Working as a trainer and coach has its
perks. One of them is the collection of stories I get to hear from my clients.
No matter what topic we are discussing, from “multilingual development of
immigrant children” to “user-centered usability processes” to “information and
communication communities”… all we really do beyond establishing some basic
guidelines is share stories.
It is my belief the moment someone starts
telling a story is the moment they become completely engaged. It is that “Did I
ever tell you about…” which presents endless possibilities for surprise,
delight, connection, and just maybe a change in perspective. A good
story can gives us insight into past events or into the storyteller’s soul.
Most of the stories I hear are told in
confidence, but the one I wish to tell now I have been given permission to pass
on.
A very settled and staid manager told it,
while we discussed different aspects about how to hire young professionals. We
started with the question, “If you were giving a job interview to your younger
self, would you hire him?” To which he answered, “Absolutely not!” This led to several twists and turns in
our conversation and somewhere along the way, he told this wonderful story:
Did I ever tell you about the night I spent
in a Glasgow prison? Well, my girlfriend and I decided to hitchhike around
Scotland for a few weeks during our school vacation. We started on the east
coast and made our way up north and then west to the Orkney Islands and finally
down to Glasgow.
We didn’t have much money to start with and
what little we had ran out at the city border. We wre completely broke. Our
backup plan was to take an overnight train to London, where my girlfriend’s
uncle lived and he said he would be willing to lend us enough money to ferry
back to Germany.
When we got to the train station we
discovered there was a train strike on. There we were without a cent to pay for
room and board.
At that time, I don’t know if it is still
so now, but if you were caught sleeping in the parks you would be arrested for public
loitering. Since the only option we had was to sleep in the park, I decided to
go to the police station and give ourselves up right up front. We walked into
the station and I told the officer at the front desk about our predicament and
asked him what we should do.
He talked on the telephone with his
superior and then made another few calls with other colleagues. He then asked
us whether we wouldn’t mind spending the night in jail. Their holding cells
were full, but the local prison had two cells we could use for the night.
Seemed good to me…
So, an officer transported us to the prison
in a police car where we spent a pleasant night in jail and he kindly came back
and picked us up the next day and brought us to the train station to catch our
train to London.
After note: The storyteller tried the same
thing a few years later during a trip to Norway. He and his (new) girlfriend
were turned away from the police station. They said they didn’t mind the
occasional person sleeping in the park.