She has quickly gained confidence, and this confidence has quickly gained momentum. Janine is no longer so aware of the round sweat marks under her arms, or of her glowing, burning cheeks. Her shoulders are no longer hunched. Janine is ready to continue the flow but is unable to do so, because I interrupt her.
"With all due respect, Janine," I say, gazing at the round circles underneath her armpits and then at her glowing, burning cheeks, "but all I am hearing at the moment are problems. The world is full of problems. We are sick of problems. We don't need any more problems, dear. Your negativity is spreading like wildfire in the room. What I am more interested in are the solutions. Do you actually have any?"
"Yes," Janine says, bravely holding my eye for just a millisecond. "I was just about to come to that. I was merely setting the scene first. I apologise if I came across as negative. I would like to think that I was being realistic, but there you go. My solution is to migrate the five teams into one team, in one location, with one leader, all doing one, consistent job..."
"Sounds absolutely fantastic," I say, jutting my neck out. There is plenty of room inside my pink shirt to do so. The other, younger and more athletic men in the room all wear ties. I don't. "So that means that four teams will be out of jobs. These employees will lose their livelihoods and, with no money or hope coming into the household, they will presumably end up living on the streets, begging for food with the ducks down by the Thames. As if that wasn't enough, the company will lose their invaluable experience and expertise. And that is only the beginning of our problems: the company will need to recruit their replacements. Recruitment costs money; what other cuts will need to be made to meet this? I'm not sure I share your undoubted enthusiasm for the proposal, Janine..."
One guy around the table, the one with muscled arms and a shirt that has been rolled up higher than any of his compatriots, buries his head in his hands. Janine clears the frog from her throat. Her voice croaks, then rises. But she still manages to talk. "Thank you for your contribution," she says. Her smile could be drawn with a ruler. "Naturally, I have already considered all of these objections. I reassure you that none of our valued colleagues will lose their jobs. Other teams are keen to utilise their experience and skills in roles at the same grade. And colleagues in the core location have expressed an interest in joining our team. They will require limited training and will, I am confident, be an asset to our unit..."
Janine's eyes fix on me; they are wide and glaring and challenging. In fact, all eyes are on me. The rest of the room expect me to throw a grenade back at Janine. They expect it to explode, and to cause maximum disruption.
"Well I don't know about you," I say, glancing around at each and every face, "but I think Janine deserves a round of applause for that delivery..."
The tension disappears with the metaphorical click of a finger and is replaced with laughter. I lead the way, loudly clapping my hands. The others quickly join in. Janine fans her pretty face and then does a curtsey, which, in turn, gets a laugh. She gladly returns to her seat, relieved that the drama is over. I wait for the adrenaline to die down.
"That was fantastic, Janine," I say.
"You really were such a horrible little man," Janine says, laughing. "I wanted to throttle you."
I hold the palms of my hands up in surrender. "I do get carried away sometimes, I confess," I say. "But unfortunately, it is the name of the game with these workshops. The better you do, the more I test you. Take it as a compliment that I was heinous. I am here to play your very worst nightmare. And these people do exist, although - admittedly - usually in more subtle guises. The worst ones are those in sheep's clothing. You've picked up everything I covered on this workshop, though, and that is a credit to you. You were prepared for each of my objections and confrontations and you responded with logical and reasoned arguments. I'm sorry that I was hard on you," I say, and this is met by knowing laughter, "but for you I upped the tempo somewhat. I'm just glad that you didn't bite and tell me where to go, because that would have ruined the effect somewhat."
I've been running these workshops for about five years now. I mainly deliver them to large corporations across the city with deep pockets and plenty of learning and development boxes to tick to keep the regulators off their backs. The topics range from Leading and Communicating to Building Resilience and they vary in length from two hours to five days. This session started just mid-morning, just after my appointment. Sometimes I even need to pack my suitcase and travel to cities as far afield as Birmingham, Manchester and Leeds. I'm self-employed, and I can choose whether or not to accept a job. I don't need the money and I don't need the work. I'm aware that this is an enviable position to be in. I don't even view it as a real job. All of this suits me fine. It is a deliberate arrangement. I see it as a hobby. I only do it to keep
