Ten Ways to Provide Bad Training

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Here at FELTG, we are very fortunate to work with some of the best trainers in the business. The following guest article is written by one of them and is reprinted with the permission of the author.

By Michael Vandergriff, May 16, 2018

After training managers, supervisors, and employees for four decades, I think I may have seen it all.  This may not be the top ten tactics for delivering bad training, but they are contenders.

To provide bad training:

Do Not Parse Your Employees by Level or Function

Missile Shots and Garbage Disposals.  In a class on Project Management in the ’90s, a participant on the left said that my prescription was at the heart of the rescheduling of missile shots.  Five minutes later, a participant on the right expressed his challenges around gathering his tools to repair in-sink garbage disposals.

Contract with a “Memorex” Trainer

Rookie Mistake.  “Green” trainers lack breadth and depth of knowledge and experience.  A linear delivery can be highly polished, smoothly delivered, and have all the impact of a senior presentation in a business school.  Also, questions might be a problem.

Do Not Promote Your Training

How does it Play in Peoria?  About 20 years ago, I was contracted to deliver a day of training for the City of Peoria. Arriving for the training, I introduced myself to the new Director of Training.  He replied, “Who are you, and what training?”  The prior occupant of the job had left hastily to take an opportunity in Chicago, leaving a non-class in his wake.  No announcements.  I asked the new training director what he knew about training and he replied that he knew nothing.  Inviting him to take a seat, I delivered an overview of employee training and development.  When I am asked about the smallest class I have ever addressed, I reply, “Half a day for zero participants.”

Allow Critical Decisions to Be Made by the Powerful and Ignorant

Training Killer.  It was the early 1980s and I had developed a reputation as a competent multi-topic presenter at the California State Training Center in Sacramento.  The center was not in Sacramento, as such, but was across the Sacramento River, in Bryte.  A lot of residents were elderly Russian immigrants whose yards were being overrun by prostitutes the Sac Police officers were chasing out of downtown.  Also, the entry to the center was often blocked in the morning by someone sleeping it off.  My “halo effect” was not fueled by competence as much as adrenaline. To borrow from NASA, failure was not an option.  I was proud that, in my mid-twenties, I was invited to take the lead on the state’s newest $80,000 program: Planning Problem Solving, and Decision Making (and “situation evaluation” – a section not in the title).  The design was very intense with a heavy case focus, a lot of interaction, and a maximum number of ten students. I opened the door of the classroom to meet my first ten students and was greeted by thirty state analysts. Some doofus with the authority saw the class size and reasoned that adding twenty students was more cost-effective.  Four days later, I crawled out without a failure (never acceptable) and, within a year, was living in New Mexico.  California has not fared well in many ways since that time.

Build a Class Around Your Problem Employee

Get a Grip.  Years ago, I delivered a conflict class to an organization hoping they could fix their problem employee by placing him in a class. Essentially, all the coworkers were there as window dressing; a behavior change of Arnold (one might call him “Ahhnold”) was the goal. Arnold sat at the back table for the entire session and grimaced.  Proud of his physique, he would exercise his forearms under the table with a wrist grip. A quick read of Arnold led me to deliver “straight up” training, ignoring the barely audible noise of the grip.  The nonverbals indicated he needed a long-term relationship with someone in a helping role.  He also needed to know that his cheap exerciser would soon deliver him to carpal tunnel damage and the inability to pick up a pencil.

Send a Soon-to-Retire Employee to Class

Shameful Sendoff.  Over the years, I have interacted with seminar participants who have revealed they are within a month or two of retirement.  I try my best to hide my reaction.  With tuitions as high as $5,000, this allocation of training funds is wrong.  To get a return on the investment, I would recommend that the trainee be at least three to four years away from retirement, unless it is skill training that is essential to completion of work.

Allow a Small Segment of Your Organization to Burn All Your Training Funds

No Goofy Training.  A Director of Training, David, was under intense pressure to spend the years’ training budget for a specific level to train one person.  The generals’ secretary wanted to get customer service training from a vendor that was famous for their outstanding customer service program.  David labelled it “goofy” and held the line.  He had an entire organization to serve.

Get a Trainer Who Can’t Handle an Unhappy Participant

Unhappy Camper.  I entered a classroom early and spoke with the Program Director, John, who told me we had a malcontent in the seminar, Dobie, who hated every presenter.  Rookie presenters usually avoid the malcontent and work the other side of the room.  I looked at Dobie’s nameplate and was familiar with his organization.  When he entered, I spoke briefly with him, asking him if he knew the people I had met while speaking at his national conference.  He smiled, and we discussed our mutual contacts.  In an opening example, I walked up to Dobie and gave a hypothetical in which Dobie and I had experienced a disagreement. At the first break, Dobie approached John and said, “This guy is pretty good.”  He simply needed a bit of attention…

Don’t Prepare for the Upcoming Training

Totally Unprepared.  I delivered three years of training on Team Facilitation and Team Tools to a huge organization under intense pressure.  Unprecedented, I had two Friday cancellations for classes to begin the following Monday, within two months!  I gained more insight into this location when USA Today printed a two-page story about the mayhem at this facility.  After that, I travelled to a “flagship” location on the west coast to train.  Arriving early, I walked into the training room.  No tables.  No chairs.  No flipcharts.  No materials.  Wondering if I was in the wrong place, I walked back into the hallway to see that someone had placed a sticky flipchart page adjacent to the door.  In a very pale pastel, it announced, “Team Faccion.”  In contrast, I trained later at a sister facility in New Orleans.  In my four decades of training, I have rarely experienced a facility as prepared on all fronts. The training coordinator was boo-coo. The Boy Scout motto?  Be prepared.

Use a Middleman to Acquire a Trainer

Not Worth a Dime.  Middlemen take a cut.  Sometimes they take an arm and a leg.  A prominent training vendor carves out 90% for overhead, leaving 10% for the trainer. I am relaxed about the opportunity for newcomers finding a path to break in. The question is, are you open to hiring a ten-percenter who owns a fresh diploma with wet ink?  The non-value-added aspect of the overhead is a topic for another day.  Also, piercing the veil to determine that your training dollars are well spent is problematic.  The only path may be more work for you as you seriously evaluate the presenter being offered.  It is important for you, though, to avoid being fleeced.  Some training-vendor emperors have no clothes. [email protected]

Charlie Manson? Oh, He’s Average.

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By Michael Vandergriff

Surfing the swampI trained Charlie Manson’s psychiatrist.

It was the California Medical Facility (CMF) in Vacaville, CA, the summer of 1980, and the topic was conflict management. Part of an external degree program in Criminal Justice, offered by California State University, I was the junior member of a three-instructor team, but the only staff member present for all sessions. Attendees were Correctional Officers (fighting the “guard” label), local California Highway Patrol (quite serious), and CMF psychiatric staff (crazy, but in a good way).

Before and after class, I’d approach Chris, Charlie’s shrink, and pepper him with questions about Manson. Chris told stories, and I was riveted. I learned that Charlie’s job was to sweep out the institution’s chapel! Picturing Manson in church on the end of a broom gave me mental images of his spontaneous combustion.

For political junkies, Charlie had a role to play in the national elections of 1980. The class was aware that Manson had a ring to place on one of three pegs and that, in his mind, his selection would determine the next President of the United States: Carter, Reagan, or the independent, Anderson. Student interest rose to a fever pitch, but their disappointment was palpable when Chris reported that Charlie had postponed his decision until after the end of the class. My guess was that several students wanted to know who to vote for.

My curiosity was blunted when Chris put everything in perspective. He said, “I appreciate your interest, young man, but the CMF is the repository of the most unstable inmates in the California State Prison System and, in this environment, Charlie is average.” Chris proceeded to share stories to convince me of his assertion.

My summer in Vacaville was a wonderful start for my nearly four-decade career spent training others. And the food at the now-closed Nut Tree, a famous landmark, was the perfect end for each teaching day.

I have only two missed opportunities since 1979. First, was the loss of my role as part of a teaching team for a class of inmates at Folsom Prison, to be held the year after CMF. The professor, Larry, about 5’7” and 150 pounds, had recruited two of us to assist. I was an ex-collegiate shot putter and my counterpart, Kerry, weighed 300 pounds and was a Kendo expert (Japanese stick fighting). It was clear we were involved for more than our instructional skills. I learned the nuances of prison subcultures, the harsh details of the California no-hostage policy, and the health benefits of a clip-on tie. All classes were cancelled, though, when an inmate stabbed a staffer with a very unhygienic, concealed blade.

The second lost opportunity was with an organization being “stood up” in Colorado Springs. I had delivered a conflict session at Ft. Carson, and my performance had caught the attention of someone in this fledgling organization. Our schedules did not match up and, by the time there was flexibility, their workload had exploded. The potential customer was the US Anti-Doping Agency (USADA); the organization that eventually brought down Lance Armstrong, the cycling champion.

USADA would have been a very special audience to me. In the early 1970’s, I was, pound-for-pound, one of the best non-steroidal shot putters around. This isn’t saying much, as I believe I was one of only a few non-steroidal shot putters around. It would have provided closure to speak to USADA, as a presenter who walked away from the dreams of his youth because he refused to “juice.” The residual imprint for me has been to watch sporting events wondering which combatant has the best chemist.

I’ve most enjoyed working with Native American groups (Lummi Tribe, Bellingham WA; Chippewa in Belcourt ND; Navajo in Shiprock NM). It has also been very rewarding to work with NASA (Kennedy Space Center FL). In hindsight, both NASA engineers and Native Americans had calm temperaments and function somewhat as families.

Missing out on teaching felons and anti-doping wizards is a regret, but not spending time with the fun-loving psychiatrists would have been a huge loss. They provided an early lesson in life: humor can be the best protection around tough characters and dismal situations. Training on the topic of conflict for decades, I remain upbeat. I guess it could be said that Manson’s psychiatrists helped me more than I helped them.

Michael Vandergriff portrait[To contact Michael, email [email protected] ]