Hell has been relocated!

You should be automatically redirected in 6 seconds. If not, visit
and update your bookmarks.

Thursday, 27 August 2009

The dreams of youth

This weekend is a holiday weekend in the UK and I’ll be returning home to the place where I grew up. It’s remiss of me that I haven’t been back to the fold for a year and it started me thinking about the hopes and dreams I had as a child

Kid: Mum, Dad. We’ve been talking at school about jobs and I made a choice
Mum: Ohh really son? What is it?
Kid: I know what I want to be when I’m a big boy!
Dad: Hey, good man. Come on little fella, tell me what it is? Spaceman? Racing Driver? Footballer?
Mum:…..Doctor, Lawyer?
Kid: smugly Nope. I want to be……………..an HR Director!
Fish (in tank on the side): ………………………………..
Mum: Ohh my God, what will the neighbours say………
Dad:………,.ok little man……its good you’re exploring options…..options are good, we all need to look and think and rule out the completely f***ing stupid, but I don’t think you need to rush into anything, make any decisions, you’ve got the whole life ahead of you…….let's not be rash………
Mum: What will the family say……..
Dad:….so tell me……..what….I mean how….I mean WHY?
Kid: Well I like dreaming up ideas and special worlds and places that only I can understand and everyone else says are just silly……..
Mum: What will the kids in the park say………
Dad: Will you shut up! Uhuh go on son…..
Kid: I like make believe, pretending I’m a big strong, important and powerful man who everyone likes and wants to be friends with….....
Dad: Yup
Kid: I like painting by numbers, colouring in and I always have the most-tidiest pencil case in all of the school………
Kid: And I’m rubbish at maths unless I use my fingers and toes…….
Mum: I’m leaving town……………
Kid: So the teacher said it was the absolute, most perfect job she could think of in the whole wide world for me…….
Dad: ….right…..umm….be there’s no rush, there are lots of good jobs out there, undertaker……taxidermist…….pest controller…….no need to jump right in and decide now
Mum: I’m feeling faint……
Kid: But Dad, I leave Uni in the summer, what am I going to do then?
Mum: ***thud***

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Pride comes before........

Its been 51 weeks this week since I started at the madhouse. 51 weeks.

I'm proud that during that time I can hand on heart say that I have changed the way in which HR is perceived. We're not perfect. Not perfect by any means, but people are starting to get what I am saying. They are starting to understand the value of a good, proactive, strategic HR function.

This morning was a high point.

For three hours I was with the Deputy CEO, the Comms Director and the Strategy Director. We were talking about how we drive the strategic agenda forward, how we focus the Board on thinking strategically and not tactically, we were debating the key issues that we saw for the business and our industry in the next five years. We were making a difference.

And this was a meeting that I engineered. It was never going to happen and I made it happen. We were placing HR at the centre of the business agenda and facilitating and driving change.

It was a high point. And I returned to the office on a high.


"HRD. Its FD. Just want to let you know that Facilities Director (little FD - fD) came to see me, now shes back from maternity leave, about the move from reporting to me to reporting to you. Not happy. Not happy at all. She says it will look like a backward step in the external market and she's worried that Facilities won't be taken as seriously anymore now its reporting into HR. Just wanted to let you know."


I'm not ashamed to tell you that the air went blue. But then, "hey" I thought. What the hell. When did I ever worry about what the FD thought! And certainly not the fD!!

Just goes to show, you. You are as other people see you.

There is work yet to be done...........

Friday, 21 August 2009

Vive la difference

I’m back from the deepest darkest recesses of our nearest neighbour where I have been sojourning for the last few weeks.

There are many reasons that I love France and love the French. Wine is not far from the top of the list and cheese definitely a contender…and after this summer the fact that the have a sun in the sky is a plus too. Sure they may struggle in the backbone department at times but given the weather, the wine and the countryside I too could easily jump into the “cheese eating surrender monkey” camp.

“You want my country? Sure! You mess with my cheese and wine, I kill you!”

But the real reason that I like the French is their complete inability to follow any rule of law….

If a swimming pool says that the slide is for over 11 year olds only, you’ll most likely see a portly hirsute French guy chomping on a piece of Brie whilst propelling his newly born down the slide head first on the remains of a rubber ring and imploring him to stop wailing and have some fun.

If you’re on a road limited to 110kph you’ll be overtaken by some guy in a 12 year old 2CV whilst shaving and brushing his teeth and listening to Johnny Halliday.

And of course if it says don’t smoke….well that’s just an invitation to unfurl a plume of smoke from brands of cigarettes that in other parts of the world has been designated as WMDs.

Its no surprise of course to find that this love of all things anti establishment also extends to the workplace where our French friends think nothing of walking out, blockading, burning down their place of work and even taking their bosses hostage. If you don’t believe me, do a quick search on Google for “protester comme une grenouille” (!)

So from today on I’m taking a leaf out of the tobacco pouch of my Gallic cousins and will deliberately flout a rule or law every day for a week………..Vive la Revolution!

Right after I’ve filled out these forms that are cloging up my in tray…….

Monday, 3 August 2009

The HRD is now leaving the building

In the morning I wake up. I shave, I shower. I put on a nice suit and a nice shirt made to my size. I wear cuff links that match and cologne that I'm given.

My hair is cropped, my skin soft.

I travel to work on the 6.52 train with my Blackberry and my iPod. I catch the tube.

I go to my corner office where I have a lovely view of London. An Assistant. Respect (most of the time). A good career. A great career.

I make decisions, I sit in meetings. I influence. I lead.

On Wednesday morning at 11.20 I am getting on a plane. A plane to Nimes.

For the following two weeks I will be running in the hills of the Ardeche. I will be hiking up the biggest, swimming down the rivers, kayaking the white water.

I will be wearing shorts and t-shirts, a rucksack with my gear. I won't have shaved, I will smell like a baboon's underpants. I'll be sun burnt and weathered. I'll be battered and bruised.

For two weeks, I will be me. The person that I really am.

I'll be back though. You can count on that.

The HRD is now leaving the building.