Imagine this: your numbers have finally come up and all that stands between you and that millionaire lifestyle is one last day of training. How will it go? Byron Kalies has plays out his fantasy last training session.
On the week that one of my colleagues and favourite trainer moves on I started thinking about 'leaving dos' and trainers' leaving dos in particular. They have tended to be pretty raucous affairs involving copious amounts of alcohol, stories of training events past and a general air of nostalgia.
I guess it's the mutual understanding of the stress we are often under that tends to make trainers a little breed apart (although I dare say other professions would pretend they are special as well).
On one such occasion a few of us, fairly late in the evening, started thinking about winning the lottery, as you do, and what our final fantasy training event would be. Sad I know but we had had a few sherbets. Everyone had one or two favourite people they would invite.
For someone there was the character who gave them one word feedback after a really difficult two days. We could all identify three or four characters that started every sentence with "Ah, but in the real world?" I recalled some senior mangers that kept getting called away for 'urgent' meetings that turned out to coincide with pub opening hours figured quite prominently as well.
We fantasised about getting them all together in one room, locking the door and delivering the 'domestics':
"This is my last week of training. Yes I'll miss it. My last week of sitting crammed on a second class train from Liverpool to London working out how much money I can spend of my £21 per night on beer if I've got to buy two meals in London - or more likely go to the nearest Sainsbury's for a trainer's veggie special - three packets of crisps, a cheese pasty, some rolls, 10 economy processed cheese slices and a copy of the Evening Standard to see what's on TV. Then get back to my tiny, tiny room with barely enough space for a bed, a shower and nothing to watch except CNN or Eurosport. Then the remote control won't work but I know that you have to take the batteries out and warm them in your hand then replace them.
"I'll miss talking to a bunch of people who don't want to be here. Where the only information you'll listen intently to is the answer to "What time do we finish?" and will give me top marks if I give you an hour for lunch and let you go home half hour early. God I'll miss this!
"This week will be special though. This week is the week I run this course properly - you will have feedback like it's going out of fashion. I've got a four ring binder on each of you and we're got to work through it at my pace. The doors are locked. It's just me and you.
"Any questions?"
