You Enjoying Training, Boy-O?

The hardest days to sneak in a daily blog are no doubt the days when you are stuck in training. Typically, these columns get written in small periods of time between various tasks, assuming I’m feeling inspired and don’t have to get up to refill my water bottle or use the restroom. (Note: I fill the water bottle with water, not inspiration. That’s what the inspiration bottle is for.) They are written at the comfort of my own office, at my own desk, on my own keyboard. But when someone decrees that you need to spend the day away from home in some barren room filled with computers that have OVERLY NOISY keyboards, it’s tough to ensure that the funny will be brought.

I’ve said it before – I hate training. It has a similar effectiveness rating that group projects did back in college. It’s the assemblage of many people with better things to do, and the amount of time you sacrifice to attend one of these get-togethers does not match the amount of new, important, useful, information you leave gleaning from the barrage of PowerPoint slides and in-class exercises. Consider your favorite NFL team’s final pre-season game. A lot of money is spent to get that thing played, but ultimately, there’s only a decent catch and a missed blocking assignment somewhere idly in the 3rd quarter that will ultimately help the head coach finalize his roster.

This is why web-based training rules. With online courses, someone had to compact everything they want to impart to a session that should take a set amount of time. There’s no room for fluff. There’s no time for fluff. Unless it’s that marshmallowy substance that used to come in a white plastic jar and was used for sandwiches. If that’s the case, there’s plenty of room and time.

Oh, by the way, it’s lunchtime. Can’t you tell?

But today’s training is particularly eerie, for two reasons. First, out of the 24 workstations here in this room, only 3 are currently being occupied. That’s right, only three. There are two instructors for this course. Either we have an enrollment problem, or this lesson is a tad overstaffed. (Not unlike the Redskins coaching staff.) And the second reason for this particularly eerie training session?

The one instructor is James Cromwell.

What do you mean you don’t know who James Cromwell is? He’s a tall Irish guy that’s been in tons of movies. (No, James Cromwell is not Chris Condon – but I like your moxie, wise guy.) He was the farmer in Babe, the President in Sum of All Fears, the crazy scientist in I, Robot, and the warden in The Green Mile. His sunken face, grandfatherly demeanor, and imposing stature make him an excellent casting choice for your public official, elder statesman, or father to a revenge-seeking-nerd.

But how has he fallen so far, so quickly? Training instructor doesn’t match up to his past roles, now does it?

Easy. I blame Spider-man 3.

For those fortunate enough to miss it, Spider-man 3 was terrible. I blame the story and the directing, mainly. Sorry, I just didn’t get the whole midsection with Emo Peter Parker, and Clara could have provided more convincing dialogue (she also has achieved Level 2 web-slinging capabilities, but who’s counting.)

In SP3, James Cromwell played Police Captain Stacy, father of Gwen Stacy and all-around incompetent officer of the law. There’s a scene where Captain Stacy pulls Peter and his Aunt Mae into his office, and explains that there have been some recent developments in the case of his murdered father. Turns out that it wasn’t the blond-headed freak guy who killed Uncle Ben (and his delicious rice) – it was the guy who ultimately becomes Sandman. What the? I’m mean, sure I get the screenwriters needing a reason to make sure Peter Parker wants revenge on one of the movie’s main villains, but what? A new development has emerged how many years after the death of a guy near his car? This wasn’t exactly a national news-type murder. What cops were still working this case? Shame on you, James Cromwell. Shame on you for not objecting to a convenient loophole correction.

Don’t even get me started on the Osbornes’ butler.

Hey James, I think I’ve taken this training before, and before it was WAY better. Who was the instructor, you may ask? I don’t know if you’ve ever met him.

His name is Rollo Tomasi.