Committed to Committees

Every university administrator will have something to do with committees at some point in their careers. Most universities are ostensibly governed by committee and they are the bodies charged with big decisions. So in theory, it's a committee that decides on Important Stuff.

The role of the administrator is to 'service' the committee. Now I'm a grown woman but I can't help a brief titter at this point. Maybe if I was actually 'servicing' the committee in a nudge-nudge kind of way people would actually read the minutes?!




My my! What a BIG agenda!


Anyway the theory of governance by committee is a bit like democracy. Lovely idea in theory and when it works, it's beautiful to behold. Honestly, seeing a committee properly scrutinise an external examiner's report makes my heart get all big and full, like a water balloon.

But when a committee goes bad (which incidentally sounds like the title of the lamest horror film ever) it's like a car crash in slow motion. Rambling digressions, non-sequitors and misunderstandings. And all of it supposed to be minuted.

Fortunately the University of Cockleton has devised an ingenious way around the inconvenience of committees: the working party. This is a selected group that examines a particular issue and reports back to a committee. The working party will make 'recommendations' to the committee but if the working party is chaired by the Dean of Really Important Stuff and the committee is chaired by Professor Bluster...well, the working party's recommendations become policy. Working parties are not obliged to publish their minutes as commitees are, or to have student representation so you have to ask who exactly scrutinises these groups and holds them to account?

Despite the fact that they're long and boring committees are the proper forum for decision-making in a university. After all, Important Stuff (eg tax) is nearly always a little bit dull. Committees can work if they are chaired properly and given a properly defined remit. That way, there's no need for administrators to have to practice the dark art of Creative Minute Writing.



The empty chair is in case Jesus comes again



Types of Administrator # 1: The Useless PA

The role of PA is much underrated. In fact, you often hear the job title prefaced with the word 'just,' as in 'she's just a PA.' This does a great disservice to the entire profession, which essentially keeps the University of Cockleton going. It's only due to them that academics not only turn up to meetings but actually have a clue as to what they're about.

You only realise how invaluable PAs are when you've experienced the Useless PA. The Useless PA is in no way personal and is damned if she's going to assist anyone. Oh sure, she wrote that she has 'IT skills' on her CV but that doesn't extend to anything complicated like Outlook. She's utterly bemused by these people who ring her and email her questions about Professor Bluster's diary: how the hell is she supposed to know what he's doing? And she really wishes they would stop cc-ing her into Prof Bluster's emails. She doesn't need her Inbox getting clogged up with all his shit. Well, at least she imagines it's getting clogged up because she doesn't actually know how to get into it...

If I stack files in front of this thing, will that stop the emails coming through?

Academic Species # 1: Professor Bluster



Every university has at least half a dozen Professor Blusters. This wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that they have a distressing tendency to be given important jobs.

I work fairly closely with Professor Bluster. He is an eminent researcher and is very good at, you know, research and stuff. Very clever man. But someone had the bright idea that he might also be good at being the Director of Quite Important Stuff. He's not. He's shite. He doesn't remember when meetings are. When he does remember, he has no idea what the meeting is about. He needs to take decisions on a daily basis but can't because he doesn't know what's going on.

Professor Bluster is a highly intelligent man. He knows that he's massively incompetent but he doesn't like being told that because he's never failed at anything in his life. So he blusters. He gets red in the face, his jowls wobble and he shouts about how much work he has to do and how he is incredibly important and how we should all shove our Quite Important Stuff up our administrating arses.

Now technically this isn't Professor Bluster's fault. He's just a victim of his own success. He is so good at his research that he has got every honour and plaudit on the planet. The senior management at the University of Cockleton are aware of exactly how much money he brings in research grants. They want to keep him happy so they give him a nice new job title to add to his ever-lengthening email signature. It was just bad luck that the role happened to be more than a job title and actually involved having to make decisions about Quite Important Stuff.

So how does one cope with Professor Bluster on a daily basis? Well it's a bit like dealing with a recalcitrant toddler. You have to spell everything out in big letters. You have to clean up his messes. You have to praise him when he does well. You have to remain calm and firm in the face of his temper tantrums. But most of all, you have to get the Quite Important Stuff done and somehow make him think that he did it all by himself.