<p>Your columnist hasn’t recently conducted an appraisal of a colleague. Having not handled teams in years, he can barely understand what the fuss is all about. In his previous employment, at a global investment bank, where he served as VP and Head of M&A, he reported directly to the Chairman. The annual appraisal took five minutes, which is about the time it takes to be done with a cup of coffee. The only real question asked was what the targets should be in the coming year. There was never any opportunity for discussion, since the Chairman’s suggestions were not so much suggestions, as binding instructions delivered in a friendly tone. When asked what additional support he would like, your columnist meekly enquired whether he might be allowed to stay at The George V in Paris, especially as clients tended to pay for travel. This was not, strictly speaking, a development goal, but it was the only growth aspiration he could think of at the time. </p><p>How far the world has travelled since then. Performance appraisal has now become one of the great theatrical productions of corporate life. It has actors and scripts. It also has HR, which is what theatre would have looked like if Shakespeare had to align Hamlet’s behaviour with organisational competencies. The appraisal begins months before it actually begins. Employees are asked to fill out a self-assessment. This is a delicate literary exercise in which one must praise oneself without appearing boastful. Managers, meanwhile, prepare their own comments. They must say something positive and something developmental, ideally without committing the company to giving money or promotion. The approved phrases are well known. “Needs to be more strategic” means the employee is doing too much actual work. Then comes calibration. This is the secret conclave at which managers gather to ensure fairness and the preservation of the salary budget. The outcome is usually that too many people cannot be rated highly. </p><p>The rating itself is a masterpiece of ambiguity. Companies no longer say “good” or “bad”, which would be cruel but clear. Instead, they use terms such as “meets expectations”, “exceeds expectations”. These are then translated into increments so small that they require a tax adviser to detect. The employee is told that compensation is only one part of the reward philosophy. This is true in the same way that food is only one part of lunch. The appraisal meeting is where the full drama unfolds. The manager begins warmly. “This has been a very good year.” The employee relaxes, foolishly. The manager then says, “There are just a few areas of development.” At this point, a chill enters the room. The employee is told to communicate better and collaborate more. In other words, to become a better person. Employees, for their part, arrive with evidence. They carry numbers, emails and client compliments. They remind the manager of the midnight calls, the weekend decks and the crisis solved in April. The manager nods sympathetically and says, “I fully recognise all that.” This means the rating is unchanged. </p><p>There is also the discussion on career aspirations. The employee says he would like to take on a larger role. The manager says this is encouraging. The employee asks what he must do to get there. The manager says he must demonstrate readiness. The employee asks how readiness will be measured. The manager says through demonstrated behaviour. At this point, both understand that the conversation has entered a circular economy. The funniest part is the insistence that the process is objective. It is not. It is partly numbers, partly memory and partly whether one made a terrible mistake in the last three weeks. Your columnist may not understand the modern appraisal, but he admires its complexity. What once took five minutes and a cup of coffee now requires forms, ratings and at least three follow-up conversations. Progress is a wonderful thing. </p><p>As for The George V, the request was declined. </p>
<p>Your columnist hasn’t recently conducted an appraisal of a colleague. Having not handled teams in years, he can barely understand what the fuss is all about. In his previous employment, at a global investment bank, where he served as VP and Head of M&A, he reported directly to the Chairman. The annual appraisal took five minutes, which is about the time it takes to be done with a cup of coffee. The only real question asked was what the targets should be in the coming year. There was never any opportunity for discussion, since the Chairman’s suggestions were not so much suggestions, as binding instructions delivered in a friendly tone. When asked what additional support he would like, your columnist meekly enquired whether he might be allowed to stay at The George V in Paris, especially as clients tended to pay for travel. This was not, strictly speaking, a development goal, but it was the only growth aspiration he could think of at the time. </p><p>How far the world has travelled since then. Performance appraisal has now become one of the great theatrical productions of corporate life. It has actors and scripts. It also has HR, which is what theatre would have looked like if Shakespeare had to align Hamlet’s behaviour with organisational competencies. The appraisal begins months before it actually begins. Employees are asked to fill out a self-assessment. This is a delicate literary exercise in which one must praise oneself without appearing boastful. Managers, meanwhile, prepare their own comments. They must say something positive and something developmental, ideally without committing the company to giving money or promotion. The approved phrases are well known. “Needs to be more strategic” means the employee is doing too much actual work. Then comes calibration. This is the secret conclave at which managers gather to ensure fairness and the preservation of the salary budget. The outcome is usually that too many people cannot be rated highly. </p><p>The rating itself is a masterpiece of ambiguity. Companies no longer say “good” or “bad”, which would be cruel but clear. Instead, they use terms such as “meets expectations”, “exceeds expectations”. These are then translated into increments so small that they require a tax adviser to detect. The employee is told that compensation is only one part of the reward philosophy. This is true in the same way that food is only one part of lunch. The appraisal meeting is where the full drama unfolds. The manager begins warmly. “This has been a very good year.” The employee relaxes, foolishly. The manager then says, “There are just a few areas of development.” At this point, a chill enters the room. The employee is told to communicate better and collaborate more. In other words, to become a better person. Employees, for their part, arrive with evidence. They carry numbers, emails and client compliments. They remind the manager of the midnight calls, the weekend decks and the crisis solved in April. The manager nods sympathetically and says, “I fully recognise all that.” This means the rating is unchanged. </p><p>There is also the discussion on career aspirations. The employee says he would like to take on a larger role. The manager says this is encouraging. The employee asks what he must do to get there. The manager says he must demonstrate readiness. The employee asks how readiness will be measured. The manager says through demonstrated behaviour. At this point, both understand that the conversation has entered a circular economy. The funniest part is the insistence that the process is objective. It is not. It is partly numbers, partly memory and partly whether one made a terrible mistake in the last three weeks. Your columnist may not understand the modern appraisal, but he admires its complexity. What once took five minutes and a cup of coffee now requires forms, ratings and at least three follow-up conversations. Progress is a wonderful thing. </p><p>As for The George V, the request was declined. </p>
