Team Building, My A**

TEAM BUILDING, MY A**

Well, this is bullshit.

Frances looked around at the group. They were at a “retreat” for managers, somewhere up in cottage country — Where no one could hear me scream because I hate company team building activities.

Frances did not understand why the bosses thought taking the whole team away for a few days in the wilderness would make them get along better. And, for that matter, why were they considered a “team?” The people with her at this overpriced camp for grownups were managers of six completely different departments — IT, HR, Sales, Innovation, Technology, and Finance. As far as Frances was concerned, they had very little in common besides the fact that they worked at the same company. Veronica Shilling, VP of HR, was along as camp counsellor making sure that all the kids played nice. And, she had a whistle. A whistle! They were grownups, for God’s sake. Why the hell did she need a whistle?

God! I hate this! How much did they have to pay the consultant who convinced the powers-that-be that Camp Play-Together-Nice was the best way to improve interdepartmental cooperation? Frances shook her head. I could have used that money in my budget for better tech, she lamented.

Veronica stood in front of the group.  

“Now that we’re all checked in, and in our ‘fun clothes’”— she made air quotes around fun clothes, “We’re going to get started right away.” Her smile beamed at the group. Frances did not beam back.

“We’re going to start with a scavenger hunt.” Veronica happily clapped her hands. Frances mentally rolled her eyes. Who clapped their hands like a happy toddler?  

“I’ve randomly separated you into two teams of three. You have one hour to find and photograph the sixteen items on the list.” She handed each person a sheet with sixteen pictures on it, and a map of the grounds.  

Frances was on the team with Sean from HR and Jeremy from Sales.

“Hey,” said Frances, looking at Sean. “I don’t suppose that Veronica gave you any hints, did she?”

“I wish!” said Sean.

Veronica continued, “All the items are found on the trails that surround the main building. Winner gets a bottle of wine at dinner.” Smiles all around. “Loser gets a bottle of wine at dinner. Remember, work together — three brains are better than one! Go!”

Frances and her group huddled together for a minute, examining the list.

“I saw three of those things on the way in,” said Frances.

“Really?” said Jeremy. “I don’t remember seeing anything on the list.”

“Well,” said Frances. “I was a cop before I went back to school. We’re trained to see things — cop eyes,” she said widening her eyes dramatically at them.

Both men looked surprised at her revelation. Frances didn’t elaborate.

“Okay, then,” said Sean after an awkward silence. “Let’s go get pics of the first three.”

As it turned out, Frances also remembered where she’d seen three other items on the list. Sean was good a rationalizing where things should be — like they needed to find a lock, and Sean recognized that it was attached to what looked like a bridge handrail, which meant water. They found the water, then found the bridge, then found the lock. Bingo.

Jeremy informed his partners that he participated in orienteering competitions on the weekend, so he was able to help them navigate the terrain, and find the easiest route through the property. Following his directions, they avoided backtracking and climbing the same hill six times. Frances was impressed with the skills her partners had. And, seriously, she had no idea that competitive orienteering was a thing. Who knew?

At the one hour mark, an air horn sounded and the teams returned to the lodge. Frances was happily surprised that they had been able to find twelve of the sixteen items, and the other team had found only nine. For the first time since arriving, Frances smiled. The three of them made a good team. 

At lunch, Veronica had everyone sit beside the people who weren’t on their scavenger hunt team. Frances had the pleasure of sitting between Sierra from Innovation and Other Francis (as she referred to him) from Technology. She didn’t really know Other Francis, other than the fact that she sometimes got his e-mails, and he sometimes got hers. It never ceased to amaze Frances that there were so many mix-ups. They were in different departments. She was a woman, and spelled her name differently than Francis, who was a man. And, add to that, the fact that their lasts names were at different ends of the alphabet. She was Frances Bellevue, and he was Francis Wyler. They couldn’t have been more different. Delta from Finance sat almost across from Frances. Of course they all started making small talk about work. Veronica blew her whistle — not loud, just a little tweet.

“Ladies and Gentlemen — no shop talk until we get back to the shop. So, instead, let’s talk about ourselves.”

Frances cringed inwardly. The only thing she hated more than team building, was talking about herself to complete strangers. If she’d wanted her co-workers to know more about her, she would have told them already. There was a reason she worked in IT — very little human interaction. She preferred to work on her own, so IT was her happy place. And as an added bonus, she hadn’t had to Taser anyone in the office as part of her job, so there was that.

Other Francis started the conversation. Of course he did.

“Well, I was a bit of a child prodigy. I was building my own computers by the time I was seven. My parents let me run with it. And because I was so proficient with hardware and software, I didn’t have the childhood other children had. Instead of playing sports, I just won prizes for my tech … ”

Frances tuned him out. If there was one thing she hated … wait that wasn’t right — if there was another thing she hated, it was humble brags.  

Frances got up and excused herself, and went to the washroom.

When she returned to the table, Veronica looked at her and smiled. “Your turn, Frances!”

Crap!

She looked around the table.  

“What do you want to know? I’m forty-two, in a committed relationship with my dog, Baskerville, but I am seeing other dogs when I volunteer at the SPCA as a dog walker. I love computers, and now Orienteering. Thanks Jeremy.” She smiled at Jeremy. “And I used to be a cop, so watch out when we’re on the paintball course.” She smiled again, and shut her mouth.

“I considered a career in law enforcement,” said Other Francis. “But I figured it would be a waste of my talent. I was —“

“Why’d you quit the police?” interrupted Delta.

God! I didn’t know that there was going to be a question-and-answer period. Kill. Me. Now!

Instead, she answered. “I wasn’t happy. I realized that I liked computers more than I liked people.” Frances wasn’t completely honest in her answer, but there was no way that she was going to overshare with these people. It was just easier to say computers trumped people, and leave it at that. No need to freak everyone out talking about gang shootings and dead bodies.

Before anyone had a chance to ask any more questions, Veronica intervened.

“Okay, so now that we've finished lunch, let’s get to another activity. We’re going to —“ she dragged it out, “— play Frisbee Golf! Nine holes!” Happily, she clapped her hands again. “The team with the lowest combined score wins wine at dinner. The losers also get wine at dinner. The teams are …”

Frances was on a team with Other Francis and Delta. Frances hated Frisbee. Unless you had a dog, and that dog would bring the Frisbee back when you threw it, instead of eating it like Baskerville did, she could not understand the allure.

Frances was not a very proficient player, but compared to Other Francis, she was a pro. The whole point of the game was to land your Frisbee in the “hole” (a wire bucket underneath the flag) in the fewest throws. Luckily for their team, Delta had some experience in the sport — she’d played on the varsity team in university — and she kept their score from being in the stratosphere of the absurd. But it was Other Francis that surprised Frances. And not in a good way. Apparently all that time building computers, creating apps, and winning awards did nothing for his hand-eye coordination. He just couldn’t figure out when to let the disk go. He’d wind up, have good form, but not let the Frisbee go until his arm was almost straight out, sending it flying behind him. The entire course, was par thirty-three. Other Francis’s score was fifty-six. Frances and Delta both tried to help him with his delivery, but he, condescendingly informed them both that he knew what he was doing. Which, Frances suggested, he did not. At that point, he blamed the disk. Frances offered to switch disks with him. He ignored her.  

It was cocktail hour when they finally finished their abysmal round of Frisbee Golf. They did not win — not even close. Although not actually saying it out loud, Other Francis insinuated that the reason for their loss lay at the feet of his teammates — women and sports, was he right?

Cool, thought Frances. Not only is he jerk, he’s also a misogynist.

She really hoped that they wouldn’t be on the same team for any of the other activities. He was insufferable. She added insufferable people to the list of things she hated.

After cocktails it was dinner time. All of her table mates abided by Veronica’s rules of no shop talk, instead talking about the day’s activities. Truth be told, Frances would have preferred shop talk. That way she wouldn’t have had to listen to the nonsense that was flowing from Other Francis’s mouth. Apparently there was nothing he couldn’t do. What he neglected to mention was the fact that he couldn’t do it well. She and Delta exchanged eye rolls.  

That evening’s activity was the escape room. Frances hated escape rooms — on principle alone. They were stupid. Who voluntarily had themselves locked in a room? Apparently no one who had ever been trapped in a room with a guy high on bath salts who wanted to eat your face. The entire team had to work together to get out before the clock ran out at sixty minutes. Veronica explained that all the information they needed was in the room itself. All they had to do was decipher a number of clues and puzzles that would allow them to gain their freedom. Easy-peezy, mac and cheesy!

It was the longest hour of Frances’s life, and she had been in a shoot-out with MS-13. Other Francis insisted on leading the group. The problem was that Other Francis didn’t have a clue. And, anytime anyone made a suggestion, he poo-pooed it, and wasted time explaining why his approach to solving the clues would work.  

You don’t know shit, thought Frances. If you spent half as much time thinking about the problem at hand, instead of puffing yourself up like a peacock, then maybe we’d get the hell out of here. She held her tongue.  

About twenty minutes in, there were two groups working toward escape — Team Other Francis and Team Everyone Else. Despite Other Francis’s best efforts to sabotage the game, the group made good their escape with two minutes to spare.

At “last call,” Veronica explained that the next day would be CI: Crime Investigation in the morning, and paintball in the afternoon. Frances thought about the next day’s itinerary, and a slight smile crossed her lips. She had taken a six week FBI Forensics course at Quantico, and had been a certified SOCO — Scene of Crime Officer. And she had earned her marksman designation before she left the force. She still practiced her shooting, but not competitively. She figured tomorrow should be an okay day — as long as she wasn’t on Other Francis’s team.

The morning was clear and warm — the perfect day for paintball. But first, forensics. Frances was feeling a bit conflicted. At breakfast she approached Veronica.

“I’m not sure that I should be participating in these activities,” she said. “I’ve got a bit of an advantage from my last job.”

Veronica raised one of her eyebrows.  

“Are you saying that you’re better than the group?”

Frances rolled her eyes. “No, Veronica, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that perhaps I have an unfair advantage, what with my training and all.”

“So, how about, instead of thinking that you're better — “

“I did not say that I was better,” interjected Frances.

“— you take this opportunity to share your knowledge with the group.”

Frances thought for a moment, and nodded her head.  “I can do that. Good idea!”  

The whole concept behind the CI — Crime Investigation game was for the teams to solve the crime and figure out who did it — kinda like Clue, but without Colonel Mustard. Once you identified a clue, you swapped it for a forensics report, which should help you identify the perp.  

Frances was on a team with Sierra and Other Francis. She cringed at the thought of trying to explain anything to Other Francis. Frances was sure that Veronica had put she and Other Francis on the same team to prove a point. Both teams had an hour to figure out who did it. Within five minutes, Frances found herself wishing that Other Francis was the corpse in the game.  

She pointed out evidence that they should consider.

“What makes you the expert?” challenged Other Francis.

Frances just looked at him.

“Were you not paying attention at lunch yesterday when I mentioned that I was a cop?”

“So? That doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“What I didn’t mention was that I was a certified Scene of Crime Officer.”

“That doesn’t mean that you know everything.

“Come on!” said Sierra, her annoyance showing. “We’ve only got an hour, and you’re wasting it.” She looked pointedly at Other Francis.

Frances called on the Gods of Calm, and addressed Other Francis. “Fine. How do you want to do this?” she asked. Other Francis said nothing, just scowled at her, arms crossed.

“Fine,” said Frances. “How ‘bout when you find something, you tell me what you think it is, and I either agree or disagree with your conclusions?”

Before Other Francis could respond, Sierra spoke up.

“Screw that! IT Frances, I want you to lead this activity.”

Other Francis started to speak up. “I don’t think—“

Sierra whirled on him, “I don’t care what you think. IT Frances has the knowledge and the experience to lead us in this activity. I want her in charge.”

Despite the fact that Other Francis pouted and refused to participate, the women got through the “crime scene” quickly. Frances explained which evidence was important, and which evidence could be considered a red herring. With only the two of them, they beat the other team by about seven minutes.  

At lunch Other Francis bragged about how integral his knowledge of crime scenes led to his team’s victory. Sierra leaned over and whispered in Frances’s ear.

“If he doesn’t shut the hell up, he’s going to be a crime scene.”

They both chuckled while watching Other Francis take credit for the win.

After lunch was the last event before heading home — paint ball. Frances, Delta, and Sierra were an all female team. Sean, Jeremy, and Other Francis were the other team.

Frances was a little sad. She liked Sean and Jeremy. She didn’t relish going up against them — they were nice. Other Francis, though …

The game was essentially capture the flag, but with weapons. Each team had a flag to protect while simultaneously trying to capture the other team's flag. Sierra, Delta, and Frances were yellow. Sean, Jeremy, and Other Francis were blue. One hit, and you were eliminated.  

Once the horn sounded, the teams proceeded onto the playing field. The yellow team spread out, moving stealthily forward. They had discussed their strategy — an inverted “V” manoeuvre towards the other team’s headquarters. Frances was forward lead, staying under cover as much as possible, Sierra and Delta would protect the rear. When Other Francis appeared in front of her, crashing his way through the underbrush, Frances was not as surprised as she might have been — she’d heard him big-footing for a couple of minutes before he appeared. Frances stepped out from behind an abandoned building.

“Hey, Technology!” she called.

He twisted towards her.

Blap, blap, blap, blap, blap — left knee, right knee, belly, heart, heart.

Frances looked at him, a slight smile on her face.

“You, Sir, are dead.”

As she turned to leave, he shot a paintball towards her back. Luckily he was as good at paintball as he was at Frisbee, and he missed her completely.

“Mother fucker!”

She unleashed a volley of paint at him. The entire front of his uniform was a bright yellow. She pulled out her phone, and took a quick shot of him.

“Don’t make me shoot you again,” she warned, as she stalked away.

She met up with her team. Sierra took out Sean, but was hit by Jeremy. Delta and Frances used a successful pincer move on Sean, leaving the blue flag free for the taking.

They were heading back to the lodge, blue flag in hand, when they heard someone yelling.

“Hey, bitches!”

The women looked at each other, and turned around.

Blap, blap, blap, blap, blap.  

Other Francis was shooting at them! Still missing them, but shooting nonetheless.

“Hey, Dickhead! You’re dead! I shot you twice!” Frances yelled, ducking for cover.

“Arrrggghh!” he yelled, running towards them, gun levelled. Frances stepped aside, stuck out her foot, and tripped Other Francis, sending him face-first into the mud.

She looked down at him. That was the reason she hated team building games. People were assholes.