Part 4 of a response to a suggestion for topics to blog about made by Ingrid Koehler of Local Government Improvement and Development. It follows the separate topics dealt with in Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.
Four random but related frustrations of dealing with and working in the public sector in the UK that should stop. What are yours?
How we love it. It’s what managers thrive on. That knackered-at-the-end-of-the-day feeling, the slump into the armchair, the glass of something alcoholic to relax. The question from the partner, “How was today, dear?” “God,” you say, “it was hell. Problems just came at me from left right and centre. But do you know what? I ran around all day like an idiot and by the time I left I’d sorted them all.” I ran around all day like an idiot. You certainly did my man (it usually is a male). Like an idiot.
If it’s firefighting you want take a lesson from the fire and rescue service. Devote your energy to fire prevention, to making sure problems don’t happen, not letting them happen and then fighting them.
Pouring cold water on new ideas
In my neck of the woods, more thoughtful Scots say it’s the bane of their country.
In central Scotland, where my partner hails from, it finds expression in the cliché “Aye, I kennt his faither” trans. “I knew his father. He was just a miner/postman/labourer. How dare the son get above his station in life by showing some ambition and trying to improve himself”.
I think it’s a UK-wide disease. Not just the public sector (although that for sure) but the rest of the economy and society more generally.
For every entrepreneur (traditional, social or public sector) there are 10 naysayers who’ll tell you why you can’t do it. Why it won’t work. They should check out the great systems thinker Russell Ackoff who has some pertinent quotes on the subject.
The litmus test at work for me is the answer to the question How do you get leave approved round here? If the answer’s
- get your leave form out
- write in the days you want off
- do the sum to show how many days you’ll have left this year
- initial your request
- pass it to the boss’s secretary
- she passes it to the boss
- your boss initials the form and passes it back to the secretary
- the secretary updates the team leave chart on the wall behind her desk and passes the form back to you
- file your form back where it lives (This is important – in organisations like this your ability to request leave may be questioned if you lose the form – you see, you may be cheating)
- update your paper diary
you are in bureaucracy hell. Get out!
Getting small things wrong – because small things add up to big things
Two current public sector examples from my private life, featuring my second and third daughters (D2 and D3).
D2 was due to appear recently as a witness in a court case. She travelled back from uni to stay overnight and attend court. On arrival at court and after checking (“It’s not on today”) an official discovered the case had been deferred to autumn, over a year after the alleged minor offence she witnessed.
No one had told the witnesses but they said she could claim expenses. They mailed her a claim form. She claimed travel and subsistence. Three/four weeks later a cheque arrived for travel costs only. No subsistence and no explanation. Current state of play – pondering whether it’s worth the hassle of getting the subsistence.
COST TO THE PUBLIC PURSE
- Staff time at court to establish case deferred and when to – 10/15 minutes
- Cost of sending out claim form, processing returned claim, raising and posting cheque – £50? (some considerable time ago I remember reading the real cost of even a standard letter cost a company about £10)
- Potential cost of round 2 (the subsistence element of the claim) – another £50?
- Wasted cost of travel and subsistence (which will have to be claimed again in autumn) – c. £20
- Add in similar costs for other witnesses in the case.
D3, living in Scotland, may attend a university outwith Scotland next year. The Scottish Government will give a loan for fees incurred elsewhere in EU. D3 finds web site to establish ground rules. There’s a note that the deadline for applications has passed but the online form still works so nothing ventured nothing gained she completes the form and presses the Send button. The completed form is accepted. Two weeks later a snail mail letter arrives saying “Sorry. Form on web site was last year’s. This year’s process isn’t opened yet.”
COST TO THE PUBLIC PURSE
- Staff time to intercept the mistakenly submitted application and generate a presumably standard response to it – 15/20 minutes?
- Cost of sending letter – £10+? (see above)
- Multiplied by the number of times potential students make the same mistake per year – 10? 100? 1000?