Teambuilding
A segment of the challenge course at Travaasa Austin, the site of occasional corporate teambuilding events. September 2012. (And it's harder than it looks, folks.)
Recently I listened to a "This American Life" podcast in which Ira Glass profiled Cole Lindbergh, an employee of an amusement park in Kansas City called Worlds of Fun. Lindbergh manages the games department of the park: The area where you try to win ugly and not-very-plush toys for tossing rings onto necks of bottles or hitting boats with streams of water from rickety fake rifles—to use two examples from my distant theme-park memories.
If that job doesn't sound painful enough (and it doesn't to Lindbergh, who loves amusement parks so much that he dropped out of college to take the position), he's tasked with revving up high school and college students—his staff—to help ensure they bring enthusiasm and charm to their jobs. This guy holds contests on which game manager can get the most players, creates characters for and songs to sing in team meetings to get everyone excited about the day ahead, and produces homemade YouTube videos for training and teambuilding.
His employees love it. A couple staff members Glass interviewed said Lindbergh is the reason they come to work at the park each summer. He makes it fun.
This reminded me of a boyfriend whose college marching band had band-only pep rallies where the band leaders put on skits for the group to get everyone feeling special, and proud, and charged about the football games. The band leaders had nicknames and wore decorated hats that designated them the “Spirit Team.” And everyone thought it fantastic.
Really?
Imagining myself in either scenario is painful—and not just because I'm too reserved to be a carnival barker and I have no musical ability for band membership.
This worries me.
I love the people I get to work with—and that's not blowing smoke. They're super sharp and amazing. I like to spend time with them and to talk to them. I want everyone to feel part of a team, excited about the company, and aware of where we're going. Yet I struggle with the contrived-ness of these programmed events and activities. And I don't respond to rah-rah stuff, so it's difficult for me to sincerely create and disseminate it.
Yet others do respond to these activities and events. People seek them. They make people happy. And I want my teammates to be happy, and to enjoy working at the company, and to enjoy working with me. I don't want to fail them.
What can I do?
How do I make pep talks fun and not horrid? (No one wants to be the boss in a real-life version of "The Office.") When it comes to events and team meetings, is there a way to make them truly enjoyable and valuable—to make them something people look forward to and actually gain from?
And how do I get myself to buy into these activities, given that without my buy-in, it will be hard to seem genuine in my message?
Ideas, anyone?