Lowest Common Denominator

I used to work as a supervisor in a call center, which was a fast-paced, high volume environment. I was going to college, so I usually took the night shift, which started around 1:00 and ended around 9:30. My colleague had just left the company and a new guy was hired from within our department--he had been with the company for about a year, was very, very quiet, but in general a good worker. The job he had was data entry and answering calls according to a script.

Here's what I discovered very shortly: This guy was very, very dumb.

The Peter Principle states that "...people tend to be promoted to the level of their incompetence." Well, that's what we're talking about, here. Scary dumb.

So, we were all trying to make the best of this mistake, and my manager was getting really antsy about being exposed for having made a very hasty, very bad decision. She encouraged me to befriend "Dave" and help show him how to do the job, etc. One of the major obstacles was that Dave didn't want to say anything to anybody. Ever. It was shocking how many questions can be answered with non-verbal communication, but Dave had this down pat. And if the question was too complex, he would just smile, shake his head, look down, and laugh a little. But no answer.

After about a month, it kind of became a challenge to get through to him.

I was supposed to be teaching him about calculating statistics, productivity records, entering them into a computer, documenting problems, talking to employees, and other supervisor-like stuff, but he would just look at me with a blank stare through cow-like eyes. I did check to see if he had opposable thumbs...

I decided to just focus on getting something we could talk about. Anything that would interest him. Maybe I could use it as an analogy to help him learn, something.

Was he into sports? Unh Unh (no)
Do you like cars? (no)
What did you study in (high) school? (blank stare)
Do you like to travel? (no)
Do you have any brothers or sisters? (no)
Girlfriend? (no)--what a shocker, Cyrano.

He was about 21 years old, and had this weird habit of interpreting things as an insult, or at least always considering the possibility that someone was making fun of him. I'm sure it had happened to him a lot growing up. I went to his house one time to give him a ride to work. He lived with his mother, and the apartment was as neat as a pin. She also had every CD ever made by Barry White. I don't mean a copy of each CD, I mean EVERY CD! Thousands! He had a funny last name: Flowers. I asked him if anyone had ever made fun of his last name, and it seemed to make him angry that I had suggested that. He answered a very defensive-sounding "unh unh."

One day, I was trying to show him statistics, and was about to give up. I looked out the window and said "Look at that cloud--it looks like a hamburger."

Dave brightened up and leaned toward the window "It sure does! I can even see tomatoes on it. And there's another one that looks like a tree right next to it."

In his defense: I started it.

But we talked about what the clouds looked like for about 20 minutes. Of course, I was self-conscious, but encouraged that at least we were having the longest conversation that we had ever had. And he seemed so enthusastic about it.

I turned around to see that one of my more cynical employees was standing there snickering at our conversation, and my faced reddened deeply while I answered her question. I'm sure it just further reinforced her image of supervisors of screwing around all day instead of working.

Sadly, Dave and I never hit it off. I even felt bad when he got demoted back to data entry. Sometimes it makes me laugh to think of the lengths it took to find some common ground, even for a fleeting few minutes.