The gold painted letters on the frosted-glass door read, “A. Trainer, Private Eye,” and told her she was in the right place.

She knocked.

“It’s open,” a whiskey-soaked voice called.

She entered and stared at the lanky figure in the ill-fitting suit with his feet propped on the desk.

“What can I do for you, doll face?”

“I need you to find something for me… something important,” she said hesitantly.

“Did your old man scram with the family jewels?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she said, clutching her purse closer. “More importantly, I need you to find me some good training.”

“Is that all? That’s as easy as getting a kitten out of a tree, doll face. Sit down. Lend an ear! I’ll give you the straight dope on what to look for. “

He launched into an animated lecture, sprinkled with colorful language, on what makes a good training program. Fragments lodged in her mind.

  • “Engaged students who know what to expect and what is expected of them…”
  • “Supervisors or managers trained earlier, or at the same time…”
  • “Up-to-date, relevant material that’s easy to access…”

He paused for a breath.

“Is that all?” she asked.

“Far from it, toots.” He launched into another list of points that make up a good training program.

  • “Clearly defined objectives…”
  • “An instructor who’s prepared, engaging, and can answer questions and get the information you need…”
  • “Participants are asked what training they need or want to improve skills…”
  • “Post-course follow-up and evaluation…”

“And finally, sweetheart, you’ve got to have the bigwigs in on this. You’ve got to have the support of the managers and bosses to make it fly.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Trainer. I’m sure I can find the right training now,” she said.

“Think nothing of it, doll face.”

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