The Scapegoat

There is a saying: “to err is human; to forgive, divine”.

Most of us are not divine, hence the reason why there is not a lot of forgiveness in the world.

A manager I worked for quite a few years ago, used to insist that the work environment was “not a blame culture”.

But it is, and it always will be.

I actually used that quote to the manager in question.

She said “It’s YOUR fault, Dave.”

And I said “Yes – it is. I made a mistake. To err is human; to forgive, divine. So if you forgive me, that makes you a Goddess!”

I think she thought I was flirting with her (I probably was – apparently I do this quite a lot: read about it here ).

Make a mistake and you will be pounced upon and blamed. You will be a scapegoat, depending, of course, on the nature of the mistake.

I have watched this happen repeatedly within the working environment for all of my working life and the hypocrisy and arrogance that walks hand in hand with finding a scapegoat is breathtakingly obvious to me – yet, unbelievably, missed by a lot of people.

We see it every day in the news and in life.

People are unwilling to admit to making mistakes.

Let me start a trend here:

I make mistakes.

I have always made mistakes.

I will continue to make mistakes.

Why?

It is not because I am crap at everything I do.

It is not because I am a useless good-for-nothing buffoon.

It is not because I am stupid.

It is not because I am careless.

It is because I am a human being.

Everybody makes mistakes, even those who claim not to make mistakes and see themselves as perfect human beings.

These people are not perfect – they are arrogant and deluded.

We strive for perfection these days. When I was a young man, we seemed to be able to cope with people failing at something. These days it is totally different – particularly in business.

I’ve joked about the overuse of the word “excellence” before (read about it here ) but the essence of that post is serious.

We have to appear to be flawless in every aspect of our work, these days. Whatever you do, it has to be perfect. If something goes wrong then the hunt begins; the hunt for the scapegoat.

I’ve seen this many times and not just in my line of business. The best example is “The Apprentice” where the hunt for scapegoat is played out in front of an audience who love the smell of blood. The difference here is that the victims will never, ever admit to the so-called mistake that led to failure.

Why? Because they think they are perfect; they think that they are divine.

They are not – they are human, with all of the flaws that entails. This clip sums up exactly what I mean:



It illustrates how people claim to be better than they are and use the term “idiot” when referring to mistakes that they themselves invariably make.

By this standard, I am an idiot.

But I know different – I am human.

I make mistakes.

Everybody does, including you, dear reader. Sorry for that bombshell – but it’s true.

Ultimately, the global culture now seems to be driven by this striving for excellence and if you cannot convince people that you truly are excellent then you are made a scapegoat and seen as a failure.

I think that it is about time things changed.

If people admit, to me, that they made a mistake I am much more likely to think better of them than if they deny it or blame it on somebody else.

Ultimately, this is why I like “The Apprentice” because it takes a bunch of people who think that they are excellent, think that they never make mistakes and are exposed as being just as flawed as the rest of us mere mortals.

What I will say is this; if you make mistakes, and admit them, then you are, in my view, a much better person than somebody who will sit there and watch others take the blame for their mistakes.

Sadly, I don’t have anybody to blame for this blog post and if there are mistakes in it then they are all my fault.

But of course their wil bee no missteaks at hall. Why? Becos I am NOT youman – I am deevine.

Or maybe I'm just a scapegoat.

The North South Divide

Wednesday night is a good night to rant at the moment.

Why?

We are well into the new series of The Apprentice, a reality show that pits the (supposedly) greatest young entrepreneurs of Britain with Alan Sugar, aka Sir Alan Sugar, aka Lord Sugar.

It seems like he gains a new title every time they film a new series. What next? King Alan the First?

Anyway, I digress. I used to rant about Alan Sugar, the founder of Amstrad but I have warmed to him over the years. He is famous now for being Britain’s most belligerent boss, a man who is almost impossible to please and who does not suffers fools at all.

The Apprentice is compelling viewing. Lord Sugar takes a handful of young arseholes and puts them through a terrible ordeal with the dubious prize of being able to work for him for a six figure salary.

The candidates are all young and have one thing in common: their arrogance is breath-taking.

I watch the show hurling abuse at how cocky these fools are. They claim to be expert sales people, fantastic marketing gurus who will make loads of money for Lord Sugar. Yet most of them are absolute idiots who have a massive ego but little else.

And Lord Sugar delights in exposing them and shooting them down in flames – and he delights me too.

A week or two ago, one contestant made me reach a new level of anger when watching the show. To my amazement, Mrs PM also let rip and our TV almost buckled under the assault from the two of us.

Lord Sugar sent the candidates from London up to the Trafford Centre in Manchester to sell the latest London fashions to Mancunians. I was already irritated by the phrase latest London fashions when one of the candidates said something that enraged the two of us.

“Manchester is two years behind London.”

“TWO YEARS BEHIND LONDON?” I yelled.

“THE CHEEKY BUGGER!” screamed Mrs PM.

Can you believe that?

To be honest, I wasn’t surprised at this sweeping and wholly inaccurate slur on my adopted city. A few people in the South of England pour scorn on the North.

When I say “South” I really mean “Greater London” because in reality quite a few people of that city and the surrounding towns look down on Northerners. I am not joking when I say that there are some from the London area who don’t actually know anything about life north of Watford.

Many years ago, I was visiting friends in London and we found ourselves in a night club near Camden Town. At the end of the evening, a young woman asked me where I was from. The conversation went something like this:

Southern Belle: So where are you from?

Plastic Mancunian: Manchester.

Southern Belle: Manchester? Where’s that then?

Plastic Mancunian: You are joking, right?

Southern Belle: No. Whereabouts in London is Manchester?

Plastic Mancunian: It’s not in London. Its 250 miles away.

Southern Belle: Oh! Are you getting home in a taxi?

I swear I am not making that up. I have had similar conversations with people who have said, quite seriously:

“Manchester? That’s north of Watford innit? Why would anybody live north of Watford?”

It makes you feel like punching them.

It is this perception of the North that really annoys me. I love London as a city but some of its residents are bizarrely arrogant. When questioned about life north of Watford they consider us all to wear cloth caps, breed whippets and pigeons and say things like:

“OOOH ‘ECK!”

“EEH BAR GUM!!”

“ECKY THUMP!!”

Let me aim this post at that minority of Southerners and just say this.

We are not stupid.

We are not two years behind London.

We are friendly.

We do not say “ECKY THUMP!”

I could go on. I could dismiss everything that these people think but it is not worth it. Some of them would never travel out of earshot of Bow Bells – unless they were to move into the Home Counties of course.

Actually, to be honest, I suffer at the hands of both Northerners and Southerners.

I was born in Walsall, near Birmingham, i.e. I am from the Midlands. I am regarded as a pariah by both Northerners and Southerners. Northerners call me a Southern Jessie. Southerners call me a Northern Arse.

I reckon now, in the North, I have been accepted because I have lived in Manchester for longer than I lived in the Midlands and these days I even count myself as a Northerner.

And to any Southerners who feel that travelling North of Watford is like stepping back into the Stone Age, I think you should pay us a visit. We might not be able to understand what you say but we are a friendly bunch and we do have interpreters.

I am joking of course. The regional accents in England can change dramatically within a few miles. Sometimes though, it can be difficult to understand the cockney accent or even the Greater London accent.

I remember meeting a lad at university who was from the south of England. I understood everything he said until he told me where he was from.

“EMOO” he said.

“Where?”

“EMOO! You know. EMOO EMSTID!”

“Where? Spell it!”

“H-E-M-E-L H-E-M-P-S-T-E-A-D!”

“OH! Hemel Hempstead!”

“That’s what I said. Where are you from?”

“WORSU.”

“Where?”

“WORSU?”

“Warsaw? Are you Polish?”

“No! W-A-L-S-A-L-L!”

So my accent in those days was just as difficult to understand.

I will finish off by saying that I actually like cockneys and Southerners but I will add that if you are a Southerner reading this who thinks that Northerners are Neanderthals who worry sheep then think again. The North of England is beautiful – so is the Midlands.

And there IS life outside London and particularly north of Watford.

It most certainly is not “GRIM OOP NORTH!!”.

We do not have “RAINBOWS IN BLACK AND WHITE!”

I will leave you with an ode to Southerners everywhere:

Alexei Sayle’s “'Ullo John! Gotta New Motor!”

We don’t think all Southerners are like that!

Who Stole My Excellence?

This was going to be an excellent post – but I’ve mislaid my excellence.

I might have left it at work to be fair; I usually take it with me and leave my “will to live” and “joie de vivre” at home.

I certainly miss my excellence, so this, unfortunately, is going to be useless post.

What do you mean “tell us something we don’t know”?

Every day I am told that I need to be excellent; I need to excel at absolutely everything in my life from the moment my crusty eyes open in the morning until they close again at night. I probably have to be excellent while I’m asleep too.

Job adverts are absolutely full of demands to be excellent:

You will be an excellent leader, excelling at everything you attempt. You will be an excellent people person with excellent motivation skills that will make everybody in the whole wide world love you (even those who have not had the good fortune to meet you).

You excellence will be so tangible that people will want to have sex with you as soon as they lay eyes on you. They want to give you all of their money.

Your excellence will be excellent too.

Bookshops are full of self help guides that promote excellence:

In Search of Excellence


Racing Towards Excellence


In Pursuit of Excellence


The Excellence of Sweeping the Street


The Essence of Excellence


Excellence II: The Joy of Excellence


Recruiting Excellence


Eating Excellence


Finding Excellence in Pets


Optimising Your Excellence


What to Do If You Lose Your Excellence


Unleashing Excellence


The Excellence System


The Excellence of Excellence


How to be Excellent Even When You Are Not Being Excellent


Excellence for Idiots


Take Your Excellence Out For a Meal, Wine It, Dine It, Marry it and Have Baby Excellence.


Actually, I made some of those up but hopefully you get my drift. Business these days seems obsessed with the pursuit of excellence and successful bosses love to talk themselves up. Interviews for some of these lofty positions must be an absolute hoot to watch, with these people stepping into a weird realm where they are the master of all they survey. A game of buzzword bingo is very interesting on such occasions.

If you have seen the Apprentice you will know exactly what I mean.

In the US, Donald Trump sits there in complete silence as the candidates argue amongst themselves, stabbing each other in the back and telling lies about each other and themselves in order to convince him that they are excellent and their competitors are useless – even though their combined effort was a total disaster.

MR TRUMP: Why shouldn’t I fire you?

VICTIM 1: I did an excellent job because I am excellent. I am an excellent salesman and, Mr Trump, I will be an excellent apprentice and I will excel at excellence in every aspect of my job. You need me, Mr Trump, because I am excellent.

MR TRUMP: And why shouldn’t I fire you?

VICTIM 2: Because my so-called colleague is a lying snivelling wreck who did a BAD job. It was entirely his fault that we lost you $10,000. It was his idea to dress the elephant in a tutu. He is not excellent; he is mediocre at best. I am excellence personified; I live and breath excellence; I dream excellence; I think excellence; I even piss excellence. I pray to the God of excellence and he answers me saying “You are so excellent that I will give you an excellent position at my right hand.” Mr Trump, sack this low life mediocre muppet. I am so driven that I break the speed of light with every move. You want 21st century Mr Trump? I will give you 22nd, 23rd and 24th centuries. You want one hundred percent? I will give you one million percent and I will still be cruising. I will hyperdrive YOUR productivity into the next decade using my excellence. You will become EVEN RICHER – so RICH that New York will be renamed NEW TRUMP! And it will ALL be down to my excellence.

MR TRUMP: You both did a BAD job. You’re both fired.

This is one of my favourite ever moments from the Apprentice USA:



See what happens when you lose your excellence?

In the UK, we have Sir Alan Sugar (or should I say Lord Sugar) who is different from Donald Trump but much funnier and much more abrasive in my opinion at least.

Call me cruel but I simply love to watch the faces of these egotistical muppets crumble when they realise that they, too, have lost their excellence at a crucial moment. Not that I could do any better myself of course.

One woman on the show claimed to be "the best salesperson in Europe". She was fired - for not selling anything.

Here is Sir Alan Sugar in action:



Anyway, my point is that in business, the word “excellence” has become one of the most prodigious business buzzwords in the history of business bullshit. The word “excellence” and its derivatives crop up fairly regularly in newspapers and on the TV and are usually surrounded by other similar buzzwords that are properties of a super human being but hardly the kind of thing that every single person can call upon to assist themselves in their everyday life and career.

Job adverts are full of this kind of horseshit whether you are after the top job as chairman of a multimillion dollar company or the manager of a small retail outlet. We are expected to strive for excellence even if we work as a petrol pump attendant.

You are expected to take your excellence to the interview and allow it to answer difficult questions on your behalf; take your buzzword bingo card, your bullshit generator and your excellence to a job interview and you should prevail.

INTERVIEWER: Tell me about yourself.

CANDIDATE: I am the best of the best of the best. I have my excellence with me on a leash at all times and it casts aside all doubts and makes me the perfect person for this job. My mind is a centre of excellence. I am the greatest. You will never, ever employ a better car park attendant in your life.

Personally I seek excellence in everything I do; it is my constant companion in life.

In the morning I wake up, leap out of bed and throw myself into the shower washing my aging, bloated body and mad hair with pure brilliance.

My crazy hair is tamed with excellence and I actually look slightly human as I eat my excellent breakfast.

At work, colleagues tell me how wonderful I am and how I am the best at my job – that’s excellence for you.

I arrive home after work and eat an excellent evening meal, while watching excellent TV programmes before going to bed to read an excellent book.

I even have excellent dreams full of monsters, interstellar battles, tales of love and adventure with beguiling women falling at my excellent feet.

Of course I am lying through my keyboard. I struggle through the day fighting fires and struggling to extricate myself from the bureaucratic red tape that throttles business and technology today. It is the same everywhere.

Even with all the technology we have in the world it is sometimes difficult to find your excellence in paperwork.

Furthermore, with everybody striving for and supposedly achieving excellence, I often wonder why the world seems to have problems.

You only have to read the news to see that excellence appears to have taken a leaf out of Superman’s book and gone for a sabbatical to Krypton. Perhaps my excellence has gone there too.

Anyway, if I find my excellence I will let you know. Perhaps I will make an excellent choice when I visit the newsagent to buy my lottery ticket this weekend.

That would be excellent.