Cindy

Droog

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September 29, 2008

Ban the Lunch and Learn, Please

I�ve done a lot of things on my lunch hour.

Nearly every single day, I work through it, so I can pick my kids up as soon as possible and get them home for dinner and family time. About once every three weeks, I manage to meet a friend or a former colleague, just to keep up on a miniscule amount of personal and professional scoop.

But lately, I�ve been invited to a strangely large number of the dreaded of all noontime activities: The Lunch and Learn.

Where exactly do I start when it comes to boycotting this corporate juggernaut, which requires such devotion to one�s career and such propensity for utter boredom?

First, there�s the name. Old. Tired. If I was invited to just one of these that somebody dared to call �Eat and Educate� instead, or even �Masticate and Master,� I�d probably go, just to show my support of their creativity.

Instead, like most people I know, I �Chew and Do.� Do the grocery shopping. Do the get-the-gift-for-the-friend�s-daughter�s-birthday-party thing. Do the stop at daycare. Do the nap in my car. (Only when I was pregnant, I swear.)

Second, there�s the expectations. I once had a client who hosted Lunch �n Learns (the �n makes the event so much cooler than the �and� would), and every month, would wonder why we couldn�t get any journalists to come and sit through it, and why on earth the media wouldn�t publicize it beforehand.

Of course, the response, �If you can�t get people there, how do you expect me to get the media there?� never worked. Instead, I�d find an angle, talk to a different journalist than last time, and once in every 10 or 12 months, luck out with a slow news day or a green reporter who actually did want to learn about off-site network backup programs.

The hosts of every Lunch and Learn I�ve ever been to always start their speeches out the same way, with �We�re going to wait a few more minutes for the rest of the guests to arrive.� One guy trickles in 10 minutes later, but you can see by the looks on their faces that 10 to who-know-how-many-more were expected.

So, at 12:10 p.m., the next line is usually something to the effect of:

�Everybody go ahead and move up to the front. Just one or two more rows. We�ve got more room than expected (shocker). Don�t be shy. We�re all friends here (awkward laughter).�

I do prefer the Lunch and Learns when no icebreaker ensues. After all, one uncomfortable introduction is enough for me during one lunch hour.

Finally, there�s the �learning� part. Maybe I�m not the sharpest crayon in the box, but it typically takes me longer than an hour to learn something. In college, I preferred once-a-week night classes, as I found my professors and fellow students just starting to warm up after the first hour. And actually learning from each other, fostering dialogue, and problem-solving.

The Lunch and Learn leaves no room for that. Although at one particularly successful one, I did learn how to turn on my Blackberry. After that, the instructors lost me, which I blame on all the pretty graphics and photo-taking features.

Does anyone really, truly enjoy and find value in the Lunch and Learn? As for me, I�d rather lunch and lactate, and trust me � that is torture. Often, when I think back on the many weeks in a row in which I did do that after returning from maternity leave, it was actually more enjoyable than a Lunch and Learn.

So, once corporate America solves the banking crisis, ends internal presentations and bans Power Point software, I can only hope that the Lunch and Learn is next on their list!

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