At this point, I have been at a fair number of universities
over the course of my career. Small ones, large ones, rural ones, urban ones.
If there is one thing that unites them all, it is bureaucracy. I have come
across a variety of types of bureaucracy in my travels.
Slow bureaucracies: oh, yes, I have that piece of paper you
submitted. I’ll get right to it, as soon as I reach level 100 on Bejeweled. Twice.
Lying bureaucracies: You forgot to submit that form. Oh, you
have photographic evidence of you handing it to me with a dated newspaper in
your hand? Oh, looky there. I just found it. I must have mistaken you for
someone else.
Misguided bureaucracies: Let’s be honest, I have no idea
what you do or what the mission of this university even is, so I’m going to
make you do a bunch of random things because I think they seem reasonable given
my made up definition of your job.
Inefficient bureaucracies: I know all you want is a ream of
paper, but you need to see Susan in accounting to get an account number, then
take that account number to Mike up in supplies, he’ll fill out a form so you
can run to the bookstore to buy the paper. Hand the form to Bob at the departmental
orders counter and he’ll phone Susan to get the account number.
Honestly, I thought I’d seen it all. I’d actually become a
little jaded about university bureaucracies. Surely I had seen all the university
bureaucracy diversity this world had to offer. However, with my move to a new
university, I have suddenly seen something I’d never seen before.
The Godzilla of Bureaucracies.
What is the Godzilla of
Bureaucracies? I’m still figuring out what makes this beast so different. Clearly,
it’s larger. Larger than anything I’ve seen before. It’s a place where you can
imagine someone read this:
Well, the bee-watcher-watcher watched the bee-watcher.
He didn't watch well so another Hawtch-Hawtcher had to come in as a
watch-watcher-watcher! And now all the Hawtchers who live in Hawtch-Hawtch are
watching on watch watcher watchering watch, watch watching the watcher who's
watching that bee – Dr. Seuss Did I ever
tell you how lucky you are?
And thought, “That’s a great idea!”
and went about designing exactly that bureaucracy.
It also seems to have trouble
communicating to the wee mortals scurrying around its toes. Every bureaucracy
has a unique way of doing things, but this one has created its own
language to go along with it. To an uneducated outsider it seems to be roaring incoherently, but
the bureaucracy thinks it makes perfect sense. Let the hilarity ensue.
Like Godzilla, the bureaucracy is
also slightly scary. They like to use phrases like “disciplinary action” and “can
result in termination”. A lot. Some of it is obvious (if I buy myself a diamond
ring on my pcard I will have some serious explaining to do…to my lawyer).
Others less so: what does it mean that I could be disciplined if I behave on
social media in a manner that negatively reflects on the university? Are we
talking illegal activities? Public raging jackass? Posting selfies of myself in
bad fashion choices? Bad mouthing the university in public? My inquiring mind wants to know but is slightly worried about the answer.
One big difference between Godzilla
and my bureaucracy however is heartening: People here seem to have figured out
how to live peacefully with this incoherent behemoth, living bemused but
productive lives as it lumbers around. As with most bureaucracies, I just need
to figure out its patterns, how to stay out of its way, and what parts of the
bureaucracy are really rigid rules as opposed to something akin to the Pirate
Code.
After all, I love everything else
about my new university. It’s just that figuring out how to get things done is
driving me a little mad. Thus, General Disarray’s advice to me last night after
I raved incoherently at him about the incoherent rules in the training video on employment I had just watched: “Maybe you should
start blogging again. It’s cheaper than therapy.”
I feel better already.