Last of the Dinosaurs

I remember the exact time and date that it happened, when I first realized that I had somehow become the “Last of the Dinosaurs.” It was on my very first day of what would turn out to be my final project with my former company. (Before I was downsized during the latest corporate attempt to achieve “right-sizing.”)  This project was perfect and it was meant to be the culmination of everything I had worked so hard to achieve during my entire training career. I had the right project and was in on it from the start. I could select my own team and had a hand in the creation of the training project plan. I could use the ADDIE model from the very beginning, in fact, it was detailed perfectly, complete with shiny diagrams, in the front of project plan. The client was supportive, anxious to begin and I had access to every member of their team, full access, with no limitations.  In a nutshell, it was the ideal set-up for a training professional. All of the pieces for a successful training implementation were in place. I had waited and hoped for this opportunity to come along my entire training career….and finally, here it was. I was the training program manager for the entire project and had all of the tools, equipment and soon..the people, to make it happen, just like in the textbooks.And then, came that moment of realization that I was, in fact, the last of the dinosaurs in my company. There were no other trainers practicing my craft anywhere in the organization. Here is how that happened and what I really mean by stating that I was the genetic end point for my very unique species of dinosaur.

I have been trained, hold a masters degree in this discipline, in fact, in the very wonderful field of instructional system design. Specifically, the field of adult learning instructional design. My training and indeed, my entire professional career have been devoted to the study, design, implementation and evaluation of training programs designed to make adult employees better at what they do on the job. It is a wonderful field, filled with very talented, hard-working and devoted practitioners of the art of training program design and I have been a proud member since 1980, when I first realized that it was indeed a worthy field, worthy of my study and devotion. Over the years, I have used the principles of ADDIE, (Analysis, Design, Development, Implementation and Evaluation) to develop many outstanding performance-based training programs for dozens of companies and tens of thousands of employees, with great and, of course, measurable results. It has been a  marvelous way to earn a living and I would not change any of the myriad of experiences I have encountered over the years. And then, one day, I came crashing down to reality. Perhaps it happened that exact same way to the last of the dinosaurs when he or she realized that the large object last seen streaking across the sky had quickly wiped out the entire species and now, with a sudden pang of realization crashing over that unfortunate specimen, the time had come to say “goodbye.” Nice ride, great trip, “Turn out the lights, cue Willie and sing together,”The party’s over.”

That unfortunate realization rushed over me on the first Monday of my first day on the wonderful project I was fortunate enough to now lead, two days before I was to meet with our entire project team, including the client and detail exactly how I was going to implement my proposed training solution as part of the overall project plan. Around 10am, while reviewing my training project plan, I felt the need to gain some validation for my process and I needed to contact a colleague in my company to review my ideas, offer feedback and startling insights, before I faced the rest of my project team in two short days. I went to my rolodex, (in retrospect that might have been the first indication I was nearing the end of the genetic line,) and peered into my training team contact list. First name, gone, and retired. Second name, let go in the last round of layoffs, third name, no longer in the training profession, now building houses for a charitable organization, fourth name, deceased, way too soon, fifth name, well, you get the picture. I inspected each and every name on that list, compiled diligently over the course of a 40 year training career and could discover no one, literally not one soul, who I could contact right now and discuss my training approach. on that cloudy October day. I was completely and utterly on my own. Sure, I had former trainers who I could reach out to, who were still  “in the business.” as they say. All of them however, were now either in very specialized fields, like instructional design, or LMS management and certainly would not want to speak to a former colleague, now adrift in a vast ocean without even a life-preserver, or simply “former trainers,” now toiling in other professions. Where had they all gone, indeed, where had all the time gone and why was this very peculiar dinosaur not among them?

I suspect that the lonely dinosaur, on the brink of extinction eons ago, felt this very same way. One day we were all frolicking together, holding meetings among our teams, reaping the fruits of our labors, enjoying meals together on an expense account and living life, never truly expecting that it would all one day, come to a screeching halt.  Yet, just as that ancient reptile must have also realized, life must go on… for as long as it can, until the door finally shuts and the species, once so vast in number, disappears from the face of the earth; destined to be studied and dissected by scientists, sometime in the future, who most certainly will wonder why that species did not realize its time was nearing the end and why it did not act to preserve the species? I ponder those very same questions, now, as I carefully place my tired, worn-out and now utterly useless rolodex back in the cardboard box, along with the last remnants of my species, once so huge in number and now, like the last smoldering embers of the very last fire of the season, slowly drifting upward and away, questioning where it all went and how bright that fire once was; when we were all young, impressionable and just hoping for that one perfect project to come our way. One last chance to show the world just how valuable we really were, when our world, that moment is time was alive and thriving. As Willie wrote, “It seems all good things must end.” Yes, Willie, they must. I just wish someone had whispered in my ear that the band was tuning up to play their final number and I should be ready to turn out the lights. “Bye bye dinosaurs,” you had a good run, a very good run, indeed.