has married? Someone volunteered the answer that you couldn’t have “Princess Ka’ee”. Will she wear her hair up or down? Why will it take 4 minutes to walk down the aisle? And the answer offered by one of my more cynical colleagues “who cares?”.

We just don’t celebrate like we used to. The Silver Jubilee, Charles and Diana’s wedding all generated so much interest and merry-making, we don’t seem to have the same enthusiasm. I don’t agree that its due to the recession, the 70’s and 80’s had their fair share of doom and gloom. So whilst the back of our garages isn’t the most luxurious location (unless I get the sun lounger chairs out), I’m sure a bottle of Blue Nun wine will help achieve the necessary state of hype.

Regardless of your royal views, most of us will have a day off, so whatever your celebration plans, enjoy the day, and the chance to toast a new piece of history.

What? Who? Where?

2011-04-18T02:05:00.000-07:00

I do wish that I could be a bit more “with it” in the mornings. This morning I wandered from my front door with my neighbour, chatting about the weekend, round to the garages, only to remember my car was parked right outside my front door (so I had walked right past it.). Having said that, we had a slight misunderstanding just after Christmas, so I think he is used to my general state of confusion before 9am. My neighbour is a local news reporter, so when I bump into him in the mornings I tend to ask where he is going or what story he’s going to cover. Our conversation went like this:

Me: Morning! Where are you off to today then?

Kevin: Well now, it happens that I’m going to Orford (coast of Suffolk), and then sailing round to Ireland (hundreds of miles away via the North Sea).

Me: Wow! That’s one hell of a journey! Will you get back in one day?

Kevin: <no reply – just a look of confusion>

Me: I’m only going to Liverpool – makes my journey seem insignificant in comparison to yours! Well, safe sailing!

A few days later I bumped into Kevin’s wife, who clarified that he was driving to Orford, and then sailing around an island a mile or so offshore. Which is probably more realistic than sailing from Suffolk to Ireland on a small boat.

Maybe it’s my hearing. We had new neighbours move in, and I have spent at least six months thinking they were called “James and the teacher”. Yes, I did think it odd that everyone called James by his name, yet his wife was known by her occupation. Finally I found out that they are James and Letitia. But that was only after I’d called them this to their face (“are you bringing the teacher too?”).

Doctor’s appointment to get ears syringed has been booked...

The days of the pocket diary are numbered

2011-04-11T07:16:00.000-07:00

Time management – a real buzz word in the 80’s, and bandied around usually during periods of manic activity in the office “I know it’s busy, but you must manage your time more effectively”.

Aside from being busy, its more difficult to get on with tasks that are not interesting, or difficult, and so get put to the bottom of the pile. A technique called “dotting” is sometimes used by time management consultants to view unproductive “faffing” with paperwork. The idea is each time you touch a piece of paper that needs to be dealt with, you mark it with a red dot (so you focus on dealing with things rather than putting them off again and again). A good technique if you use paper, doesn’t translate quite so well to the PC monitor and emails.

A training website suggested “getting motivated” as a way of dealing with those unpleasant tasks, but just finding the motivation to get motivated is tricky. One company I worked for years ago used to give out motivational posters as prizes for hard work (you know, the ones with photos of wild animals, with words of wisdom underneath, for example, a bear catching some salmon, with a line reading “Quick! Go before you get eaten!!”). It was confusing as to why someone who clearly worked very hard needed rewarding with a poster to motivate them even more, and amusing to see them struggle to sound grateful and surprised whenever in receipt of one “Wow! This is something....”.

Anyway, if you are finding it difficult to schedule in time for training, or need some motivation in gaining new ideas, why not contact CallScripter training to discuss how our solutions can fit in around your business? Our flexible webinars offer all the usual benefits of classroom training (including hands-on experience during training), but can fit in around your business requirements.

And I promise - no motivational posters or quotes...

Confusion Reigns

2011-04-04T01:02:00.000-07:00

The clocks changed in the UK last weekend, moving us into the rather inappropriately named “British Summer Time”. As the temperature rarely gets above 12c this time of year, the thought of wearing any summer clothes seems just ridiculous. That hasn’t stopped some optimistic individuals wearing flip flops and shorts, triggered by just the smallest snippet of sunshine.

Is it possible to get a version of jet lag from just one hour changeover? At least 4 people in our office complained about how out of sorts they felt (although a strong cup of tea seemed to help) the following Monday morning. Although using the time change as an excuse throughout the week for any forgotten tasks, misunderstandings, etc, did wear a little thin.

My Dad is still confused though. He was watching football on TV yesterday afternoon, and during half time the camera panned onto some guy, wearing a Michael Jackson mask and the standard red jacket/white glove, short black trousers look. He moon-walked, and body popped whilst throwing in the obligatory crotch grab. My Dad laughed to himself, and then said “what an odd thing to do, dressing up as Colonel Gaddafi during a football match”.

Time to Invest in a Goose

2011-03-28T01:26:00.000-07:00

Anyone born 1990+ won’t have a clue what I’m on about, so if this does apply to you, it might be useful to Google “Top Gun” before reading this. We all need a wing man. Someone to watch out for you, look over your shoulder, check your blind spot. Heading back to the 1980’s and the original era of Top Gun (oh happy days) I remember just how important Goose was to Maverick (a much younger Tom Cruise). I would have appreciated my own Goose back then, even if it was just to provide some important advice on NOT having my hair permed, and that trying to mimic the Lady Diana-coy-smile was never going to work for me (I don’t think my Mum has a single photo that doesn’t have a teenage-me peering out from under a huge flicked fringe). And nowadays as a trainer the need for a wing (wo)man is perhaps even greater. It might look easy, but for anyone who has trained will know talking, thinking about what you are saying next, anticipating and answering questions as well as having at least 3 ways of explaining something (just in case someone doesn’t understand) isn’t easy. I’d also like to have someone fix things in the training room when they don’t work so I can continue training, to help get ready for the next session, or to pop out and fetch that all important cup of tea.

I guess that’s the same for all of us though – and this is where training can really help you with contingency. One of our customers has recently undertaken a project to multi-skill their team, and this has made a huge difference to them. From when staff is off on holiday, absent through ill health, when the workload increases and someone is there to help out, or just to bring about new ideas to improve existing work processes, having training really does make life easier. So why not find out how your business can acquire their own Goose and contact CallScripter training?

It shouldn't happen to a trainer

2011-03-22T01:57:00.000-07:00

We’ve all had our bad days. William Catchpole, our Chief Executive, told me a story about a chap who had to collect a motorbike in his van, and deliver it a few hundred miles away. Just after setting off, he thought he could hear something rattling around (probably not a good noise to hear), so he pulled over on the motorway, left the van engine running, and opened the doors to investigate. This man was clearly the type who likes to do things properly, so he actually got inside the back of the van to check each strap was secure. Suddenly a lorry drove past, and as it did, a huge gust of wind was generated, in turn slamming the back doors shut, leaving the driver in darkness, locked alone in the back of the van. His keys, phone and wallet were on the front seat, the engine still running. As a trainer, I can relate to these moments of sheer panic, where you are lost, the network on site stops working, or a PC fails to respond. I always find switching things off and on again helps (apart from when you’re lost, this doesn’t do anything), but options were fairly limited for this unfortunate gentleman. Anyway, rather than throw himself around the van screaming hysterically until he was exhausted and collapse in a heap of tears (usually my plan A), he managed to fiddle around with the locking mechanism and rescue himself. What a hero.

So what things have gone wrong for me? I’ve been both locked in, and locked out of training rooms (locked in due to a dodgy lock, not unruly delegates). I’ve rescued a piglet (running round on a busy road) whilst travelling to a training venue (I managed to rehome it before I actually went into training). I sat on a blob of chewing gum whilst waiting in reception for a customer, and when I stood up to shake the hand of the project manager I remained attached to the chair by a string of gum. It seems I’m not alone though, and other trainers seem to have similar types of misfortune – one most recently was stuck in a lift for over an hour with his delegates just the other side of the doors. James Herriott wrote a whole series of books based on his career as a vet, I’m not sure “It shouldn’t happen to a trainer” has quite the same ring.

Come Di(n)e with Me

2011-03-14T02:07:00.000-07:00

I’ve always felt rather intimidated by the various domestic goddesses on the TV, and their smugness when producing amazing dishes with a flourish and a slightly raised eyebrow, as if even they are surprised at how marvellous they are (can you tell I’m jealous?).

I think it was Sadie (in Professional Services) who suggested we could give these chefs a run for their money and host our own “come dine with me” competition (for those of you who don’t know, this is a TV show where 4 contestants take it in turns to host a dinner party). No £1000 prize money for this, just the fact you have survived the cooking is prize enough. Those of you who personally know me already know I don't have a good relationship with cooking (I'm thinking of the frozen chicken fiasco on Boxing Day...).

Sadie was first, and worked a full day in the office, got home, fed and washed her children, put them to bed and then produced a 3 course dinner whilst maintaining a glamourous unruffled look. And the food was gorgeous. And her house was incredibly tidy too. And she wasn’t very smug about it (maybe a little bit). The only down side might have been to the non-cat lovers, as her cat decided to perform the “wall of death”, running round the dining room wall at top speed, just after pudding (or maybe that was part of the entertainment).

Emma was next, and as one would expect from someone in Marketing, the presentation was perfect and the event was organised to within an inch of its life. Brimming with confidence Emma actually gave a tour of her house whilst grilling the chicken for her starter (whereas I would be clinging onto the oven door watching frantically).

I decided that it had to be me next. My starter went well. For the main course I meant to serve the rice in ramekins, but couldn’t be bothered so slopped it onto the plates (Sadie: “excellent presentation Rach”). And then the ill-fated pudding (you can tell there isn’t a happy end to this story). The recipe said it was easy, so it must be. I did a trial run with the step children and managed to persuade (bribe) them it was lovely. So the first thing was whisking egg whites, which I had to do in the kitchen/dining room whilst my guests tried to make conversation and waited for the nasty aftertaste of the main course to subside. “Carry on chatting, don’t mind me” I screamed over the noise of the whisk. Conversation well and true annihilated, I added the other ingredients and shoved the pud in the oven. Job done, I had a few glasses of wine, which in hindsight was probably not a smart move. I couldn’t remember when I put the pudding in the oven, so left it to my instincts as to when to serve it. After what seemed like 40 minutes, but was clearly only 10, I attempted to serve the pudding, which was half baked and half raw (I needed a solid spoon for the job). Hilary looked terrified as I filled up her bowl. I scooped the pudding from her bowl and back into the dish and popped it back in the oven and decided to cremate it for another 20 minutes. After 10 minutes I checked it, only to realise I had turned the oven off, and the non-discrete “Ping” as I turned the oven back on again gave the game away. Sadie ate hers, but I think the Liebfraumilch had got the better of her, Hilary was so relieved that it looked cooked she washed hers down with mouthfuls of water, and Emma tried to swap bowls with Sadie discreetly when I wasn’t looking.

It’s Hilary’s turn on Friday, and then the announcement of who has won. I’m already putting in place my sabotage plan... I won't be last place!

And I’m just about to start penning a strongly worded letter to Mr Jamie Oliver about his so-called “easy recipes”. Angel Delight next time....

Up with the birdies...

2011-03-07T03:14:00.000-08:00

Webinars. How can you gauge how people are getting on if you can’t see them? If you can’t see a raised eyebrow how can you gauge if they don’t understand something? How can you wake them up if you don’t know they have fallen asleep? It’s not easy, but the CallScripter customers I’ve dealt with make the job much easier by giving loads of feedback, plus its my job to try and make them as interactive and interesting as possible. This week I’ve been doing some demos to show customers the billing and workflow, and so far, so good. These are free of charge so are an excellent opportunity to learn about ways to streamline your business processes.

Last year saw two new customers onboard from Australia and New Zealand. In anticipation of some sunshine I gleefully started packing my suitcase, only to unpack it again when both opted for webinars rather than on-site training (despite my best efforts to persuade/bribe/beg). So with an 11 hour time difference it meant either a very early or late start to training. It was down to the customer to select their preference, and early starts it was.

After applying a label to cover my laptop camera (it hasn’t ever worked, but I couldn’t risk scaring the customers with my early morning look) my brain had a rude awakening at 4.00am – get up, shower, drink coffee, then explain how to import data into script fields. I’m not one of those people who drift from their bed gracefully looking gently ruffled - more of an army commando roll from the bed onto the floor with hair sticking up on end and one eye glued shut. Gravity works it’s evil magic during the night, and attempts to change the layout of my face. The creases left by my pillow on my face now take hours to disappear. Thankfully the training has gone well, and I can now enjoy a lie in until 6.30am again.

Anyway, before I sign off this web-related blog, it seems appropriate to share a web related joke.

I thought about buying a spider as a pet for my other half. I went to the pet shop and they charged £70. “that’s no good” I thought, “I can get a cheaper one off the web”.

The Life Changing Question

2011-02-25T06:10:00.000-08:00

Despite being an IT trainer, I’ve always been a bit slow to take up the latest bits of technical wizardry. I suppose its a bit like a builder not being that excited about the latest range of building tools that have come out – bus man’s holiday and all that. However, after telling people about the various dramas I seem to experience out on the road (lets just say my middle name isn’t Lucky) I thought a blog might offer some benefits. Firstly, for you, when ploughing through your daily workload a little bit of light relief, and secondly, maybe a bit of therapy for me.

“I wonder what its like to be an IT trainer”. A life-changing question I’m sure most people have asked themselves at important moments in their life. So I’ll attempt to lift the laptop lid on my experiences and share these with you.

So where to start... telling you about the time I sat on a huge blob of chewing gum whilst waiting in a reception area before starting training? The way the chair was still connected to me as I stood up? The horrible sensation every time I stood up that day of still being adhered to whatever it was I happened to be sitting on?

Or maybe the relaxing lunchtime walk with one of my colleagues, where I decided to try and scare a baby seagull from the middle of the road to prevent it being hit by a car, but only succeeded in chasing it into the path of a lorry?

You get the picture. So my intention is to write this blog regularly (unless I’m travelling to a location which prevents me from doing so), and whether it be education, amusement or just to tell you about the less glamourous side of training (actually I can’t think of any glamour associated with training at the moment. I’ll try and come up with something for the next blog). Thanks for reading, and check the blog again soon.