| We've
all been there. As we settle in on a plane or train or other public transportation
and tuck our bag under the seat and toy with how to spend the next few
hours: catching up on papers, reading, or sleeping. Then IT happens. The
neatly dressed and manicured person, in my case a man, stuffing his matching
laptop computer and brief case under the seat in front of him asks, "What
do you do?"
Quickly I size him up. Can he be trusted or am I opening myself up for the deluge? I run through my prepared list of conversation stoppers--mortician, belly dancer, IRS tax auditor. He looks relatively harmless; his tone seems innocent. I decide to say it, "I work in public education." Like a professional baseball player revving up with his best pitch, the passenger's widening eyes indicate his strike is on the way. He starts in, "When I was in school, nah, nah, nah." (I look out the window, imperceptibly shaking my head.) He continues to list all his perceived limitations of the current educational system. Then he blasts, "And teachers get paid too much! They get three months off and don't work evenings or weekends." That's it! He's crossed the line. I politely ask through a clinched smile, "And what do you do?" hoping to distract the attack. He interrupts his barrage long enough to comment, "I'm in computers," then continues, "teachers...." Undaunted, I probe. "What do you do with computers?" "We design customized database platforms for Fortune 500 companies." Still he persists, "And what's happened to discipline in school?" Losing my patience, I interrupt, "What do you do with these platforms? Do you design them? Sell them?" "I interface with companies to ensure that our product meets their needs," he explains. I think to myself, now it's my turn. "Do you have a computer on your desk at work? You probably use e-mail don't you?" I question. "Of course. I couldn't do my work without my computer or e-mail," he comments. "And I assume you have a phone on your desk, " I smile. Looking a little surprised, he comments. "Certainly. How could I do business without one?" |
I continue with the probe, "Do you have access to a fax and a copier?"
A bit of suspicion begins to creep into his eyes, "Of course." "And I suppose you have an assistant to take calls, set up meetings, and format your reports? Cocking his head a bit and squinting to get a better look at me, he mumbles, "Yes." Raising my voice a bit, I query, "When you interface with these companies, are you meeting with only one company at a time or representatives from several companies at once?" "One at a time" he mumbles without emotion. "Now imagine this," I quip, "you don't have an office, a computer, or an assistant. The only phone is down the hall and shared by 15 other customer representatives. There's one fax machine for the entire company and it's in another building. Now image that you have to meet with a group of 35 customers from 35 different companies, all at the same time. You have 50 minutes with one group before they leave and another 35 representatives from 35 different companies come in. You get to repeat this 5 or 6 times a day. In 6 hours you see about 200 representatives from 200 companies. How effective would you be?" Smugly, he states, "There's no way that would happen!" I reply in a solid, unemotional voice. "It does happen. Every day in schools across the country, teachers work with large numbers of students. Each student comes with specific needs. Teachers do their work without access to computers, phones, e-mail, faxes or copiers. Most teachers design and create their own materials without the help of assistants. Teachers do their work without even the most rudimentary kinds of support that business people take for granted. Try doing what teachers do for just one day and you'll think differently about schools." By the time I finish, he's found his book and buried his face so only his forehead shows. I don't think we'll be talking more this trip. I always wonder though if anything I say sinks in. It's just my one-person campaign to stop the attacks on schools. Try it the next time someone asks, "And what do you do?" |