CIRA’s Comedy of Errors

Last night’s special meeting for members of CIRA, the Canadian agency for dot-ca domain registration, was a painful demonstration of how NOT to get things done. The first mistake was miscalculating the response to a promise of a free 128MB memory key for those showing up in person. They should have known how greedy we are for tech swag. The registration table was staffed by a handful of harried people who repeatedly dashed away to consult others on their silly process and, presumably, to deal with anomalies they were not trained to handle. My check-in was straightforward, but agonizingly slow. First, present photo ID, then wait for a lookup on the computer, then wait for a page to be printed on the shared printer behind the clerk, then wait for the page to be printed again because it didn’t print correctly the first time, then read it and sign it to confirm that I was who I said I was, then wait for the clerk to sign it herself and date it, then get the package of bumpf, and then, go to another frazzled clerk at the end of the table who was the only one holding the envelope of parking vouchers, but who was also processing people as above. And then, go to the next table where yet another person fished out a pre-printed name tag from a tangled pile. Wait–there’s more! Further on was a table holding the annual report and brochure. I had to stop and verify that these weren’t in my package before I picked them up. Yikes!
I was lucky to arrive with only about two dozen people ahead of me in line. I looked back later as I munched on the canapes to see about 200 people lined up. Many of these poor souls didn’t make it into the main meeting room, but were funnelled into a separate space to watch it remotely. What’s more, they missed the canapes.
Things got worse. The reason for the meeting was to approve a package of changes to the organization’s bylaws, the first a bundle relating to governance, particularly board membership, and the second a broadening of the agency’s purview. The board foolishly thought they could get these passed within 45 minutes, leaving time for a buffet dinner and everyone heading home by 7:30. Both packages of changes had clearly been thrashed through by the board and worded as carefully as they knew how, to achieve noble goals. But, oh my, very little thought had been given to clearly communicating the why, what and how of these things to a diverse audience of cranky, mostly articulate stakeholders, many of them individual entrepreneurs whose default attitude to change is wariness.
The dismay spreading slowly over the faces of board members morphed to quiet panic as the first skirmish (shall we change the wording of “both genders” to “all genders” to reflect diversity?) led to several more line-level attempts at amending their precious package.
I finally left for dinner just after 7:30, before the first package had even reached a vote. Walking back through the hotel to get my car about 9:15, I stopped someone to ask when the debacle had ended. Just now, he moaned, saying everything had passed, but implying that he had thus been brutally disenfranchised by the evil board.
What we have here is a failure to communicate. Also a failure to plan, and a misunderstanding of one’s user group. Starting with the check-in process, the whole thing could have been managed and staffed with more intelligence. And it wasn’t for lack of bodies, apparently — a contingent of student volunteers were thanked for their help at one point, but I saw most of them standing around while the few registration clerks dealt with the onslaught. Assigning two or three students as runners would have helped.
The bumpf package should have included everything — conferences have been refining this process for years, complete with name tags. Even if you have to print them on the spot, you can make it an assembly-line that divides the labour and gives the victim/registrant a feeling of moving along in the process.
Presentation of the bylaw changes relied on a quick verbal recap, complete with PPT slides that did not match the speaker’s statements — I think the AV guy was given a different script. These were complex changes, but sensible ones, but far too much was assumed about the audience’s knowledge of board mechanics. Did the board think people had actually read the documents in advance? And did they in their wildest dreams think most people would accept 37 pages of changes in one lump with minimal explanation? The paperwork was designed to meet the needs of lawyers and the government, but visual and logical/mathematical learners (both presumably well-represented among web workers), were ignored.
In the end, the board got what they sought, but I hope the pain of the journey prompts careful reflection before the next attempt.