I Just Play One on TV

After a recent round of staff cutbacks, we've had to rethink the way in which we deal with putting massive quantities of content on our website in something that resembles a timely manner. I have created some processes for reporting and tracking requests, which have resulted in a decent amount of success, but the third leg of our three-legged stool is training existing staff to make basic content updates to their sections of the site themselves. (What is the first leg? Why, my incredibly dedicated but extremely overallocated staff.)

So, in order for this process to work, the staff has to be trained in working with our content management system. And, with no training money, it is up to me to step up and train said staff. So, over the past week, I've managed to conduct two webinar-based training sessions for remote staff and two in-person trainings for local staff (I did pawn off one of the training sessions on my associate because I had a conflicting work session).

Training sessions are a challenge. You're on stage for two hours, talking constantly, addressing questions on the fly, trying to keep people awake and amused, striking a balance between hands-on and demo opportunities, and all the while trying to impart useful information that people may possibly remember one-tenth of the following day. In general, I seem to do well on all of the above, but it is an exhausting process that causes virtual brain death for the remaining hours of the day. Today, I ran two training sessions, put together my FY10 budget numbers, and ran through our resolved tickets to determine which ones could be closed. So, why do I feel like I haven't accomplished anything today?

Going back to the original premise of the blog post, I have a series of webinar-based trainings on tap over the next couple of weeks, as well as a couple of make-up sessions for staff who couldn't make it to the recent trainings. But, frankly, I'm hoping that I'm nearing the end of my teaching days so I can go back to strategy and content and development.

Really. Not even one bit.

...but shouldn't that last play at least have been reviewed? Looked like a forward pass to me.

All in all, it was a great game to watch.

I like to entertain. One of the reasons we went through the painful and expensive process that is a home remodel was so that we could better accommodate guests during our parties. We have this fantastic dining room now that is perfect for small dinner parties...of which we've had exactly zero in the two years since we've remodeled.

Much of our entertaining tends to revolve around sporting events: Louisville basketball and football games, the Kentucky Derby, the Super Bowl. For a while it was because we were one of the few people to have a 50-inch high def flat screen TV and satellite dish. Today, that's probably known as a starter set. But people still humor us and come over for sporting events because I like to provide a lot of food, and also because we have the beer fridge (we even have a sign that points to it, so that later in the evening people can find their way there).

Back in the days before a child happened on the scene, I used to insist that I cook all the food for each party. It didn't seem right to foist pre-prepared crap on our guests; or so I thought. Plus, it was a way to show off one of the few skills in which I'm pretty confident -- my cooking skills. Well, it turns out that all my fantasies of a perfectly prepared set of dishes laid out on the table when guests arrive are just that -- fantasies. While I'm good at the cooking thing, I'm terrible at the timing thing, so I invariably would spend most of the party in the kitchen cooking like crazy while the guests mingled and watched whatever sporting event we happened to be featuring.

Little by little, I have rid myself of that neurosis. First, I began outsourcing the appetizers and dips, then the desserts. Now I pretty much just make the main dish, and let Trader Joes or Costco or Harris Teeter or Whole Foods pick up my slack. The pinnacle was our Derby party last year -- I made the requisite Derby Pie, but had the rest "catered" by Whole Foods. I received so many compliments on how fantastic and beautiful the spread was, and how I must have spent so much time slaving over it, I realized that even when presented on cheap plastic trays, guests don't really notice whether or not things are home-cooked.

So today we are having a small group of neighbors over to watch the big game. I'm trying out a new recipe for slow-cooked smoky chili. But the rest of the spread? Thank goodness for Costco.